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“Yes.”
“Well, then, I suppose we’ll see about that,” he said. It was a threat. A chill ran up her spine. She stared back at him, refusing to show her fear. He left the room, slamming the door after him.
Arabella looked over at her mother. “I’ve never seen him this angry before,” she said, then went back to her needlepoint.
“Mother, you cannot make him force me to marry,” Arabella said.
“I don’t know that I can convince him otherwise,” her mother replied. “It would be best if you spoke to him yourself. Try to make him see your point of view.”
* * *
Constable Mills returned to the office with Charles and Arthur. He examined the picked locks, the rifled office, and then sat down with the both of them out in the waiting room.
Charles had sent their clerk with a brief note to Lord Dunsmore saying that he was needed, urgently.
“You say that it was like this when you arrived, Mr. Conolly,” Constable Mills said.
“Yes. I arrived only a few moments before Mr. Hinkley did,” Charles explained.
“So, then you have no one to say that you arrived early and did this yourself, then?”
“That’s a very odd supposition, Constable,” Charles said, wondering if he should have sent for Alistair, as well.
“It certainly doesn’t account for your book being lost, either,” the constable replied.
“I feel that I’m being set up,” Charles told him. “I wanted to make a report, so that when it does show up, then it’s not used against me.”
“You know what I think?” the constable asked.
“What’s that?” Charles asked.
“I think you dropped it at the scene of a murder,” the constable replied, his eyes sparkling with menace. “And I think you’re trying to get out ahead of it.”
“That’s rather uncalled for, Constable,” Arthur snapped.
“Well, it does appear that Mr. Conolly has a few things that he’s hiding, don’t you, Mr. Conolly?”
“I have nothing to hide,” Charles said.
“So then you admit that you worked with all three of the victims so far?”
“I do,” Charles said. “I did. I liked them all very much, and I’m upset that they are dead. I wouldn’t have wished that on anyone, Constable.”
The Constable stared Charles down. “You’re a slippery fish, Mr. Conolly.”
“On the contrary, I’ve been rather forthcoming,” Charles said. “You’re the one who is looking for someone to put all the blame on. Turns out, you’re not the only one. The Murderer is trying to do it, as well.”
Just then, Lord Dunsmore entered.
“My Lord!” the constable said. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to Mr. Conolly for some help,” Lord Dunsmore replied casually. “What are you here for, Constable?”
“I’m—there was a break in,” the Constable replied, clearly dismayed by the sudden appearance of the private detective.
“A break in!” Lord Dunsmore gasped. “How horrible!”
“You’re not here on a case, are you?” Constable Mills asked, suspiciously.
“Dear me, no. Has anything been taken, though? Perhaps I should offer you my services, Mr. Conolly.”
“I’m on it, My Lord,” Constable Mills said, standing up. “I’ll be in touch, Mr. Conolly. I’ll have this report filed forthwith.”
“Thank you, Constable,” Charles said. They all watched the constable leave. Once the door had closed after him, Lord Dunsmore breathed a sigh of relief.
“Nothing angers the constabulary more than my intervention,” he commented. “Now. Let’s have a less biased look at the scene, shall we?”
