The light was on in Aunt Charlotte’s room, too, but Uncle Harold’s was dark. And then, as I turned the corner, I saw what looked like a party down at the other end of the corridor.
That’s a slight exaggeration, of course. But Christopher was there, leaning against the wall next to his own open door, and Tom Gardiner was there, and Francis, as well as Crispin, who looked a bit rough, with his cheeks pink, his hair mussed, and his eyes dilated. Given the list of his conquests currently in my hand, I wondered who he had found to run her fingers through his hair here at Sutherland Hall.
As I moved closer to them, Christopher straightened from his slouch against the wall and unfolded the arms that had been crossed over his chest. Crispin looked me up and down, from the toes of my slippers over the silk of my pyjamas up to my head and back, and his mouth twisted. Francis giggled, his pupils like pinpricks in his pale face, and Tom’s eyes went immediately to the envelope in my hand before he looked at my face, while somehow managing to circumvent entirely the pyjamas that were the first and last thing Crispin had noticed.
“Passing love notes, Darling?” the latter sneered when I extended the envelope to Tom, who took it with what I can only describe as a look of delight on his face.
“Is this—?”
I nodded.
“Where did you find it?”
“Bottom of my weekender bag,” I said, since, if Crispin was the one who had put the sheets there, he already knew that, anyway.
Tom tilted his head consideringly. “And is it—?”
“All three of us,” I confirmed. “There isn’t much there, though.” Or not much that would be of help to Scotland Yard, at least not if I were any judge.
“What is it?” Francis wanted to know, and Tom turned to him with a pleasant smile.
“Just an account of movements that Miss Darling promised to write down for me.”
He turned the smile on me, as blandly as you please. “Thank you. I’ll make sure Inspector Pendennis gets it.”
“No problem at all,” I told him, equally politely, and looked around. “What are the four of you doing, standing around in the hallway at this time of night? Plotting murder and mayhem?”
“I was just on my way in,” Christopher said, “when Francis and Crispin came up the stairs.”
And they had stopped for a chat, I assumed. No mention was made of Tom, but it seemed he must have walked Christopher to his door, to be caught there along with the other three.
“Well, I just wanted to hand off the account of my movements,” I said. “I should—”
“How did you know Detective Sergeant Gardiner was going to be here?” Crispin wanted to know. Clearly, being inebriated did nothing to impair his cognitive ability, even if his delivery wasn’t quite as sharply edged as usual.
Because, of course, I hadn’t known that Tom would be here. I had assumed that Tom would have gone back downstairs to join his colleagues, not be standing in the hallway outside Christopher’s room.
“Lucky guess?” I ventured. And since I didn’t feel like explaining it in any more detail, I added, “I’m going back to my room. Good night, gentlemen.”
“I’ll walk you,” Tom said, with a nod at Christopher. “I’ll be staying across the hall from you anyway.”
“How perfectly lovely for you both,” Crispin drawled.
I rolled my eyes. “Mind your own, St George. Considering the string of broken hearts you’ve left in your wake, you really have no cause to comment on anyone else’s love life.”
Not that there was anything like a love life between me and Tom Gardiner. But Crispin didn’t need to know that.
And anyway, it was the wrong thing to say, because the corners of his mouth turned up in a malicious smirk. “Is that jealousy I hear, Darling?”
“You wish,” I said and turned on my heel. “Good night, Christopher, Francis. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Sleep well, Darling,” Crispin’s voice said behind me, oozing… something. “Sweet dreams.”
I didn’t dignify the comment with a response, just shot Tom Gardiner a look of mingled frustration and frustrated violence when he came up on the side of me and we continued up the hallway together.
FIFTEEN
I wasn’table to share the details of my find with Christopher until the next morning after breakfast. I couldn’t go back to the east wing after Tom walked me to my door, just in case Crispin lay in wait, ready to pounce as soon as I showed my face again. He clearly suspected that the envelope I had handed over to Tom didn’t hold what I had claimed it held.
