Miss Jenson did not dispute it, though neither did she look delighted.
Miss Mortimer beamed. “Until tea, then. Goodbye!”
Chapter Five
“Icould almostimagine I’d met the queen,” Solomon murmured, “only a couple of decades into the future.”
“I wonder what she wants with us? Keeping her eye on her kingdom, I suppose.”
“Or she knows something she wishes to impart.”
“That will be interesting. What shall we buy at the Keatons’ shop?”
“Anything you like,” Solomon replied when he had opened the door, for the shop was positively stuffed with goods, from newspapers to bedsheets, children’s sweets to sides of ham hanging at the back. Constance particularly noticed a shelf full of notepaper and envelopes.
The shop seemed to go on for miles, with little space between the packed shelves to move around. Constance could see no other customers but became aware of a woman in an apron waving from behind a crowded counter of cakes and sweets.
“Good day!” the woman said amiably. “Can I help you?”
“I’m certain you can,” Solomon said, gazing around him. “Is there anything youdon’tsell?”
“Fresh meat,” the woman said at once. “But the ham is very popular.”
“It does look good,” Constance said.
“I expect you’ll have it for breakfast at the Blue Goose.”
“Mrs. Keaton?” Solomon said, removing his hat.
“Indeed!” The woman squeezed out from behind the counter. “Come through to the back…”
The back did not mean beneath the hanging ham, but through a half-hidden door at the side, where a middle-aged man was discovered seated at a table, munching a sandwich. He half rose in alarm as they invaded his territory.
“Ralph, my husband,” Mrs. Keaton said, almost apologetically.
Solomon offered his hand. “Solomon Grey. And my partner, Mrs. Silver. I believe Dr. Chadwick has mentioned why we are here.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Keaton twittered, “though it’s a difficult situation and I’m not quite sure… Impossible to know what’s best.”
“I don’t think that can be decided until we know the facts,” Solomon said, while he and Constance squashed in around the table with their hosts.
Constance felt the urge to laugh as her wide skirts enfolded Solomon’s legs as well as the table’s. “Dr. Chadwick said you had destroyed the anonymous letter you received.”
“Despicable thing,” Mr. Keaton said, shoving his empty plate toward his wife. “I don’t know what the world is coming to. Nor do I know—meaning no offense, Mr. Grey—why Chadwick had to go stirring things up by calling in strangers to investigate.”
“I believe he hopes to stop it happening again,” Constance said. “I take it you have received just the one such letter?”
“And one is more than enough,” Mrs. Keaton said with a theatrical shudder.
“What exactly did the letter say, ma’am?” Constance asked.
Mrs. Keaton flapped her hands. “Oh, I don’t remember exactly.”
“Itsaid,” Mr. Keaton pronounced, glaring, “that bearing false witness led to the ruin of the accuser and we should repent. As if we don’t go to church like decent Christian folk!”
“Then the letter was definitely accusing you?” Solomon said. “What was it referring to?”
The husband and wife were carefully avoiding each other’s gazes while a moment’s uncomfortable silence passed.
