“Perhaps they went out that way,” Constable Morris suggested.
One of the youngest handlers snorted. “More likely sniffing out dinner, Mr. Carter. That is a mighty scrumptious odor coming up those stairs.”
“One of the younger hounds, perhaps,” the hound master replied. “But not Majesty. She’s one of our best trackers. Let us see where she takes us.”
The group that had entered, consisting of Constable Morris, Evelyn, Mr. Carter, and three young handlers, followed Majesty. Their progress was accompanied by Maisie’s whimpers as she continued to struggle to get down.
Mrs. Bates, the cook from the village, met them in the kitchen. “Oh, Lor’,” she exclaimed, “There you are. I just told Mr. Wilson that I saw someone leaving by the kitchen door this morning. Whoever it was carried what looked like a carpet. I did not think anything of it, until I heard about Mr. Rudge going missing. Do you think they carried him out that way?”
Majesty had her nose to the ground, and was casting about the stone floor for the scent she had latched onto. Just as they thought they were making some progress, the Duke came striding down to them from the Main House.
“Making trouble again, Mrs. Swinton?” he jibed humorously, as he approached the group. He then nodded to the dogs, “How are they doing, Carter?”
“They seem a bit confused, Your Grace. They are having a hard time getting a clear scent.”
“I should imagine so,” the Duke replied.“This is a busy house, and if the culprits are employed here, their scent might well be all over.”
Maisie’s handler set her down, and the little rag mop dashed straight for him, then ran around him in circles, barking in a high-pitched yap.
The Duke stooped down, and she jumped into his arms, wriggling, and licking at his face. He laughed and said, “Atrocious little beast! What have you been eating? Your breath smells dreadful.”
Maisie apparently took this as high praise, for she settled down in the Duke’s arms and closed her eyes contentedly.
“You’ll get no more from this one,” the Duke said. “I’ll just take her with me, and go on down to the leading edge of the searchers. I believe they have reached the forest.” With that, the Duke of Tolware strode off down the lawn toward the other searchers.
Meanwhile, Majesty continued to snuffle about the grounds. She sniffed at the Duke’s footprints, and stared after him, but did not seem to focus on him. She continued to sniff about. More than once, she sat down, looking baffled. But she was soon up on her feet again, whuffling loudly.
Majesty backtracked several times, zigging and zagging here and there. She went to the stables once. The stable master met them, but denied there being any horses missing. “There is a horse blanket gone, though,” he added. “It’s the one the late Duke used on his favorite horse. We just put it by, like.”
“Let Majesty check the stables, then,” Constable Morris said. “Perhaps Mr. Rudge is more mobile than we thought, and finding the day chill, took the blanket.”
The constable, stable master, and hound master went into the stables. The rest, in deference to the stable master’s worry about upsetting the horses, did not go in.
When they returned to the rest of the group, Evelyn could see frustration on Constable Morris’s face. “Nothing,” he said, in response to her inquiring look. “Just nothing.”
As they walked back toward the Dower House, the wind picked up and the clouds that had been collecting overhead began to crackle with lightning. Across the river, the leading edge of the storm was visible. Rain was falling in a torrent. Fat raindrops began to fall from the sky. The group hastily took refuge on the roofed stoop back of the kitchen just in time to shelter from the downpour.
“Well, that’s put an end to using the dogs,” Mr. Carter said.
“Will you keep on looking?” Evelyn asked anxiously.
“Yes, we will, Mrs. Swinton,” Constable Morris replied. “But we are now reduced to what human eyes can see and human ears can hear. Any scent trails that might have been available have been washed away.”
Evelyn clasped her hands so tightly together that her knuckles turned white, and stared down across the expanse of lawn toward the meadow, the river, and the forest. “Perhaps Mr. McElroy is awake and we can learn something from him,” she suggested.
“My thoughts exactly, Mrs. Swinton,” Constable Morris confirmed. “Why don’t you go on up to the Duchess for now. Perhaps the two of you can come up with some good ideas. Meanwhile, I will put on my oilskins and go down to see how the searchers are doing.”
Going into the house and climbing the stairs to the Duchess’ rooms was the hardest thing Evelyn had ever done.
Oh, God, Evelyn silently prayed. Let him be safe. Just let him be safe, and I’ll never ask for anything again.
Chapter 45
When Evelyn entered the Duchess’ chambers and took off her hat and pelisse, the Duchess looked at her and said, “Well?”
Evelyn shook her head. “Nothing yet.”
“This is dreadful. Simply dreadful. Shall we next all be murdered in our beds?”