“Or if someone did come down the hall anddecide to join him, he could have fetched a second glass in thirtyseconds,” Macaulay pointed out. “Or fetched two glasses if he’dbeen drinking his whiskey straight out of the flask.”
“What was drunk from those goblets wassherry,” Marc said. “We need to trace the possible source of thatbottle.”
“Do you keep Amount-i-ladle in yerwine cellar?” Cobb asked Macaulay.
“I noticed the label on the bottle when Ifirst arrived here this morning and was checking the body for signsof life — I didn’t touch anything, just looked — and I can say forcertain that the poisoned wine did not come from my cellar.”
Marc sighed. “That’s unfortunate. We hadhoped that Chilton — who, along with you, would have had the onlykeys to the cellar — had obtained the Amontillado there himself,and that he either did himself in or his visitor distracted himlong enough to pour laudanum into the sherry.”
“Maybe this visitor called fer anothergoblet, an’ when the obligin’ butler went off to fetch it, thebugger doctored the wine.”
“Very plausible,” Marc said. It was apossibility he himself had not considered. “Nevertheless, we nowface the unhappy prospect of discovering who took the laudanum fromthe bathroom shelf and how the Amontillado got into Elmgrove andended up in Chilton’s office.”
“If Chilton was a secret tippler,” Cobb said,“he could’ve brung the sherry here with him. Could’ve been apartin’ gift from his old master.”
“Right now, that’s the most likelyexplanation. But we’ll need to ask everyone concerned aboutit.”
“We gonna ram-sack the rooms lookin’fer the missin’ medicine bottle an’ a jug of sherry like the one wefound beside Chilton?”
Macaulay flinched. “We can’t do that, sir! Myguests are gentlemen!”
“What we’ll do,” Marc said, “is ask thegentlemen themselves to look carefully in their own rooms to see ifthe empty vial has been illicitly stashed there. Surely a cold,calculating killer, which we have here, would not be souncalculating as to hide such damning evidence in his ownquarters.”
“Yes, yes, that’s the proper way to go aboutit,” Macaulay said gratefully.
“Thank you, Garnet,” Marc said, rising.“You’ve been very helpful and a pillar of strength in the midst ofthis sudden upheaval. Would you mind going into the nearby roomsand informing the others that I would like to begin interviewingthem individually in about fifteen minutes. They’ll no doubt beanxious and inquisitive. Please tell them only the essential facts: that the butler is dead, probably murdered, and that for the timebeing all normal activities are suspended. As I meet with them — here, if that’s convenient — I’ll add such information as I deemadvisable.”
“I’ll go right away. What are you going to doin the interim?”
“Have a close look at Graves Chilton’srooms.”
Elmgrove’s butler had been given two rooms for hispersonal use. Marc and Cobb entered the small sitting-room first,furnished simply and illuminated by a narrow window overlooking theeast lawn, now snow-covered. While Cobb turned over cushions andhunched down awkwardly to peer under the couch, Marc went to thesecretary, rolled up the cover, and began poking about among thepapers inside.
“What’ve ya got, Major?”
“Not much, but it may be significant. There’sa passenger’s receipt for a steamship ticket from Bristol to NewYork — in the name of Graves Chilton. Dated last month.”
“Looks like our victim did arrive here whenhe said he did.”
“It would seem so. And here’s a receipt fromThe Albany Hotel in New York City, where Chilton told Macaulay he’dbeen laid up for a week with the after-effects of mal demer.”
“That don’t leave much time fer him to getoverland to Kingston an’ be recruited fer any new-furiousactivities at Elmgrove, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t. The man’s troubles must havestarted and ended right here in this house.”
“Let’s try the other room. There’s no whiskeyjugs or medicine bottles hidden in this one.”
They went into the bedroom. It was cold, darkand windowless. Cobb went back out, found a candle andlighting-kit, and returned. But an initial search of the placeturned up no hard evidence. However, in the wardrobe beside thebed, Marc found a leather grip and pulled it out.
Cobb opened it. “Empty,” he said. “But lookhere. The fella’s initials are set in brass near the handle. Hemust’ve carted his belongin’s two thousand miles in thisthing.”
Marc was re-examining the frock coats andtrousers in the wardrobe. “Every one of these has the label of aLondon tailor. Mr. Chilton seems to have done very well forhimself, before his fall from grace.”
“Say, what’s that that fell outta one of themcoat pockets?” Cobb said, pointing to a piece of paper at the footof the wardrobe.
Marc picked it up. “It’s a letter of sorts.It must have been stuffed in the lining — I didn’t see it atfirst.”
“What’s it say?”
Marc read aloud:
Bellingham House
21st inst.
Gravsie:
I hope the kis we had in the ironing
cubbord last nigt ment as much to you as
it did to me. I must see you agen or myhart
wil brake
yore lover
Gertie
“Sounds like he hung onto one of thembilly-douches from some silly maid of his,” Cobb opined.
Marc smiled, but found himself oddly touchedby the letter and its sentiments. “One of his many conquests backhome, I suppose. Macaulay was told that Chilton had a weakness forthe weaker sex.”
“Well,” Cobb summed up their effort, “we gotourselves a bone-a-fido English butler, but no medicinebottle an’ no fancy booze.”
“Perhaps the poor devil carried that flask ofwhiskey around with him in order to face the temptation of thedrink every day. Alcohol can be a devastating addiction.”
“I guess we gotta figure the poison wasbrought inta his office by the killer, an’ probably the sherry,too.”
“It’s not much, but with Garnet’s clearaccount of the late-evening events and whereabouts of the guestsand staff, and from what we’ve deduced about the possible sequenceof actions in the butler’s office, we now have a solid base fromwhich to ask questions of our suspects.”
Cobb grinned. “You like to take yer timeabout interrogatin’, don’t ya?”
“Never begin until you know all you can — ”
“In advance of yer questionin’,” Cobbfinished up with a chuckle.
“So, let’s get to it,” his mentor said.
As they stepped out into the rotunda and turnedtowards the front of the house, they heard the door to theservants’ wing open. Priscilla Finch came trotting past thembalancing a tray of buns and tarts.
“Miss Finch,” Marc said to her, “could wehave a word, please?”
Priscilla looked as if a word with thepolicemen or any other male was the last thing she wished, but shestopped at the entrance to the dining-room, drew her tray up to herchest, and waited, dutifully. Her eyes were red and swollen fromcrying, and made a vivid contrast with the washed-out white of herface. All her prettiness had vanished. Obviously the shock offinding the butler dead and cold in his office had deeply affectedher.
“I know you’ve had a terrible shock, miss,”Marc said as Cobb gallantly took the tray off her hands (and palmeda tart as he did so). “But I really do need to know something thatyou may be able to help me with.”
“I–I’ll try my best, sir,” she stammered,unable to control the trembling of her lower lip.
“Mr. Macaulay asked you and Bragg to preparethe bathroom for possible use later last evening, did he not?”
“Yessir,” she said warily. “We try to bea-bed or in our quarters before nine-thirty if possible, as we’reoften up a five-thirty or six in the mornin’.”
“Bragg would have made sure the boiler wasfull of hot water and you, I presume, would bring up a fresh supplyof towels and soaps?”