“It ain’t been tampered with?” Cobb said,hopes rising.
Constance stuck out her long-nailed, rightforefinger and casually flicked open the door. “It’s been unlocked.By someone with a key.”
“Why didn’t they lock it back up?”
She stared at him as if he were witless. “Andwhy would he bother? We were bound to find it empty, weren’twe?”
“I see yer point.”
“We never find less than five dollars inthere. And as you can see for yourself, there isn’t a farthingleft. Money intended for widows and orphans!”
Cobb felt the lash of this latter remark asif he had somehow colluded in the outrage. “So I guess he took thedollar I planted in there.”
“That would be a reasonable conclusion,wouldn’t it?”
“Were these front doors locked?”
“Quentin’s been doing that since Mr. Epp . .. left us. And my husband never shirks a duty, however menial.”
“So the robber got in here through thevicarage an’ the walkway?”
“Another unassailable deduction.”
“Which means this is an inside job,” Cobbsaid. “Now I gotta talk with yer maids, Mrs. Hungerford. Youdo see that, don’t you?”
She was suddenly all sweetness and light.“Certainly. But I hope you are not about to overlook the ReverendChalmers. After all, my servants share the rear quarters with him.My own family never enter that area after the church is closed upat nine o’clock – unless invited. So we are down to three suspects,are we not?”
“Looks that way,” Cobb said glumly.
He trailed the vicar’s wife through thevestry and the covered walkway into the hall at the rear of thevicarage, trying not to step on her voluminous, rustlingskirts.
“Myrtle and Missy are occupied in my chambersat the moment,” she said as they drew to a halt. “They share thesetwo rooms. Whilst they are busy elsewhere, why not take thisopportunity to search for the stolen money?” she said, and pushedopen the door in front of her. When Cobb hesitated, she added, “Youdo intend to search these premises thoroughly?”
“Well, I thought I oughta talk to theladies first.”
Constance glared at him, and he could feelhis nose reddening. “If one of my servants were involved – and Ihave no doubt that they were not – then the only place theycould ‘stash the loot,’ as our crass newspapers would say, is hereamong their meagre possessions. I’ll stand in the doorway while youdo your duty.”
“If that’s what you want,” Cobb said,grinding his teeth.
“And don’t go disturbing their effects!”
Cobb went into the maids’ suite. He foundhimself standing in a small sitting-room just big enough for twopadded chairs, a tattered carpet, a pot-bellied stove, and acommode. Gingham curtains on a narrow window and crocheted doilieson the arms of the chairs were the only signs of a feminine touch.Among the combs, scissors and bric-à-brac he found no coinsor banknotes of any kind. For form’s sake he peered into thecupboard beneath and tipped the chamber pot up into the light. Witha sigh – and Constance Hungerford’s stare still upon him – he easedback a curtain and entered the bedroom.
The two women shared one bed. Most of therest of the room was taken up by a bulky “highboy,” with six deepdrawers, and a clothes-rack upon which were draped a half-dozenfrocks, uniforms and related items of apparel. Cobb sighed, andwent to work. Ten minutes later – after scrabbling through bins offrilly, lacy, frothy garments (with calloused hands and eyessqueezed shut) and patting down several silky, slippery dressesthat might as well have been occupied by their owners – Cobbemerged to say, “As you thought, ma’am: nothin’.”
“That leaves only one other place, doesn’tit?” Constance said with only a modest attempt to modulate herglee.
“You want me to search a minister’s rooms?”Cobb said, aghast.
“I do. Mr. Chalmers is not there. Ichecked.”
Cobb couldn’t see any other option, short ofa court-martial, so he lumbered down to Chalmers’ suite at the endof the hall, next to the rear entrance and across from the coveredwalkway to the church. He knocked discreetly.
“He’s not there, Cobb. And none of theseinside doors can be locked.”
Cobb opened Chalmers’ door slowly.
“For Heaven’s sake, man, go on! The HolyGhost’s not in there!”
Cobb went in. All was quiet. No Chalmers, noghosts. Still, Cobb felt vaguely disrespectful as he pawed throughthe drawers of the vicar’s desk. In the top drawer he found acompact, leather-bound, gilt-trimmed Bible. He felt like athief himself, and a sneak-thief at that, as he riffled its pages.On the fly-leaf he noted the inscription: “To David Chalmers, maeye fare well in the sight of the Lord, from Rev. J. Strachan,Cornwall, U.C., 1811.” He dropped the book-prize. Beside it, whereit fell, lay a silver locket, sprung open. It contained theminiature portrait of a young woman with ringlets and eyes as greenas her brother’s. The crippled sister in Windsor, Cobb thought witha guilty shudder, the one referred to in Marc’s notes. He eased thetop drawer closed and slid open the one below it.
In it he spotted a small calfskin purse, itsdrawstrings well tightened. He picked it out and dropped it on thedesktop. It clanked. Cobb’s breathing quickened. He poured thecontents out: a variety of English and American coins, and a singledollar bill.
“That’s the one, isn’t it?” Constance stoodin the doorway, her eyes as round as communion wafers.
***
Cobb and Constance were sitting in the senior vicar’sstudy. They were alone.
“I fail to see how there can be any otherexplanation,” Constance was saying. “The Poor Box was locked andfull last night. This morning the box is found unlocked and themoney removed. Myrtle assures me that the back door was locked andbarred at ten o’clock, after which she and Missy went to sleep, andheard nothing till morning. The Halifax dollar you planted in thebox is found in the Reverend Chalmers’ desk-drawer, with the restof the cash. Mr. Chalmers has a key for the Poor Box.”
“I agree, ma’am, that it looks bad. But keysare an easy thing to get copied. A good robber’s even got skeletonkeys that’ll get him into pert near anythin’.”
“So you are telling me that some thief cameinto the church, robbed the Poor Box, slipped back in here throughthe walkway and, because he’s a good Christian, deposited his bootyin Mr. Chalmers’ desk-drawer?”
“No need to get scar-castic,ma’am.”
At this point in the lop-sided exchange ofviews, Myrtle Welsh appeared in the doorway, broom in hand. “Oh,I’m sorry – ”
“No, no, Myrtle, do come in.”
Myrtle took one cautious step inside.
“Did the Reverend Chalmers happen to tell youwhen he would be back this morning?” Constance said to hersweetly.
Myrtle looked surprised. “But haven’t youheard, ma’am?”
“Heard what?”
Myrtle trembled slightly, but replied, “Theyoung reverend left right after the morning service yesterday.”
“Left?” The word was spat out.
“He got a message that his older brother wastook sick out in Streetsville. Reverend Hungerford told him to gothere straight away. So he took the roan mare an’ rode off. Weexpect him back this afternoon.”
“And why was I not informed of thisunorthodox arrangement?”
Myrtle blinked. “But you was visitin’ youraunt all day. You hadn’t come home by the time Missy an’ me went tobed.”
Constance’s bosom heaved alarmingly, like aDiva’s before a death-aria. Her face went as purple as herhusband’s vestments.
“D-d-didn’t the reverend himself tell you,ma’am?”
“He did not!”
And the senior vicar would no doubt regretthe oversight, even though he too had been abed when his wife hadarrived home from a day in the country and rousted the stableboyout of a deep sleep.