she said to Rob. “They weren’t nowhere near the dining room, you stupid boy! Dinner was all cleared away before we took ’em up. You don’t feed tarts like them.
What are you thinking of?”
“There was the old feller,” Rob said stubbornly.
“What old feller?” Mrs. Oliphant challenged. “ ’Ere you. Gracie, that your name? Well, sit down, girl. Pour yourself a cup o’ tea. Cake’s fresh. Oh, come on!” She snatched the pot and a clean cup and poured it for Gracie impatiently. She pushed it across at her, and one of the plates. “Look like a twopenny rabbit, you do. Put a bit o’ meat on your bones, girl. Next thing they’ll accuse us o’ starvin’ you.” She turned back to Rob. “What other one? What are you talking about?”
He blanched, so that his freckles stood out like blotches on his skin. “I mean the old feller what come wi’ the big box, Mrs.
Oliphant.”
“What old feller?” she said with disbelief. “What are you talking about?”
Gracie stopped with her cup halfway to her lips.
“The man wot came ’ere a bit after midnight wi’ that box o’ books come for Mr. Dunkle, or wot’s ’is name,” Rob answered her.
Mrs. Oliphant’s wispy-fine eyebrows shot up. “You sayin’ as that old man what delivered the books pinched one of our knives and took it with ’im?” she said with disbelief. “Whatever for?”
“I dunno, do I!” Rob said indignantly. “ ’Cos it come from the Palace, I s’pose. You should ’ear some o’ the things I get asked ter nick fer people.”
“You take a pinch o’ dust, my boy, an’ your feet won’t touch the ground!” Mrs. Oliphant said furiously. “I catch you, an’ I swear you’ll eat off the mantelpiece fer a week, an’ glad of it.”
Rob rubbed his behind as if it were already aching. “I said I were asked, I din’t say as I took nothing!” Now he was really offended.
“Was me as told yer the knife were gone. You’re ungrateful, that’s what you are.”
“Don’t you speak to me like that, you cheeky lump!” she said hotly. “You forget yourself, Rob Tompkins. You let Mr. Tyndale catch you talking nonsense an’ he’ll wash your mouth out with soap, he will, lye soap an’ all!”
“Then you tell ’im the old fellow took the knife!” he charged her.
“ ’Ow do I know?” she demanded. “You stop crying an’ drink your tea before I throw it away!”
He snatched the cake before she could remove the plate.
“You better have the last one too,” she said. “Go on! Take it! Another twopenny rabbit if ever I seen one.”
He grinned at her, showing gappy teeth.
“Where’d yer see ’im?” Gracie asked as casually as she could, her mouth dry. At last she was learning something.
“Don’t encourage ’im!” Mrs. Oliphant warned.
Gracie shrugged. “Sorry. ’E’s probably nobody.”
“Yeah ’e is so!” Rob insisted. “Bit taller’n me, ’e were, wi’ scruffy white ’air an’ dirty face. Edwards knows-’e ’elped the fella carry it.
’E were down ’ere while they was unpackin’ the box, before ’e takes it back out again. Cup o’ tea, I s’pose. ’E come past Mr. Tyndale’s pantry an’ out o’ the kitchen through the side door inter the yard. S’pose
’e went back ter the cart ’e come in. But ’e went past the pantry, I swear!” He looked at Gracie, hopeful of support.
“An’ how do you know?” Mrs. Oliphant asked. “What were yer doin’ out o’ yer bed at that time of night? Stealin’ cake, I’ll wager!”
“I come fer a drink o’ water!” Rob said with self-conscious righteousness.
“Down them stairs?” Gracie asked doubtfully.
“ ’E sleeps in the scullery,” Mrs. Oliphant explained.
Rob nodded, smiling. “Nice an’ warm in there.”
Gracie refrained from pointing out that there was also a tap in there-but not cake.
“Stupid,” she said, sipping her tea. “Fancy stealin’ a table knife!
In’t even any good. Why don’t ’e take a kitchen knife, if ’e wanted one?”
“Them table knives is special for meat,” Mrs. Oliphant told her.
“Shave your face with them, yer could. Believe me!”
Gracie finished her tea with difficulty, heart pounding, then thanked Mrs. Oliphant and excused herself as swiftly as she dared.
She was going so hastily she almost ran into Pitt on the stairs.
“What is it?” he asked her with an edge of urgency in his voice.
“Mr. Tyndale said you wanted to see me. Something about sheets.”
“I found ’em in the laundry,” she said breathlessly, no louder than a whisper. “I ’id ’em in the bran bin. They’re ’Er Majesty’s sheets.
They got
“From the cupboard,” he said calmly. “They took all the sheets down to see which ones they could save.”
“But
’em in the cupboard, sir. They bin slept in! They was all creased and rankled up.”
Pitt looked very grave. “Are you certain, Gracie?”
“ ’Course I am! It din’t make no sense, but I’m certain sure for positive,” she was emphatic. “An’ that in’t all. There’s a table knife missing, one o’ the real sharp ones for cutting meat. Rob, the boot boy, says he saw an old man ’ere wot brought a big box, about midnight, an’
then took it away again.”
“When?” Pitt asked. “The night of the murder? Where?”
“Downstairs, going past the butler’s pantry and out into the yard,”
she replied. “ ’E came wi’ a big wooden box. Edwards ’elped him carry it.”
“How big was the box?” Pitt said immediately.
“Dunno. But I can ask.”
“No,” he said quickly, grasping her arm. “Don’t ask. It doesn’t matter. See if you can find out if anyone else saw him, and how long he was here. Just possibly the woman’s death has nothing to do with the guests here after all.” He smiled suddenly, a glowing look, full of hope.
Gracie grinned back at him, satisfied she had helped him, really helped. Maybe even helped the Queen herself. Suddenly the scrubbing and the obedience were worth it. She heard footsteps below, and went on up the steps with light feet, leaving Pitt to go down.
CHAPTER FOUR
Pitt received gracie’s information with a surge of optimism. He paced the room he had been given, turning it over in his mind. If it could be proved that the old man the boot boy had seen entering the Palace with the box delivered to Cahoon Dunkeld was guilty, then the case could be closed with no worse scandal than a certain laxity on the part of the guards who had allowed him in. But even that was something for which they could hardly be blamed. He had come because he was a carter delivering a box belonging to one of His Royal Highness’s guests. And if he had taken one of the dinner knives, the sudden opportunity presenting itself, then he had not arrived armed, or with the intent to commit murder.
So how on earth had he found the prostitute and persuaded her to go with him to the linen cupboard? What had happened to her clothes? No one had yet found them. And more than that, if he were a lunatic seeking a victim at random, why not one of the maids he met in a corridor?
He must have known the prostitute and deliberately sought her out. By the time he had gone upstairs he
