‘My answer has to be that I just don’t know, my lord. There are perfectly innocent explanations for his appearances at the various murder sites. Well, not entirely innocent if you include Frankie the masseuse at the hotel. He had to be at the Silkworkers Hall for the dinner — he is Prime Warden of the Company, after all. And it sounds as though he had to go to Norfolk to try to persuade the bursar of Allison’s School to change his mind. He can’t have been sure about the votes, Sir Peregrine. It sounds as if his proposal could have gone either way. But there’s nothing to link him directly with the actual murders.’
‘Everything you say is true,’ said Miles Devereux, still with his languid air, ‘except there is one fact we should never forget about Sir Peregrine Fishborne. He stands to make an enormous amount of money if his scheme is approved. He will become one of the richest men in England. People say he has been stacking the livery company with his supporters for years. He may have spent a decade dreaming up this plan. If it succeeds, he need never work again. He could employ a whole netball team of masseuses if he wanted.
‘Sir Peregrine was certainly in the vicinity of the places where all three murders were committed,’ Inspector Devereux went on, ‘and I think we should remember one crucial piece of information about him. The old men at the Jesus Hospital were going to vote against the scheme. Now, with Meredith out of the way and the bribes in place, they voted in favour. Sir Rufus Walcott at the Silkworkers Hall was the leader of the opposition to his plans. Heaven knows how many of Sir Rufus’s supporters have been bribed or changed their minds, we simply don’t know, but he was not around to vote against. And at the school, more bribery. I suggest that without the murders Sir Peregrine might well have lost the vote. With the murders, he has won the day.’
‘Well put, Inspector,’ said Powerscourt. ‘That is a compelling argument. Well done indeed.’
‘I know there has been one unfortunate encounter,’ Miles Devereux went on, ‘the meeting with tea for one, but I think we should pick him up again, Sir Peregrine, I mean. Leave him to rot in the cells for a couple of hours this time. Hold up his solicitor when he arrives. I don’t think he’d ever confess, Sir Peregrine, but he might incriminate himself.’
‘I think we should investigate that chauffeur of his,’ said Inspector Fletcher. ‘The man goes everywhere with him. What happens if he has a dual role for Sir Peregrine? Driver by day, murderer by night? I’ll put one of my men on it when I get back to the station.’
‘Good idea,’ said Powerscourt. ‘There are a number of lines of inquiry still proceeding in all three cases. I do think the most important thing we have to decide this afternoon is what to do with Sir Peregrine. What about you, Inspector Grime? What are your views on the Prime Warden of the Silkworkers? Do you think we should bring him into the police station for questioning?’
‘I’m honestly not sure,’ said Inspector Grime. ‘There is a great deal of circumstantial evidence against him — as my colleague said, the bloody man was on the scene of all three murders. But he had a reason for being there on all three occasions. We don’t have anything that links him specifically to the dead. The motive, of course, is very strong, but I wonder if we shouldn’t wait for something more concrete. As things stand we might just have a fruitless conversation with the lawyers, causing confusion all round.’
It was Inspector Devereux who brought up the most difficult point. ‘I recall, my lord, that you used to believe that the strange marks on the bodies were the key to the whole affair. Could I ask if you still believe that?’
‘Well,’ said Powerscourt, ‘I realize I may be in a minority of one here, but yes, I still do believe that. However unpopular that makes me in present company. I have always thought that the murderer, undoubtedly an arrogant murderer, was sending some kind of message with those marks that only the recipients would understand. So far, of course, nobody has been able to identify the stigmata at all. But I haven’t given up hope.’
‘I believe I have mentioned it to you before, my lord,’ Miles Devereux had raised himself from a recumbent to a sitting position, ‘but do you not think it possible that Sir Peregrine, or some other possible murderer, has merely used this device to throw us off the scent?’
‘I think it’s possible, but not likely.’
‘I think we should let Sir Peregrine stew in his own juice for a few days longer,’ said Inspector Fletcher. ‘Our investigations into the chauffeur may come up with something. I might speak to that masseuse Frankie again and see if she has anything more to tell us.’
‘Very well,’ said Powerscourt. ‘I think we agree that we should leave Sir Peregrine a little longer.’
‘I’m with you there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my lord,’ Inspector Grime was checking the ornate clock on the mantelpiece, ‘I have to go and interview one of the Lewis sons. I’m going to call unannounced at six o’clock. My sergeant will be knocking on the door of his brother at exactly the same time so they can’t concoct some more lies about chess matches.’
The meeting broke up with Inspector Devereux offering the use of a couple of cells to Inspector Grime for the incarceration of his suspects. ‘We’ve got one cell in particular where you can listen in to what they’re saying to each other from next door. The carpenters have made the wall in between completely hollow to let the sound pass through without the suspects knowing. It’s a low trick but we are dealing with murder here.’
The Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost swept silently across the streets of Mayfair. Rhys, the Powerscourt chauffeur, was wearing his best blue uniform with his cap sitting plumb centre in the middle of his head. Lady Lucy was sitting in the back seat in a new dress from Worth that swept down to the floor in a single graceful line. Powerscourt was in full evening dress, even down to his medals.
‘Do I have to?’ he had asked, as they were preparing for the ball.
‘I think you do, Francis. You always look so handsome in evening dress and you’ll look even better with your medals. Besides, lots of men will be wearing their decorations on a night like this. It’s what people do.’
Reluctantly Powerscourt had complied.
‘I don’t think we’ve been to the Queen Charlotte’s Ball for years, Francis. I’m really looking forward to it.’
Powerscourt grunted and fiddled with his tie. He had to go through with it. He knew how much Lady Lucy loved dancing.
There was a great throng waiting outside the main entrance of Grosvenor House. Rhys had to wait five minutes before he was able to draw up at the right spot. Powerscourt and Lady Lucy stepped over the threshold into the vast reception hall which was festooned with flowers. Lady Lucy was to learn later that a special train had brought them over from Paris, roses and lilies and tulips and every sort of ornamental flower that money could buy. There was a reception line snaking out across the hall and into the drawing room on the left. One room beyond that on the left-hand side of the house was the ballroom. Strains of a polka drifted out into the great hall. Supper was laid out in the salon to their right. The room was awash with colour, the blues and reds and the white sashes of the military, the dashing colours of the ladies’ dresses, the tiaras and necklaces that sparkled with diamonds and rubies. Powerscourt was surprised to see so many military men there. He wondered fancifully if they had returned to the Duchess of Richmond’s ball on the eve of Waterloo.
There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium’s capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men.
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell;