“My Lord, the constable from London has come to take your statement,” Lloyd said before allowing the man in.
“Certainly, please.” Callum stood up and approached to greet the officer, who was now frowning at the butler.
“My apologies, My Lord,” the tall man said, extending his hand, “but I am not a constable. I’m Detective Ian Hand, an Inspector General, and I’ve been assigned to take your statement about a recent robbery.”
“Yes, of course,” Callum said. “Won’t you please sit?”
The officer gave his coat to Lloyd and took a seat opposite Callum’s at his desk. He laid a small leather-bound book upon the desk and opened it to a clean page and held his pencil poised above it, prepared to write.
“I’m impressed, but rather surprised London would send a high-level detective over my rather minor loss,” Callum began, wondering what warranted such a visit. “I have not even yet spoken with a local officer of the court about the matter as I’ve had no time.”
“I’m sorry, My Lord, I am not here concerned only with your case,” the detective explained. “There have been a great number of incidents in the past many weeks, enough that the department has assigned me to oversee the progress in putting an end to it.”
“Ah, well. That makes sense!” Callum said, feeling nervous for some unknown reason. “How can I help?”
“If you would, tell me precisely where you were when the incident occurred? As well as the number and approximate ages of the men who accosted you. If you are also able to describe them, that would be most helpful.”
The officer held his pencil at the ready while Callum thought. Something nagged at his brain, some unrecognized fear or fault. He began to retell what he could remember of the incident, though his hesitation almost made him stumble over the details.
“Wait a moment, My Lord, but did you say there was a woman present?” the officer asked, frowning. “What did she look like?”
“Well, slight of build, of course, but… but I’m not sure that I got a very close look at her.” Callum paused, daring the other man to challenge his explanation.
Behind him, Lloyd said nothing, his face as stoic as ever.
“How old would you think she was?” Detective Hand asked, still looking down at his notebook and writing furiously.
“Oh, I’m not sure that I could venture a guess. I don’t think I saw her clearly enough to make an estimation.”
“But she was with the band of thieves?” Hand pressed.
Callum shrugged his shoulders. “I at least thought she might be, but I have no way of confirming that.”
A sudden rush of heat rose up Callum’s back and spread across his neck. He turned to his butler and said, “Lloyd, something for us to drink, if you please?”
“Of course, My Lord.” Lloyd left to retrieve the order, and the detective continued writing.
“Did this woman attempt to cry out for help, or call out to anyone who might be of assistance in your struggle?” Detective Hand inquired. Callum grew more and more fearful of how to answer.
“I don’t know why she would do such a thing, I’ve already stated that there was no one nearby and no houses in the vicinity,” he replied, twisting his hands together slightly.
“I would think it’s just human instinct. After all,” the officer added, “if she was truly an innocent bystander, the urge should have been to call for help upon seeing your distress.”
“I cannot fathom why you are so singularly focused on some woman who chanced to be passing by,” Callum said forcefully. “I’m not very reassured about seeing my stolen property again if you care not to discover the identities of the actual thieves!”
He paused, breathless, while the detective studied his face for a moment. The officer finally said, “Of course, My Lord. We will do all that we can to uncover these criminals and retrieve any contraband they may still possess. Perhaps you can start by describing the men, and then your missing items.”
They spoke at length, never venturing to return to the subject of Beatrix. Callum couldn’t dispose himself of the distinct feeling that the detective knew he was hiding something, though surely even a trained man of the law would never have guessed the culprit was there on the premises.
“I think that is all I need,” Detective Hand said, shutting his notebook and dropping it into his pocket. Lloyd appeared with his coat and assisted him in putting it on. “I’ll send word if there’s anything else I need. Good day, My Lord.”
The butler led the detective down the stairs and out to his waiting driver while Callum moved aside the curtains and watched his departure from the window. The man’s inquiry was an unexpected problem, but not one that he could not resolve.
* * *
Promptly at four o’clock, Peter and his mother enjoyed their tea outside. The air was still pleasantly warm but not oppressively so, and unusual though it may be, it was a favorite ritual of Lady Margaret’s to enjoy fresh air whenever the opportunity struck. Peter himself had been raised on a diet of vigorous exercise out of doors and avoidance of stuffy rooms that carried sickness.
“So tell me what your father was so ill-tempered about this morning,” she said to her son, passing him a plate of thin breads and smoked salmon.
