‘Oh, I have the authority all right,’ Boone said. ‘But even so, it might be more proper if you were to speak with the mistress first.’ A thin smile flickered across his lips so swiftly that Blackstone was not entirely sure it had even been there. ‘It also might be more entertaining,’ the butler added.
When Boone announced Blackstone’s arrival in the upstairs salon, the mistress of the house, Mrs van Horne, was already waiting to receive him. She was a large woman, a fact which even her expensive and skilfully cut tea-gown could not disguise, and her attempt to sweep gracefully across the thickly carpeted floor put the inspector in mind of an elephant in a tutu. Not that she continued to sweep for long — as her eyes fell on his second-hand suit, she stopped in her tracks and quickly turned away, in search of something more salubrious to look at.
Blackstone waited patiently for the lady to muster the strength to face his repulsive self again, and finally she did.
‘When my butler informed me that an English inspector of police wished to speak to me, I was most certainly not expecting that someone dressed in the manner in which you are dressed would be appearing before me,’ said Mrs van Horne, her voice sounding slightly choked.
She speaks almost as elegantly as she moves, Blackstone thought. And this happens to be my best suit, lady. You should just see my other one!
‘You’re quite sure you are an inspector of police, are you?’ Mrs van Horne asked sceptically.
‘Ah, it’s the clothes that have got you confused!’ Blackstone said, as if enlightenment had just dawned on him.
‘Confused?’ Mrs van Horne repeated, confusedly.
‘I should perhaps have mentioned earlier that I’m in disguise,’ Blackstone explained.
‘Disguise?’ the lady echoed. ‘And what, pray, are you supposed to be disguised as?’
‘As one of the common people,’ Blackstone said. And then, on the principle of in-for-a-penny-in-for-a-pound, he added, ‘You see, it would never do to move among the criminal classes dressed in my ermine, would it?’
‘Your ermine?’
‘My robes of state,’ Blackstone amplified. ‘Didn’t I mention that I was Lord Blackstone of Chucklebuttie?’
‘No, you didn’t. So you are a lord?’
‘We prefer the term “peer of the realm”,’ Blackstone said, sounding slightly disappointed that the woman had not known that.
‘Yet you still find the need to work for a living?’
‘So it would seem, or I wouldn’t be here.’
‘Are you poor?’ Mrs van Horne asked, putting the same emphasis on the last word as she might have put on leper.
Blackstone laughed. ‘Of course I’m not poor. I follow the profession of police officer out of a strong sense of duty. It’s what we peers of the realm call noblesse oblige.’
‘What an extraordinary breed of people you English seem to be,’ the lady said.
But the look of disdain had quite vanished from her face, and now she seemed to be regarding him almost as an equal.
‘I assume that your butler told you of the reason for my visit, Mrs van Horne,’ Blackstone said.
‘Indeed. You wish to question one of my servants — a Norma Something-or-other.’
‘Nancy,’ Blackstone corrected her. ‘Nancy Greene.’
‘Just so. But I’m afraid that will not be possible, as Boone has just informed me that the girl is no longer in my employ.’
‘Why did she leave? Was she dismissed?’
Mrs van Horne wafted her hand through the air in a way which suggested that it was an extraordinary question for him to have asked.
‘I have absolutely no idea, though given the lack of respect that the working class are allowed to display towards their betters these days, it would not surprise me if she had been ungrateful enough to have simply removed herself from my service without so much as a by-your-leave.’
Blackstone was finally catching on. ‘You have no idea who she is, have you?’
‘Indeed I do not,’ the lady said haughtily. ‘I have so many servants in my household, you see, that I could not possibly keep track of them all, even if I were inclined to.’
Blackstone was growing bored with the game — and even more bored with the woman’s pompous vulgarity.
‘Could I speak to the servants now?’ he asked.
Mrs van Horne nodded graciously. ‘I must admit that my first thought, as you entered the room, was to refuse you permission to see them, since you did not seem at all like the right kind of policeman.’ She paused. ‘All four of the police commissioners for New York City have dined at this house, you know. And on more than one occasion!’
Then it must have been the food that brought them back for second helpings, Blackstone — because it certainly couldn’t have been the company.
‘But you changed your mind,’ he said aloud.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Your first thought was to deny me permission.’
‘Ah, yes, but having spoken to you more fully, I have decided it would be wrong to go by initial appearances.’
Mrs van Horne tugged gently on the silk bell pull, and the butler appeared instantly in the doorway.
‘Lord Blackstone would like to interview the servants, Boone,’ Mrs van Horne said. ‘See to it.’
‘Certainly, madam,’ the butler said. He turned, and bowed slightly in Blackstone’s general direction. ‘If you would like to follow me, my lord, I will see to it that all you require is effected.’
Then he raised his head again, looked Blackstone squarely in the eye — and gave him a broad wink.
They were sitting at the breakfast table in the butler’s parlour. They had taken off their jackets and were both savouring the taste of the vintage port which Boone had had sent up from the wine cellar.
‘What happened upstairs was better than I’d ever hoped it would be,’ the butler said. ‘I was nearly in hysterics when you said you were a peer of the realm, and that fat sow actually believed you.’
‘So you were listening at the door,’ Blackstone said.
‘Naturally I was listening at the door. We all have to take our amusement where we can find it.’ Boone took a sip of his port. ‘Of course, you wouldn’t fool anyone with real class for a minute,’ he continued, matter-of-factly. ‘Even with a coronet on your head, a page boy walking behind you holding your train, and a company of heralds trumpeting your arrival, the Quality would have had you marked down as a fake the moment they saw you.’
‘I fooled your mistress,’ Blackstone said.
‘That just proves my point,’ Boone replied. ‘You have to be born into class. However much you might want to, you can’t buy it and you can’t acquire it through marriage. Which is why the master would still be a gentleman even if he lost everything and ended up living on the street. And why the mistress will never be anything but a tea merchant’s daughter if she lives to be a hundred.’
‘You’re a snob,’ Blackstone said.
‘Damned right I am,’ Boone agreed.
Blackstone took another sip of the ruby port. It really was an excellent vintage.
‘Tell me about Nancy Greene,’ he said.
Boone hesitated before speaking. ‘If I’m going to do that, I’d first like to know why you’re interested in her.’
For a moment Blackstone considered telling the butler a convenient lie, then he looked into Boone’s sharp eyes and quickly realized that lying would never work with this man.
‘I believe she has some information about the murder of Inspector Patrick O’Brien,’ he said.
‘You’re not suggesting she was involved in it?’
‘Not directly, no.’
‘So she’s indirectly involved?’
‘We think so.’
‘And if you find her, will she be punished for that indirect involvement?’ Boone asked, and though he tried to give the impression it didn’t matter to him one way or the other, he failed badly.