Herbert had only some months before been released from forced labor after being convicted of stealing hot buns from a shop. He had not been in any further trouble with the courts and was regular in leaving each afternoon for an apprenticeship of some sort. Little of his personal life is known, though he was said to have been seen at a tavern with tenant Janet King, and an argument a week prior had occurred between Herbert and tenant Merle Rider over noise.
On the day of the discovery, the landlady, Mrs. Alice Trembly, was informed by tenant Matthew Hillsbury that a red substance suspected to be blood was dripping through his rafters. Hillsbury lives directly below Herbert’s garret. The constable was fetched soon after.
The list of tenants in the building were:
Occupying the garret: John Herbert.
Occupying the upper floor: Janet King, unknown age, heavy with child, no husband known of, claims John Herbert was a friend and appears distraught. Merle Rider, 34, butcher, with his wife Jemmy, 32, and two children under age 10. Rider is a burly man and known in the neighborhood as a hot temper when he drinks. Matthew Hillsbury, 29, hackney driver, bachelor, cleft lip, speaks with a lisp and is known to talk to horses more often than people.
Occupying the ground floor: Alice Trembly, 63, landlady, widow, rheumatism infirmity assisted by the use of a cane.
John Herbert was found slumped in a chair at a table facing the window. These various things were upon the table: a receipt for forward payment of rent for three months, a cheap silver-painted pendant of unknown origin with the initial J engraved, the key to the door, and a broken watch. The room was in disarray, there were three circular stains presumed to be dried blood on the floor, and a larger pool of blood beneath Herbert’s chair that had subsequently leaked through the floorboards and into Hillsbury’s room. No weapon was found.
When the constable arrived, he, with the assistance of Hillsbury, broke down the door, as no spare key was on hand. The landlady, upon leading them up to the garret, had explained that Herbert had taken the spare key a week ago, having lost his own, and had not yet made a copy.
Who killed John Herbert? How did they do it? And WHY did they do it?
Georgiana studied the facts as the white soup was brought round. It was unusual, awkward even, to attempt to eat soup while reading, but there it was.
“I am afraid this may well have been a crime of passion,” Lord Bertridge said. “Whilewemay not comprehend such things, I understand the lower classes are prone to fits of that unwelcome state. An unwed mother lives in the building? Her given name starts with aJ and there is a pendant with aJ engraved? I suspect he ruined her and made an attempt to buy her off with the pendant that was found on the table and she stabbed him in a fury. Do you see what I say?”
Whether Lady Annabelle understood what Lord Bertridge said, Georgiana could not guess. The lady was far too busy fanning herself and looking overcome while staring determinedly at Lord Langley to discover if he would notice.
“If it were Janet King and a fit of passion, as you speculate,” Lord Langley said, “how did she do it?”
Lord Bertridge shrugged.
“I do not believe it to be her,” Georgiana said. “It was noted that John Herbert was only released some months ago. Certainly, that would hint a shorter time than would be necessary for the lady to be heavily pregnant. And, if she were trying to hide her actions, she would not have claimed John Herbert as a friend. She would claim him only a distant acquaintance.”
“Honestly,” Lady Annabelle said, “while I enjoy Lord Ryland’s balls exceedingly, I could do without this tawdry tale. I ought to visit the retiring room, I am sure my hair is a fright.”
Lord Bertridge said something consoling about the lady’s delicate sensibilities and her hair. Georgiana had no idea how a piece of paper would have done anything to the lady’s hair but wished shewouldvisit the retiring room. And stay there.
She went back to studying the facts.
“I suspect,” Lord Langley said, “that the solution revolves around the missing key. John Herbert lost his key and had to take the spare. The murderer may have stolen the key and then used it to enter the room and then lock it again when he left.”
Though Lord Langley’s supposition had a deal more merit than Lord Bertridge’s had, there was still something not quite right.
“John Herbert was sitting at his table facing the window,” she said. “It was August, it would have been stifling hot in that garret and yet the window was closed. Surely, he had just entered the room. I think he was followed in and he was not worried about whoever it was.”
“Janet King,” Lord Bertridge said, as if this entirely proved his theory.
“But if so,” Lord Langley said, “how does that person lock the door behind him when he left, if he did not have the key?”
“I’m not sure,” Georgiana said, “though another thought occurs to me. How does an apprentice pay his rent for three months ahead of time?”
“He doesn’t,” Lord Langley said.
“And yet he did,” Georgiana said.
Georgiana wondered if that were not the real crux of the matter. John Herbert had got a sizable amount of money from somewhere and at least one person would have known that he’d got it—the landlady.
But the landlady was infirm and used a cane. Further, she’d been well-paid, there was no reason she would wish to kill a tenant who paid ahead of time.
Unless he had something of far more value to take then three months’ rent.
If that were so, might she have told somebody else of it? An accomplice? Or might she not be as infirm as she claimed? After all, she’d led the constable up all those stairs to the garret. And why did John Herbert have that pendant? It was described as cheap. Who was it for? Who was J? Was it for Janet King, after all? Or was it something entirely unrelated?
