"Tell him dinner will be set for seven," said Mrs Fairacre, her severe expression softening at the mention of the professor.
"We may be later than that."
The hint of humanity vanished. "In that case," said the housekeeper brusquely, "he shall have a cold supper instead."
I departed the house at speed, partly at Mrs Fairacre's urging, and partly due to the fact the professor and Roberta were currently en-route to the Snetton residence without me. At that moment a hansom cab hove into view, and I came to a rapid decision. While the professor and Roberta negotiated the route by public omnibus, moving slowly through the late afternoon traffic, I myself would take the underground train! In this way I would arrive at the same time, if not sooner, and I would be on hand with the newly-retrieved weapon before they commenced the investigation into Lady Snetton's murder.
Fortunately, I had funds enough for the journey, and as I gave the driver my destination and settled back in my seat, I decided this was the way to travel.
– — Ω — –
I bought a ticket at Kensington Station and took the underground to Westminster. During my journey I marvelled at the engineering prowess involved in the construction, which seemed new to me even though I had travelled the same route the previous day. This time, without Roberta in close proximity, I found I had more time to inspect the tunnel, and the design of the carriages, and the method by which the lights were fed from bags of coal gas installed atop the roof.
But before long my thoughts turned to my travelling companions once more. Somewhere above me, I knew, Roberta and the professor would be making their own progress across the city. At least, I hoped they were, for it would be unfortunate indeed if they had decided to wait for me in the high street near the Crown and Feather. Even now, they might be glancing impatiently down the road, expecting me to appear at any moment, and instead I was travelling at speed in the opposite direction.
I resolved to wait for no more than one hour at the Snettons', and if the pair of them did not arrive by then, I would abandon the errand and take the underground home once more. No doubt we would laugh at the unfortunate mix-up, and postpone our investigation until the morrow. After all, the unfortunate Lady Snetton was already deceased, and I did not think she would be unduly troubled if we delayed our investigation into her demise for a day.
Once the train reached its destination, I climbed the stairs and emerged in the street. After looking in vain for a cab, I decided instead to walk the short distance to Lady Snetton's. It was a sunny afternoon, my haversack was not excessively heavy, and, of more significant import, I did not wish to spend any more of my own funds.
The streets in this area of London were much quieter than those surrounding the professor's residence, and many of the carriages were elaborate, highly-polished affairs that might have suited Queen Victoria herself. I felt out of place despite my tailored coat, and the haversack on my back did little to dispel the impression of a wandering salesman. I had every right to be there, but even so, I felt the gaze of the fine ladies and gentlemen in their carriages, who no doubt feared I would lower the tone with my very presence.
As I approached the Snetton residence I saw the windows had been shuttered. Whether it was due to mourning or the rest of the family having departed, I could not tell, but in either case the forlorn sight gave me pause. I could not very well knock upon the door, and so I decided to wait nearby, in the street. I had passed a fashionable tea-room on my way from the station, and I was tempted to return and take a table. However, barely had I taken two steps when I realised my idea was unsound. Who knew where the professor and Roberta might disembark from their omnibus? How could I tell which route they might take to reach my current location? No, I would have to wait within sight of the Snetton house, closed shutters and all. It was the only way I could be sure to encounter Roberta and the professor.
There were trees lining the street, and bedraggled and ill-looking though they might be they still afforded a little shade. I stepped under the nearest and turned towards the house, keen to observe any signs of life. As I stood there I pulled out my pocket watch, discovering it was still twenty minutes until five o'clock. The sun would not set for two or three hours yet, and I relaxed a little as I realised there was plenty of time until nightfall. I tucked my watch away, and that's when I saw a small procession walking towards me. At the head was a large woman carrying a basket at her hip. She wore a frilled cap and well-used workclothes, and I realised she must be a washerwoman. Behind her trailed three small children, each struggling with their own basket, which in the case of the youngest child was almost as big as she was.
I stepped back as the group approached, but the woman stopped under the tree and set her basket down, clearly intending to rest. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, glanced at me, then nodded towards the house. "Terrible thing, that was. Couldn't walk down the road yesterday without there was so many people gawkin'."
Terrible it might have been, but she spoke with some relish, and I guessed the death had been the talk of the area. "A tragedy indeed," I intoned gravely. "Tell me, do you know what happened? I only heard that the poor lady passed in her sleep."
"You a blue devil?"
"I'm sorry?"
"A rozzer." She spat in the
