Chapter 21
The three of us took the alley to the rear of the house, where the side gate to the yard stood open. There was no sign of the scullery-maid, nor anyone else, and the professor was not inclined to wait for permission before approaching the back door. This stood ajar, and the hinges creaked loudly as the professor eased it open further.
"Would it not be wise to advertise our presence?" I whispered.
The professor ignored me and passed into the house. Roberta followed, the haversack slung over one shoulder, and I, after a brief moment of indecision, brought up the rear. The kitchen was chill and cold, and just for a moment I fancied something terrifying and ancient and deadly lay hidden within this mournful house. I shook myself, dispelling the notion, and looked around for the cook.
"There's nobody here!" exclaimed Roberta. "Wherever have the servants got to?"
I was still feeling uncomfortable at our intrusion, and I gestured nervously towards the door. "I think perhaps we should leave."
"Nonsense!" declared the professor. "I invested a great deal of my valuable time in order to visit this place, not to mention the expense."
I felt this was a monstrous exaggeration, since his 'expense' consisted of two sixpenny fares on the omnibus, and that journey had taken no more than thirty minutes.
"And," continued the professor without pause, "now that I am here, I am determined to proceed with the investigation."
"But there's nobody home!" I protested.
"If that is true, it will be all the easier to take a proper look around."
It seemed he was entirely set on trespass, and I knew any further objections on my part would be pointless. So, I held my tongue as the professor opened the scullery door and passed into the house proper. Before following, Roberta unslung her haversack, placing it against the wall. She indicated I should do likewise, and I saw her point. With the bulging satchels over our shoulders we would look like a pair of housebreakers, and were at risk of being shot dead by a startled homeowner.
With the shutters closed, the house was in near-total darkness, and the three of us made our way cautiously along the spacious hall. Our shoes clattered on the polished wooden flooring, and I knew that anyone within the house would not remain unaware of our presence for long. Indeed, as we approached the sitting room a voice called out to us.
"Are you here to strip the belongings from a suffering man, you accursed thieves?" came a stentorian roar. "You think me struck down by sorrow to such an extent that I will not defend my property?"
A tall, white-whiskered officer in a splendid naval uniform appeared at the far end of the hallway, his form illuminated by the scant sunlight gleaming through gaps in the shutters. He carried a bottle in one hand, gripped around the neck, and he bore a pistol in the other. As soon as he spied us, he raised the gun and fired without hesitation, blazing away at us five or six times. The sound was deafening, and strips of wood were torn from the panelling as the wild gunfire rang out. A nearby vase shattered, hurling fragments across the floor, and a portrait was almost cut in two by a stray shot.
Fortunately, the man's aim was as wild as his words, and none of us were hit. I guessed he'd downed most of the bottle to drown his sorrows, which also explained his unsteady, swaying gait. Even as I watched, he tried to set the bottle on a side table, only to miss by a foot or more. Eventually he managed to place it, and then, to my dismay, he began to reload the pistol, muttering all the while.
"Your Lordship," I cried, for I guessed this was the unfortunate Lady Snetton's husband. "We are not thieves, but friends of your late wife!"
He looked up, squinting at me. "You knew my darling Hattie?"
"Indeed, sir. Why, we paid her a visit only yesterday."
At that, Roberta pushed past me and made for the distraught gentleman, taking him by the elbow and relieving him of the pistol before he had a chance to use it. A handful of cartridges fell from his grasp, rattling on the floor, and he was still peering around for them when Roberta took charge. "Come, sir. Come sit in the lounge and unburden yourself upon me, for I am an excellent listener."
He looked at her doubtfully, for Roberta was dressed in her working clothes, not the full-bodied skirt with bodice one would expect a friend of his wife's to be wearing. "I apologise for my attire, Your Lordship," she said quickly, "but I was tending the horses in my stables."
Roberta told this lie without a trace of shame, and Lord Snetton appeared to take her at her word. Together, they retired to the sitting room, while I collected the fallen cartridges and the professor ruefully inspected a hole shot clean through his top hat. "These people are going to be the ruin of me," he muttered.
The professor and I joined Roberta in the sitting room, where she'd thrown open the shutters and was now stoking the meagre fire in the grate. Lord Snetton had taken to the settee, and was sitting ramrod-straight as he smoothed his wayward hair and whiskers. In the daylight it was easy to see the years he'd spent travelling the oceans, for his cheeks were leathery and tanned, and his piercing blue eyes were clear and far-seeing.
"Sir, I must apologise for this intrusion," said the professor, hurrying forward with outstretched hand. "My daughter was a confidant of your wife's, and she insisted we come to pay our respects. I am most dreadfully sorry for the cruel blow fate has dealt your family."
"That's very decent of you, sir," said
