“Thank you, Mr. Hammonds,” the Duke praised the old man, “There was one piece of mail that I particularly wanted to read, but kept getting interrupted.”
“Let me know when you are ready for it.”
“I am curious,” Inspector Ravensgard put in, “Old legionnaire’s trick?”
The Duke looked uncomfortable, and Mr. Hammonds’ normally somber face broke into something close to a grin. “When the Duke, Mr. McOwen, and Mr. McAhmladhson were lads, they could get into more mischief than twenty boys. One of the things that they delighted in doing was breaking into the pantry. The late Duke would have had their hides if they had broken the door, so they became very clever at picking the lock. I caught them by pasting a dyed string across the keyhole and sprinkling flour on the floor.”
“I remember that,” Mr. McOwen commented. “I’m not sure what happened to the Duke or Mr. McAhmladhson, but I was assigned to muck out the stables for a month.”
“Sums,” the Duke said in a hollow voice. “Page after page of difficult sums. When I mastered those, it was multiplication, and then division. My tutor had just introduced me to square roots when Father relented.”
“But . . . old legionnaire’s trick?” The inspector looked puzzled.
“That’s what I told the lads it was. Truth be told, I did learn it from a quartermaster. Hungry young soldiers are clever lads.”
“So it has become something of a code. And the post office?”
“Ah, that is only for the Duke and for me. He can tell you if he wishes, but sometimes it is necessary to keep a little something back. These walls have ears.”
“I’ve heard that about castles,” the inspector observed sagely.
“So what now?” the constable asked.
“We bring the dogs in and see if they can get a scent. It might not work. This room has had a lot of people in it.”
The two beautiful, long-legged white and red hounds entered the room cautiously. Gertrude stepped carefully over the fallen flowers and mud, whuffling her nose around the fireplace and across to the opposite door. Fionn, who was not in the castle as often, poked his nose under the desk and investigated the corners of the room.
He then joined Gertrude at the library door on the other side of the study. Unfortunately, Mr. Hammonds had not thought to sprinkle flour around this door, so there were no handy prints to follow.
The dogs followed the scent trail to the door of the Duke’s sleeping chamber, to the tall library ladder, and to a chair near a window. They tracked their quarry to the hall leading down to the great stair that led down to the main entrance, but there they seemed to lose it.
“Well, that’s that,” said Mr. McOwen. “They tried, but the hall is just too busy and too full of scents.”
“Or the person they were trying to track is a member of the staff, and their scent is a familiar one.” Inspector Ravensgard looked up and down the hallway, as if expecting the owner of the scent to pop out from a doorway.
“It is almost certain that the person is someone who works here,” Mr. Hammonds said softly, his modulated voice muted down to a basso rumble. “Only a servant would have known where the keys are kept. It is not often that the Duke’s study is locked, but he has done it occasionally. That is why I knew that locking it would only tell someone that there was something of value inside.”
“Dear me, my wits must have been sleeping this morning.” The Duke gave a rueful chuckle. “Well, there is still a mess to clean up at the orangery, but it is clear that a guard should be posted on my chambers and study, if for no other reason than to prevent malicious mischief.”
Chapter 45
Jonathan quickly returned to the orangery. When he asked Gunther about sending a team back up to the house, the senior guard asked volunteers.
Smythe and Wilson were only too glad to get out of standing about in the hot sun, as the day had turned out quite warm. “Still a lot of standing around,” Wilson said.
“But out of the sun, at least,” Smythe returned. “As work goes, I’d just as lief stand about in a stone corridor as out here with the midges. They seem to love me.”
Jonathan watched the two guards a moment as they strode off up the graveled path, then turned his attention to the work at hand. Most of the plants that could be salvaged had been moved now. Gran’ther Tim came over to say that they had been able to save at least a third of the valuable medicinal plants, and that they had been suitably cordoned off in one of the other two orangeries.
Four of the Cory brothers volunteered to stand guard over the poison plants, and several other village lads would guard the outside of the vulnerable glass houses. Two of Gran’ther Tim’s nephews valiant declared they would stand guard over the old man. It was a sure sign of the Gran’ther’s fatigue that he did not protest.
“Would you like a guard at the Gentle Sisters?” Jonathan asked Father Jacob and Sister Agatha.
Father Jacob shook his head. “Parson Graves will spend the night in our guest room. He was a prize-winning pugilist in his youth, and can help with any hand-to-hand situations. If it comes to swords, I have my trusty quarter staff, which has been proven against many a sword in its time. Should we need to defend ourselves from guns, Sister Agatha is a crack shot and has bagged many a dinner for us. We shall do well enough, and your guards are spread thin as it is.”
Jonathan was too tired to argue. He, Mr. McOwen, and Mr. McAhmladhson trudged back to the castle. Once there, they ate a cold supper from the buffet that Miss Sedgewick had laid out for them, then each retired to his own rooms.
Jonathan found that he was too tired to ring for his valet. Tugging off his boots, he lay down on his bed, tugging the coverlet over him. There was something oddly gritty about his bed, but in his exhaustion he just did not care. He closed his eyes and was almost instantly asleep.
