Ramsay had told me that Sutcliff had run after Middleton in order to meet him on the road to the village. But this spot was in the opposite direction, south of the lock. What had made Middleton come this way?
The brush was much broken here. I stepped over the bloodstained grass and slipped and slid down to the bank of the canal.
A barge was drifting past the far bank, on its way to Lower Sudbury Lock. The man at the tiller stared at me curiously as I came plunging out of the brush, but lifted his hand in a courteous greeting.
I waved back, but my heart was beating excitedly. No wonder we'd found no signs of the body having been dragged through grass or mud near the Lower Sudbury Lock.
"He was taken to the lock in a boat," I announced to Marianne.
Marianne looked puzzled. "You mean a bargeman obligingly gave a murderer and his corpse a ride to the lock? Or do you think he was murdered by a bargeman himself?"
I climbed back to her. "Not a barge. A rowboat. There are ample places to tie a rowboat at the bank. The man murdered Middleton, tipped the body onto his boat, rowed up the canal, and heaved him into the lock. Then he could row back down to Great Bedwyn, hide the boat, and go about his business, or even portage around the locks so the keepers would not see him. He could be far, far away by now."
Marianne gave me her hand to help me to the top of the bank. "Surely someone would have noticed."
"Not in the middle of the night. It would be dark as pitch along here. Most barges tie up for the night near towns, not out here. This stretch would have been empty, and were it foggy, I doubt that anyone would even see a boat go past. No, he had perfect cover."
Marianne's face was still white. "It is gruesome."
"I know." I wrapped the knife in my handkerchief. "I must take this to the magistrate in Sudbury."
"Which you could do if I hadn't frightened away your horse," she said, looking chagrined.
"If I'd been on horseback, I'd never have found this spot."
I borrowed Marianne's handkerchief, tied it to the closest tree to mark the place, and then we resumed our slow progress up the trail.
"Why would he not take the knife away with him?" she asked as we made our way along. "If he took such trouble to remove the corpse, why not the knife?"
I considered. "Perhaps he was too agitated. Or perhaps he dropped it in the dark and could not find it. But do you see, Marianne, no matter what he did with the knife, that the rowboat is significant?"
"The rowboat you think he used," Marianne corrected me. "Why should it be significant? "
"Because it means that the meeting was planned. They either rowed here together, or they met here. It is unlikely anyone would chance upon each other in this bleak spot in the middle of the night. The boat was brought so that the murderer could get away without leaving a trail."
"I suppose," Marianne said doubtfully.
"Middleton did not meet a man on the road, quarrel with him, and fight to a deadly end. This knife is large-it's a butcher's knife, not a paper knife or a cutting knife that a man might just happen to have in his pocket. Someone fetched it specially. Just as they fetched the rowboat specially. So you see," I finished, "the murder was thought out, not done on the spur of the moment. That means that the idea that it was a continuation of Sebastian's quarrel with Middleton in the stable yard will not wash."
Marianne raised her brows. "You sound certain."
"I am certain. Someone knew Middleton, wanted him dead. Someone he was not afraid to meet in the dark on the side of the canal."
"He was a fool then," Marianne observed.
"He was not afraid. But perhaps, working for James Denis, he'd become confident that he could face any man who challenged him."
Marianne shook her head. "The Romany man could have done it, Lacey. Easy for him to steal a boat and a knife and arrange the meeting."
I disagreed. "Sebastian is big and strong and young. Even Middleton might think twice about confronting him alone in an isolated spot. Besides, they worked in the stables together-why would Middleton agree to meet somewhere else in the middle of the night? No, it was someone who did not want to be seen at the stables, and someone Middleton considered weak." My heart chilled as I spoke the words. "Such as one of the students."
"Or a tutor," Marianne said. "I've seen some of them. They look a bit spindly and colorless."
"Or a tutor," I glumly agreed.
"But would a lad or a spindly tutor have been strong enough to kill him?"
"Possibly, if they took him by surprise. The boat points to a person not as strong as Middleton. That person already knew he could not carry the corpse away, and so provided the boat."
"You are on flights of fancy, Lacey," Marianne said skeptically. "Why not simply slide the body into the canal and have done?"
"To point attention away from the spot, perhaps to incriminate someone else. The lockkeeper, for instance, is a large and strong man. The body is found in the lock-there is the strong lockkeeper living next to it. Probably the constable was supposed to suspect him. But Rutledge muddied things by insisting that Sebastian had committed the crime."
Marianne did not answer, merely kept her head bent, her gaze on the trail. When we at last turned onto the narrow track that passed the lockkeeper's house and led to the stables and the school, Marianne stopped.
I looked at her. "You will come no farther?"
"No, thank you."
She looked so downcast, so worried, that I wanted to pat her shoulder, but I knew she would not accept such a thing. "Grenville will be here soon," I said. "You must decide whether you will let him see you, and what you will tell him. If you wish to speak to me of it, or wish me to help you, send word to me.
"It is not a simple matter, Lacey."
"I see that."
She gave me a belligerent look. "I know you will tell him. You are loyal to him. Why should you be loyal to me?"
"Marianne," I said impatiently. I was much more interested at the moment in getting the knife to the magistrate than in her feud with Grenville. "I am beginning to believe that you and Grenville are a pair of fools. I give you my word I will say nothing to him until you give me leave. But I wish you would confide in him. It would, at the very least, make things more comfortable for me."
Her glance turned ironic. "And certainly I wish nothing more than to make you comfortable." She sighed. "I will send for you-perhaps."
She began to walk away.
"Where do you lodge?" I called after her.
She turned to face me, walking backward a few steps.
"Shan't tell you."
She swung around again, skirts swirling, and tramped on toward the canal.
I found my horse, the sensible beast, in the stable yard. Thomas, the stable hand, was just pulling off the saddle.
"A moment," I said. "I must ride on to Sudbury."
Thomas blinked once, twice, then fastened the saddle back in place without a word. I was in a hurry, but I took the time to ask Thomas about the quarrel he claimed he'd overheard between Middleton and Sebastian.
"It were him," he insisted, when I suggested he'd been mistaken.
"Where were you standing?"
Thomas pointed. At the end of the yard, a door led to a tiny hall and a stone staircase that led to the rooms over the stables. A small window broke the wall above the door. I peered at the dusty pane which overlooked the yard below.
"They stood by the gate," Thomas said, motioning across the yard. "Shouting. Could hear them clear as day."
"It was dark. You could not have seen them clear as day."
Thomas looked impatient. "Mr. Middleton was tall, wann't he? So is Sebastian. The tallest men in the stables. No mistake."