Sensing more was needed, Susan added, “More or less immediately after we’d dealt with the tea trolley.”
Penelope ventured, “So around eight o’clock?”
“About that,” Pamela said. “As far as we know, all the men remained downstairs, presumably in the library or the billiards room. I’m not aware of who went where.”
“We weren’t feeling very convivial,” Mrs. Hemmings said, “as I’m sure you can understand.”
“Indeed.” Penelope inclined her head to the company. “Thank you.” Then, she shifted her gaze to Pamela and Susan. “One last question. Can you tell us who among those presently here have also been a guest at Wyndham Castle?”
That hadn’t been on their list of questions, but Barnaby could see why his clever wife had posed it.
Pamela shared a look with Susan, then said, “The Wincombes, certainly, and Lady Campbell-Carstairs and Lady Kelly, of course. The Hemmingses, Leith, Kilpatrick…”
“Nevin-Smythe,” Susan put in, “and Lord and Lady Carville and Morland.”
“Oh, and Griffith,” Pamela stated, “and Mr. Elliot, and Vincent’s friends, Mr. Patterson and Mr. Fentiman.” She looked at Penelope. “And, of course, all the members of Susan’s and my families.”
By her expression, Penelope was mentally striking through names on the guest list. Eventually, she said, “So not Morehouse, Carrington, Cordingley, or Percival.”
“No.” Pamela was quite definite. “We haven’t had the pleasure of those gentlemen’s company at the castle as yet.”
Lady Campbell-Carstairs snorted. “Not for want of trying in Richard’s case. We’ve done our best to inveigle him into attending several house parties there, but he’s as slippery as an eel when he wants to be and never obliged.”
Penelope smiled and inclined her head to the company. “Thank you. That’s really all we needed from you.” She paused, then asked, “Mrs. Waterhouse?”
“You just missed her, dear,” Lady Kelly said. “She slipped upstairs to fetch a shawl. If you want to speak with her, I’m sure she’ll be back at any minute.”
No doubt noticing the gleam in several pairs of eyes, Penelope shook her head. “No, no. I was just curious.”
Barnaby half bowed, and he and Penelope quit the room before they could be detained and interrogated. As they reentered the hall, he felt the heightening of the impending urgency they and Stokes had earlier acknowledged. To Penelope, he murmured, “It seems we’re closing in.”
“It does,” she returned. “But attendance at Wyndham Castle, while indicative, can’t be considered conclusive.”
“No, but it does focus the mind.”
The clack of billiard balls drew them down the corridor to the room from which the sound was emanating. There, somewhat to their surprise, they found what, at first glance, appeared to be the entire company of gentlemen.
The older men were sitting in armchairs crammed around the room’s perimeter, while the younger crew stood about in groups, idly chatting and watching Cordingley and Patterson, who were engaged in a game.
Of course, when Barnaby and Penelope walked in, all conversation ceased, and all eyes swung their way. Then, in deference to Penelope, the gentlemen seated started to rise, but she quickly waved at them to remain seated, and they gratefully subsided. Cordingley, who had been leaning over the table, lining up a shot, straightened, cue in hand, and, like everyone else, looked expectantly their way.
A quick scan of the company showed that most were present with two notable exceptions.
Penelope turned her head and whispered, “Leith and Richard aren’t here.”
Sotto voce, Barnaby murmured back, “That might make this easier.”
He raised his voice. “We have a few last questions. First, for those who were in the library on Monday morning, prior to the murder.” He focused on the cluster of older men.
Helpfully, Penelope added, “That’s Lord Morland, Mr. Elliot, Mr. Morehouse, Mr. Carrington, and Lord Wincombe.”
All five gave them their undivided attention, plainly eager to assist.
Barnaby asked, “Thinking back to when Underhill came in and chatted with you all, can you describe where in the room he stood?”
Faintly mystified, the gentlemen involved glanced at one another, then Carrington offered, “Well, he came in and stopped by the three armchairs closer to the door. Elliot, Morehouse, and I were sitting there, reading, and Underhill chatted a bit, then”—Carrington tipped his head toward Morland and Wincombe—“moved on down the room to where Wincombe and Morland were sitting.”
The other four men were all nodding, and Elliot added, “He was just circling about like any good host, exchanging a few words with each of us, then moving on.”
