‘But you saw the man who called yesterday,’ Richard pressed her. ‘Was he as tall as I am? Taller, perhaps?’
The landlady regarded him with her sharp eyes but said nothing. Richard pulled another coin from his pocket. ‘Well?’
‘No, sir, he wasn’t as tall as you.’ The money disappeared into her pudgy hand. ‘Fashionable swell, though. Handsome. Black shiny hair and a fine set o’ whiskers.’
‘And you would be willing to swear to this in court?’
Immediately the woman looked wary and Richard said impatiently, ‘Surely the constables asked you to describe the fellow?’
‘No, sir. They said there was no need. They said her killer was locked up right and tight. Now, is that your dress on the table, madam? Yellow muslin with green stitching, you said. Mrs Meesden was working on it when I showed her gentleman friend upstairs.’
‘Yes, that is it,’ said Grace.
The gown was neatly folded and weighted down with Meesden’s Bible.
‘Well, you should take it and go. I’ve got to clear this room today, I’ve another tenant wanting to move in.’
The landlady ushered them out of the room and down the stairs, closing the door behind them with a bang. Richard took Grace’s arm and escorted her back to their carriage.
‘Well,’ demanded Phyllida as they set off. ‘What did you learn?’
Grace said slowly, ‘Meesden’s visitor was not your brother-in-law.’
Richard agreed. ‘The description the landlady gave usdoesfit Charles Urmston, though. I think he wrote the note to Wolf, then came here to take Meesden to Vauxhall, where he killed her.’
Grace frowned. ‘That is a serious allegation, Mr Arrandale.’
‘I know but I believe he would do it.’
‘Perhaps, if the dresser knew things that would implicate him in your sister-in-law’s murder.’
‘My thoughts exactly, Miss Duncombe.’
She sat upright and said with sudden decision, ‘We must talk to Wolfgang again.’
‘Now?’ Richard looked at his watch. ‘The day is well advanced. Your aunt will be expecting you.’
Wolf’s image swam before Grace’s eyes and she clasped her hands together, as if in supplication. ‘I have the strongest feeling we should tell your brother our suspicions. Immediately.’
Phyllida touched her husband’s arm. ‘We have two footmen up behind us, my dear. One of them could be sent to inform Mrs Graham that we will be delayed.’
‘But is it not too much for you, love?’ he asked her. ‘We have been gadding about all day.’
Phyllida smiled. ‘I have been sitting at my ease in a coach, Richard. I am not at all tired, I promise you.’
With a nod Richard jumped out to issue instructions to his servants and Grace gave Phyllida a grateful look, then was immediately assailed by doubt. Was she allowing her growing attraction to Wolf Arrandale to cloud her judgement? Perhaps she just wanted to see him again. It was late, she should go home, but the feeling persisted that they should talk to him. She comforted herself with the fact that the others had not argued strongly against it and soon they were crossing the river again, heading for the prison.
They travelled in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, but as they were approaching the Sessions House Richard sat up, staring out of the window.
‘I think we might have to revise our plans.’
There was something in his voice that alerted Grace and she followed his glance. Coming out of the coffee house on the corner of the street was the magistrate, Gilbert Hatcham, accompanied by a fashionably dressed gentleman. They stopped on the pavement to take leave of one another and the gentleman removed his hat to display his thick black hair and a fine set of whiskers. A cold chill settled over Grace.
‘Is that Sir Charles Urmston?’ she asked, her throat growing dry.
‘It is indeed,’ muttered Richard. ‘And he looks to be on the best possible terms with the magistrate.’
