Traitors Gate - Anne Perry [179]
“What? Oh, yes, yes I am perfectly well, thank you. Always well.” Eustace’s brain raced. Was it possible he was on the brink of discovery? “It is just that a friend of mine, more of an acquaintance, told me that he had been taken unwell here in the cloakroom and had summoned a steward from the drawing room who had called him a hansom.” He waited, almost holding his breath.
“No sir,” the attendant said patiently. “That is not possible, sir. The bell here doesn’t ring in the steward’s pantry. It only leads to my board, sir, nowhere else.”
“Then he was lying!” Eustace said in triumph.
The attendant looked at him with as much amazement as his duty and position allowed, not at the conclusion—which was unavoidable—but at Eustace’s delight in it.
“That seems a harsh judgment, sir. But he was certainly mistaken.”
“It was Hathaway,” Eustace said, plunging in where only moments before he would not have dared to be so blunt. “The day Sir Arthur Desmond died. Didn’t you call him a hansom?”
“Yes sir. One of the temporary stewards told me he was unwell, but I don’t know how he knew that.”
“You mean one of the attendants? Someone junior to yourself,” Eustace said.
“No sir, I mean a temporary steward, from one of the main rooms. Though, come to think of it, I don’t know how he knew, if Mr. Hathaway was in here!” He shook his head in denial of the impossible.
“Thank you, thank you! I am most obliged to you!” Eustace fished in his pocket and brought out a shilling. It was excessive; still, it would look so paltry to put it back and hand over a threepenny bit instead, and he was feeling in a highly generous mood. He gave it unstintingly.
“Thank you, sir.” The attendant masked his surprise and took it before Eustace could change his mind. “If I can be of any further assistance, please let me know.”
“Yes, yes of course.” Eustace only glanced at him, then strode out into the foyer and down the front steps to the street.
Charlotte was a few paces away; apparently she had been walking back and forth, maybe in her impatience, perhaps to make her waiting less obvious. She saw the expression of jubilation on his face and ran towards him.
“Yes? What have you found?” she demanded.
“Something quite extraordinary,” he said, his excitement fighting his normal manner and the condescension he considered appropriate when speaking to women. “The cloakroom bell does not connect with the steward’s pantry or any part of the rest of the club!”
She was confused. “Should it?”
“Don’t you see?” He caught her by the arm and began walking. “Hathaway said he called the steward from the cloakroom to fetch him a cab when he was taken ill. The drawing room steward told me that. He saw the steward go. But he couldn’t have, because the bell doesn’t ring there.” He was still gripping her arm firmly as he paced the pavement. “The cloakroom attendant said a steward from the drawing room told him that Hathaway was ill and wanted a cab. Hathaway lied!” Quite unconsciously he shook her gently. “Don’t you see? He said he did not come back into the main rooms. At least the steward said he didn’t … but he must have, if he called one of the ordinary stewards to get his cab!” He stopped abruptly, the satisfaction fading a little in his eyes. “Although I’m not quite sure what that proves….”
“What if …” Charlotte said, then stopped.
A lady with a parasol passed by, pretending not to look at them, a smile on her face.
“Yes?” Eustace urged.
“I don’t know … let me think. And please don’t grip me quite so hard. You’re hurting my arm.”
“Oh! Oh … I’m sorry.” He blushed and let go of her.
“An extra steward …” she began thoughtfully.
“That’s right. It seems they hire one or two now and then, I suppose if someone is ill or otherwise absent.”
“And there was one that day? Are you sure?”
“Yes. The steward I spoke to said he saw one.”
“What like?” She ignored two women carrying pretty boxes of millinery and chatting to each other.
“What like?” Eustace repeated.
“Yes! What did he look like?” Her voice was rising with urgency.
“Er … elderly, squarish, very little