“Which should not be any time soon,” the Watch physician commented. “I measured the dose to go into their tea most precisely.”
“You measured it.” Percival glowered at Dr. Abslom. “What sort of physician goes about putting sleeping powders in my guests’ tea?”
“One who does not desire a great deal of fuss,” the Watch captain said dryly. “Perhaps, My Lord, if you would just come along with us quietly? I fear that your butler has already come to harm. Surely you do not wish to endanger any other members of your household.”
Mr. Quentin chose that moment to cease shamming unconsciousness. “I say, Percy, that is some exceptionally stout tea. Rather fine stuff for sending one off to slumberland, but scarcely to be recommended for keeping watch.”
“I’m afraid you’ve been had by an exceptionally old ploy, my friend. Except I wasn’t the one to dose your drink.”
“Then who had the audacity . . . ah, I see. The false doctor. And who is this with him?”
“That would be the captain of the Watch. Although, if I have any say about it, he shall be dismissed and perhaps ridden out of town after this.”
“Jolly fine idea, Percy,” Quentin nodded.
“How dare you be so familiar with my nephew!” Lord Ronald glared down his nose at Quentin.
Quentin considered the question. “Well, you see, after the great biscuit caper, and the pie snatching, to say nothing of the spider in the headmaster’s drawer . . .”
“The—” Percival stared at his friend a moment, because although they had shared a few high-jinx in school, most of the time the three of them had engaged in study, athletic competition, debate and oration. “—ah, yes. The biscuit caper. I was always fond of biscuits, especially with raisins and nut bits. But the pie caper . . . that was much better.”
“Biscuits? Did someone say biscuits?” Kenault sat up groggily, looking around. “I think I could eat a few. Say, Percy, old man, what ever happened to that capital cook? Whoever made this tea must have grabbed the chamomile by mistake.”
At the mention of Tiffany, Percival felt as if he had been stabbed all over again. Could she have been the one to do it? But why would she? If only he could remember the events leading up to the attack. But the evening was a blank.
“There were complications with the cook,” he told Kenault. “But I have sent for some fresh tea, hopefully that will have no extra ingredients added.”
“My Lord,” Lucas said anxiously, “About Mr. McClellan . . .”
“When the person brings up the tea, be sure to send them to assist Mr. McClellan, Lucas. But I need you to stay here. I fear that there are serious things afoot. I may need your assistance.”
Lucas gave him a speaking look. “Quite so, My Lord. I shall be sure to tell them.”
“Lord Ronald,” Dr. Abslom said pompously, “We really should take this matter in hand without further dilly-dallying. It is easy to see, what with all this talk of biscuits and pies, that these young men are a poor influence upon his Lordship.”
For just a moment, Percival narrowed his eyes at the ersatz doctor. “I believe I have the matter well in hand, Dr. Abslom. I have no intention of taking any further direction from you. As for you, Captain, I am surprised that you would take part in a charade such as this.”
Keep them talking. Just keep them talking. Constable Brooks should be on his way soon. I hope he will be able to disentangle this mess without anyone else getting hurt.
The captain’s face turned beet red, and he squirmed like a schoolboy receiving a lecture. “I’m given to understand that it is for your own good, My Lord. Sometimes a knock on the head can take a man’s wits.”
“A thinking man might reconsider,” Percival said. “Especially since you are the captain of my Watch, not some other lord’s Watch.”
“A point well taken, My Lord. But your well-being and that of your people was what I was hired to look after. An’ if you’ve lost your wits, then I’m duty bounden to take you in.”
“Who is to be the judge of that?” Percival asked. “And who will be blamed if this all goes awry?”
The captain clamped his lips together for a moment, then he said, “It’s my duty, My Lord. Please don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be.”
Chapter 53
Tiffany pulled the old clasp knife from her pocket.
“You still have that thing?” Michaels gasped. “I’d a thought you’d have done away with it.”
“It was my father’s,” Tiffany said. “It is the only thing I have that belonged to either of my real parents, so I’m not so likely to get rid of it as easily as all of that.”
She opened the blade, and gently slid it between the casements on the shutter that was closed over the dormer window, lifting the inner latch. Once the shutters were open, it was a simple matter to lift the sash so that they could both enter.
