Mr. Longmoore drained his ale and Tuttle signaled the barkeep to bring another. Mr. Longmoore said, “She’s a dashed evil little miss, if you ask me.”
“Iamasking you,” Mr. Tuttle said. “My patron requires specifics, if you please.”
Mr. Longmoore took a long swig of the ale that had just been placed in front of him. “I have a lot to offer, you know. Steady business and all that. She would have been comfortable, is all I say.”
“I see,” Mr. Tuttle said, praying to the Gods that they were finally getting somewhere. “May I infer that you proposed to the lady and were declined?”
The word “declined” seemed to strike Mr. Longmoore as a glove whipped across his cheek.
“Declined?Me? Declined?” Mr. Longmoore said, pounding his fist on the table. “See here, good fellow, Ignatius Longmoore is never declined.”
“No, of course not,” Mr. Tuttle said. “May I ask, then, when is the happy day to take place?”
“Oh, uh, well, as to that…”
Mr. Tuttle sighed. They were back to saying words with no meaning.
“The day, Mr. Longmoore. If you please.”
Tuttle watched with interest as Mr. Longmoore searched his mind for the day. The man finally seemed to find what he was looking for and said, “There will be no day, sir. As it happens, I broke it off. She was all too happy to accept, butIbroke it off.”
“You surprise me, Mr. Longmoore!” Mr. Tuttle said, fairly delighted with this development. “What reason could you have to call off the engagement? It must have been serious, indeed, if the viscount failed to kick up a fuss over the break.”
Mr. Longmoore seemed rather perplexed by that question.
“Come now, Mr. Longmoore,” Mr. Tuttle said. “It must have been terrible indeed. Of course, some things are well known, the lady’s habit of riding in an unseemly manner—”
“She rides to the hunt on a specially-made saddle!” Mr. Longmoore cried. “Everybody knows about that!”
“And the lady has been known to handle a shotgun,” Mr. Tuttle said.
“She shoots birds with it!” Mr. Longmoore exclaimed. “Everybody knows about that.”
“Yes, yes,” Mr. Tuttle said, motioning the barkeep to bring yet another glass of ale. “It seems everybody knows quite a few things about Miss Knightsbridge. What I wonder is, Mr. Longmoore, what is it about the lady that everybody doesnotknow? What terrible thing was revealed that caused you to end the engagement?”
Mr. Longmoore was silent for some minutes and Tuttle had the idea he was thinking hard. “It was very terrible,” he said, “naturally, I could not overlook it.”
“Overlook what?”
Some further minutes passed, Mr. Longmoore gazing over Tuttle’s head as if he admired a far-off vista. Very suddenly, he cried, “She had engaged herself to another! No, two times! There were two other promises made!”
“Good Lord, Mr. Longmoore,” Tuttle said, working hard to display the right amount of shock, “how did you find it out?”
Mr. Longmoore stared hard into his glass of ale, as if he’d been told the bad news via that particular libation. He suddenly looked up. “We all arrived at the Viscount’s estate at the same time. Yes, that is how it happened. We met on the drive leading to the house and when we discovered each other’s business, well, you can imagine!”
“Indeed,” Mr. Tuttle said. “And so, did the other two gentlemen break it off, too?”
“Oh, yes, they certainly did.”
“And may I presume that you informed the lady that relations were at an end at a local assembly, thereby leading to the slap on the face?”
Mr. Longmoore looked as if he would challenge that idea, Tuttle held up his hands. “Dear Mr. Longmoore, there is no use denying that part of the tale—it is too well-known.”
Seeing he would be forced to own the slap, Mr. Longmoore nodded sadly. “She was that put out about it, sir.”
“Excellent, Mr. Longmoore. Now, if you will meet me here on the morrow at two o’clock and sign a sworn statement, that would be most convenient.”
“A sworn statement? Well, I don’t know…”
