Sick of Shadows - M. C. Beaton [63]
“I’ve an idea,” said Daisy. “’Member that ladder we used to get over the garden wall? It’s at the side of the garden. If we left, say, about five in the morning, the staff would still be asleep. We could sneak out and get the early-morning train at Paddington.”
“We’ll do it!” said Rose.
Harry set out to find the temporary footman who had worked for the Tremaines. His name was Will Hubbard and his address was number five Sweetwater Lane in the City.
After the Great Fire, plans had been drawn up to build a modern City out of the ashes, with airy streets and wide boulevards. But there turned out to be so many claims from property owners who would demand heavy compensation if, say, a street ran through where their buildings used to be, that the new City, the commercial hub of London, rose again following the old medieval pattern of narrow winding lanes.
Sweetwater Lane was just north of Ludgate Circus and consisted of two lines of black tenements. Number five had a great quantity of bell-pulls. Harry pulled several of them. The front door was opened by a lever on each landing. When the door opened, several voices asked him what he wanted.
“Will Hubbard,” he shouted. There was a sudden silence and then the sound of slamming doors.
He made his way up, knocking on door after door, but nobody answered until, at the very top, an elderly lady opened the door a little. “I am Captain Cathcart,” said Harry. “I am helping Scotland Yard with an investigation.”
The door began to close. He put his foot in it, fished out a guinea and held it up. The door opened wide. She snatched the guinea in a claw-like hand.
“Come in. What do you want?”
The room was sparsely furnished with a table and two chairs and an iron bedstead in the corner. A linnet in a wicker cage sang at the window.
“Do you know where I can find William Hubbard?”
“In the cemetery.”
“What happened?”
“ ’Twere a good few months ago. I heard shouting and then a scream. That was during the night. But there’s often screaming and shouting here. In the morning, I went out to buy milk. He lived in the room below this one. The door was standing open and he was lying there, all blood. He’d been stabbed.
“I was ever so shook. I went out and saw a policeman and told him. More police came and then detectives. But nobody said anything. Well, most of them are villains, so they wouldn’t. Then his pore sister came. Such a taking she was in. I took her up to my room and made her tea.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
“She wrote it down on a slip of paper and told me if I remembered anything at all to contact her.”
“Do you still have it?”
She went over to the mantelpiece and extracted a piece of paper from behind a plaster statue of the Virgin Mary.
“May I take this?”
“Yes, I’ve no use for it. I couldn’t tell her any more than I’ve told you.”
Outside, Harry looked at the paper. A Miss Emily Hubbard was lady’s maid to a Mrs. Losse and there was an address in Launceston Place in Kensington.
He drove to Launceston Place and rang the bell. When a butler answered, Harry handed him his card and said he wished to speak to Miss Hubbard.
“Wait there,” said the butler, letting him into a hall which was little more than a narrow passage.
Harry waited. Then the butler came back downstairs, followed by a vision. This surely could not be the lady’s maid.
“Captain Cathcart,” she cooed in a husky voice with a slight accent. “I’ve always wanted to meet you. I am Mrs. Losse. Please come into the parlour and tell me why you want to speak to Emily.”
Mrs. Losse had masses of glossy auburn hair piled up on her small head. Her excellent bosom and tiny waist were displayed to advantage in a green silk gown which matched her very large and sparkling green eyes.
She listened while Harry told her of the murder of William Hubbard. “I feel it is connected to another case I am