Page 37 of The Locked Room

‘Half an hour?’ Oliver said, evidently taken aback. ‘I’ll do my best but that won’t give us time to disguise ourselves. Are you sure you want Wells to know you’re not a man?’

Harry thought of the speculative look she had seen on the inspector’s face during their last meeting. ‘I think she already knows,’ she said. ‘I’m still dressed as Sarah Smith, but perhaps it might be prudent to ask if we can use the tradesman’s entrance, especially since you won’t be disguised at all.’

Once Oliver had rung off, Harry turned to Beth. ‘It’s too risky to collect our old hats and coats from the dressmaker now. We can stop by for them next week.’ She eyed her fretfully. ‘Do you have everything you need ahead of speaking to Serafina this evening? I can’t help wishing I was coming with you.’

‘She’d clam up like an oyster if you did,’ Beth pointed out. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll be careful.’

Harry gnawed at her lip. ‘I expect that’s what Polly Spender said too.’

Beth shook her head. ‘I’m sharper than Polly and I ain’t mixed up with the same kind of criminals she was. I bet I’ll be home before midnight, never you fear.’

As Harry watched her make for the bus that would carry her towards Camden, she could only pray Beth’s optimism was justified.

If Inspector Wells was in any way surprised to be confronted by Harry dressed as a woman, she did not show it. ‘Good evening, Miss Smith,’ she said crisply, when the police officer stationed at the back door showed her and Oliver into the hallway of number 50 Berkeley Square. ‘Mr Fortescue here tells me you are an associate of Mr Thompson, and come with fresh information regarding this peculiar matter.’

‘I do,’ Harry said, relieved the policewoman seemed disposed to play along, at least for now. ‘But before I reveal anything, Mr Thompson has instructed me to ask one or two questions, the answers to which may have an impact upon the case.’

‘I shall certainly help if I can,’ Inspector Wells said, appraising her judiciously. ‘What would you like to know?’

‘Were you able to interview Mr Evans about his experiences during the renovations?’

‘As a matter of fact, we were. It was all much as your associates said – there were some very strange aspects to the job that made it stand out in his mind. The caretaker was an odd fellow but he let them in each morning. The maid was a nervous little thing. He couldn’t recall her name but thought it might have been Poppy.’

‘Or Polly,’ Oliver put in.

The inspector nodded. ‘Mr Thompson was right about the body too – Mrs Spender confirmed it was her daughter this afternoon.’

Harry bowed her head. She had already known, of course, but the confirmation still created a well of sadness for a mother robbed of her child.

‘Have you managed to locate the caretaker?’ Oliver asked.

‘Not yet,’ Inspector Wells said. ‘I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that he has not returned to his old address.’

‘Indeed not, since he must know that’s the first place you will look for him,’ Oliver said. ‘It’s safe to assume he took a copy of the keys to the house before he left.’

‘That would explain why there was no evidence of a break-in,’ the inspector agreed. ‘Although I confess I still can’t see how the theft was done.’

Harry cleared her throat. ‘Perhaps I can help with that. We know the dining room was in use until midnight on the night of the theft, and the safe was found open just before eight o’clock the following day. I think the thieves entered this house while the family and domestic staff slept, used the tunnel to creep into number 48 and break into the safe, then left the same way they came in.’

‘But how?’ Inspector Wells threw up her hands. ‘How did they access the hidden room?’

Harry smiled. ‘For that, we need to examine the carpets upstairs.’

The other woman narrowed her gaze. ‘The carpets? Whatever for?’

‘Mr Evans reported his men complained of mysteriously creaky floorboards. I suspect the reason for that will soon become clear.’

Oliver was also eyeing her with puzzlement. ‘Then by all means let’s go.’

Despite endeavouring to sound every bit as assured as Holmes when stating her case, Harry felt the sinuous coils of doubt constricting her stomach as they climbed the staircase to the first floor. Could she be mistaken? Was she seeing connections where none existed? Forcing herself to ignore her misgivings, she paused at the top of the stairs and turned to the landing on the left. ‘What’s behind here?’ she asked, pointing to the first door.

‘A music room, I believe,’ Inspector Wells said.

Harry closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the dining room below, with its ruined false wall. She progressed along the landing to a second door. ‘And this?’

‘Mr Anderson’s study.’

‘I think that may be the one,’ Harry said and, before she could lose confidence, she pushed the door back.