I wiggled under the Daimler, careful to lean only on my good elbow, and reached for the torch.There was no oil leak here, anyway.Then, once I had it in my hand, I got to my feet, carefully, with the help of my functioning arm while I kept the other tightly clutched to my chest.
With the mystery intruder out of the way, it was an easy job to navigate around to each of the motorcars to peer underneath them for any signs of an oil slick.The Marsdens’ Daimler was clean, as mentioned, and so was Constance’s Crossley.I hadn’t really suspected otherwise.Francis would have checked the Crossley for problems both before and after the trip to Upper Slaughter, and if any of the Marsdens were guilty, it was probably Laetitia, who was as likely—perhaps more likely—to borrow Crispin’s H6 as her parents’ Daimler.
The Hispano-Suiza or the Rolls Royce, then.I bent to peer under the Phantom.The ground was pristine, of course.The Phantom was practically brand new, only in the possession of His Grace since August, and hardly used since then.There was no reason to think it would have developed a leak so soon.
It was with a feeling of inevitability that I directed the light from the broken torch under the rear of the Hispano-Suiza.I wasn’t even surprised when I saw the light reflected in the sticky black puddle that was slowly sinking into the dirt floor.
The second shockof the night—or perhaps it was the third or even fourth by now—was when I opened the garage door to the outside and found myself face to face with another tall, dark silhouette.
Or it might have been the same one, for all I knew.
I stumbled back, and then squealed when the figure shot out a hand and grabbed my arm to keep me upright.
It was the bad arm, of course.I let out a very unladylike expletive, and Crispin sighed.“I knew that was you.”
“Whatever do you mean?”I wanted to know, offended, as I cradled the arm against my chest again.
“Who else would be sneaking about the crime scene in the middle of the night?”He glanced beyond me into the darkness of the carriage house before turning his attention back to me.“What’s wrong with your arm?”
“Someone threw something at it,” I said.
His eyebrow twitched.“What, pray tell?Or should that be whom?”
“It should be who, but the answer is that it was a bicycle pump.I suppose the wrench wasn’t available anymore.”
He sighed.“You’re not making any sense, Darling.What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I said.
“I heard the door slam,” Crispin said, with a glance at it.“If you’re sneaking around, Darling, you should be more circumspect.I’m surprised the entire house didn’t hear you.”
“It wasn’t me slamming the door, you git.It was whoever hit me with the bicycle pump.”
“Whomever,” Crispin corrected, not without a smirk.
I rolled my eyes.“You want me to believe that you heard the door—from the other side of the house, no less—and you decided to come out and see what was going on?”
“Fine,” Crispin said.“I was in my sitting room earlier, having a night cap and thinking about things, and I saw you come out of the boot room and tiptoe across the courtyard.I didn’t get down here until now because, unlike you, I decided to get dressed before I ventured out.”
He gave my pyjamas and dressing gown a halfhearted sneer.
I returned the favor.He had taken the time to dress head to toe in tweed, with plus-fours, socks and shoes, shirt and waistcoat, and even a tie.The only thing missing was the hat, and he probably regretted leaving it off, as the mizzle beaded on his hair.Mine was turning curlier by the second.
“Are you certain you weren’t on your way somewhere?”I inquired suspiciously.“That’s a lot of clothes to put on just to follow me to the garage.”
“I’m positive, Darling.I could have put the evening kit back on, I suppose—it was handy—but it didn’t seem like quite the thing for the occasion.”
No, for him to traipse down here in full black tie would have been even stranger than this.
“I suppose Laetitia would have had something to say about it, had you come to my rescue in your jim-jams,” I said maliciously.
His voice didn’t change.“Let’s keep Laetitia out of this, if you don’t mind.You still haven’t told me what possessed you to leave your room and venture out to the carriage house in the middle of the night.Secret assignation?”
I snorted.“Hardly.There’s no one here for me to assign with.And it’s not the place I would choose, is it?”
“So why?—?”
“I wanted to see whether any of the motorcars leaked,” I said.“You were there when Tom talked about the oil slick behind the infirmary.I thought, if one of the cars here was leaking, at least it would exonerate Aunt Roz and Uncle Herbert.”
