«If we knew that, my good man, our search would be infinitely easier,» Saint Just said, counting off steps as they passed by each low, dirty-paned dormer window.
The sound of the rain was much louder up here, and there were puddles here and there where the old roof had failed to hold back the water. A smell of damp was everywhere, the few bits and pieces of dust-sheeted furniture made more obvious, and more ominous, each time the lightning flashed.
«You notice something, Alex?» Maggie asked, speaking quietly as she pointed to the floor.
«Yes, I have. No footprints in the dust after those first few, which could have been from Sterling and Perry's aborted visit. None of the puddles disturbed. Don't mention either to Evan, if you please. I think the man is close to making a cake of himself as it is.»
«Yeah, if he was method acting now,» Maggie whispered, «he'd be dressed as the Cowardly Lion.»
«I beg your pardon?» There were times, too many times, when Saint Just became aware that his knowledge of the modern world, although growing each day, was at times still lamentably lacking in scope.
«Never mind. Are you still counting?»
At forty-two paces, the rooms began on either side of the attic. Each had its own door, and each door was closed, including that of the second room on the right.
«This is it?» Maggie asked, pointing to the door.
«I believe so. Evan? We could use an extra lantern over here. Ah, that's better. Shall we?»
Maggie motioned for Saint Just to go first, and he did so, holding the lantern high as he stepped into the room, then quickly ducked as several bats flew past him out into the main attic.
«Oh, cripes. Oh boy. Oh—oh !»
«It's all right, Evan,» Maggie said. Of course, she said that as she wrapped herself around Saint Just, all but cutting off his respirations.
«I'm so very fortunate to have two such stalwart assistants,» Saint Just said, peeling Maggie off him. «The chamber is larger than I'd supposed. What do you say we inspect the area outside this window, and then shut said window?»
«Good plan,» Maggie said, still holding onto him as, together, they sort of shuffled across the floor toward the window. «Really good plan. Except, how will the bats get back out again?»
«That, I believe, is a dilemma we'll leave for Sir Rudy,» Saint Just said, holding his lantern out over the scaffolding. «Ah.»
«Ah, what?» Maggie asked from behind him, her head pushed into his back. «Ah, I see? Ah, there's the scaffolding? Ah, the murderer left a clue? What ah?»
«Ah, it's still raining, actually,» Saint Just said, stepping back and winding the casement window shut, noting the squealing sound made by the old, unoiled hinges. Yes, Sterling and Perry may have had a lucky escape.
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his wet face. «Other than that, all I see is the remainder of the drapery cord blowing in the wind. We cut it from below, you understand, Arnaud and I. However, this does establish as fact that Undercuffler was hung from this room, and that he very possibly was killed here as well.»
«Right, Sherlock,» Maggie said quietly. «Now tell me how Sam and his killer got here.»
Chapter eleven
Maggie figured she jumped, oh, a good three feet in the air when Sir Rudy said from the doorway to the attic room: «Hullo, everyone! Find anything interesting?»
«Nothing yet, Sir Rudy,» Alex said, squeezing his fingers lightly around Maggie's upper arm. Like she needed the warning?
«What brings you climbing up to the attics, Sir Rudy?» Maggie asked, before Alex could—because she was positive that would have been his next line.
«Me? Oh, nothing. I was just nosing about as head of the household, making sure everything was right and tight, and saw the door open to the stairway. Made me remember the leaks. I'd forgot them, you see. Mrs. Wimbles and the girls usually take charge. We've got the other wing all fixed—cost the earth, roofs—but I had my worries about this wing. So. Why are you all up here?»
«Good question, Sir Rudy. We're investigating,» Evan said, lifting one corner of a dust sheet off a large chest, then dropping it just as quickly. «The murderer hung Sam out that window over there. Did you know that?»
Sir Rudy went up on tiptoe, sort of leaned in the direction of the window. He did not, however, step farther into the room. «That so? Interesting bit of happenstance, wouldn't you say? You see, I've been hacking about in the history of the family, you know, since the last of the brood cocked up her toes a year ago—ninety, they say she was, but she was ninety-five if she was a day—leaving this entire pile open for my purchase. I'll bet she's spinning in her casket out back in the mausoleum, poor old biddy, to think someone in trade is walking these halls now, sleeping in her bed, eating fish and chips off her fancy china. Still, I used to help my Da with the landscaping around here as a boy. Makes me very sentimental about the place, so maybe that's all right with her.»
«I'm convinced the dear lady is resting comfortably knowing that you are restoring her family home to its former glory. Although,» Alex added, «the change of name may ameliorate some of that joy.»
«Yes, well, I'm Sir Rudy now, and it's no wonder I wanted to put my stamp on the place. Besides, Medwine Manor has a certain… ring to it, don't you think? At any rate, it would be a shame to just heartlessly evict them, all those hatchet-faced portraits and such. Thought I'd sort of adopt them, take them as my own, seeing as how all the family I've got is m'brother, Henry, who emigrated to Australia to marry a bassoonist with the Sydney Opera, if you can believe that. Oh, and there's Byrd, of course. He'd gone off with Henry for some months, but that didn't work out, so now I've got him again, right down to his quarterly allowance.»
«You don't sound all that choked up about that, do you, Sir Rudy?» Maggie asked, remembering the not-exactly-warm greeting Byrd had received from his uncle. «You two don't get along?»
«Occasionally we do. Runs hot and cold, my nephew does. Sort of jumped-up, thinking how he'll one day have all my money. Bigger than his britches, as you Americans say. Doesn't even seem to remember I threw him out last time he was here, my heir or no, telling him he'd not be welcome anymore. At least, not until he owned up to the missing silver candlesticks in the dining room.»
«He stole from you?» Maggie asked. «I wouldn't have let him back in, either. Not unless he crawled here from London on his hands and knees. Maybe over broken glass.»
«Yes, yes, thank you, Maggie,» Alex cut in. «We are all aware of your more bloodthirsty inclinations, along with your tendency to believe a punishment should outstrip the crime by at least double.»
«Only when I'm feeling magnanimous,» Maggie corrected. «My favorite is more a three-to-one retribution. I'm not proud of that, but I'm not giving it up, either.»
«As we also all well know. But, if we may be allowed to get back to the point? We seem to have been drifting, haven't we? Sir Rudy, you appeared to be slightly amused to hear that Mr. Undercuffler was hanged in this room. Is there a reason for that?»
Sir Rudy nodded furiously. «Oh, right. Lost my train of thought there for a moment, didn't I? Very well. I've been reading all those dry histories in the study, getting to know my new relatives, as it were. Anyway, I'm certain that this is the very same room where they found Uncle Willis. Our resident ghost, although I've yet to hear him scream or make anything go bump in the night. This was his bedchamber, you understand. Banished, he was, to the attics, for a nasty thing he'd done. At least, that's the story. Hanged himself, too. Odd that, don't you think? I wonder if I'll have two ghosts now? That could be confusing.»