“Yes, mum,” murmured Mrs. Graycott, and left.
Charlotte waited another minute, then slipped down the way she’d come. She found Mrs. Graycott in the basement, giving directions to a maid.
“You offer the supper plate to the mistress and the tea tray to Mrs. Cousins. And then you leave straight away. You don’t look at anyone or anything, you understand?”
“Yes, Mrs. Graycott.”
“Good girl. Now go.” She turned around and saw Charlotte. “Ah, Miss Holmes. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see Mrs. Treadles.”
“That’s all right. I will see her tomorrow. In the meanwhile”—she glanced toward the servants’ hall, where the staff was having their supper—“may I speak to the staff? It’s all part of the investigation Mrs. Treadles has asked my brother to conduct.”
Mrs. Graycott hesitated a moment. “Yes, of course. Do please come in and have a seat. Let me get you a cup of tea.”
The servants numbered six in total: Mrs. Graycott, two housemaids, the cook, a kitchen maid, and a man who served as both groom and coachman.
Mrs. Graycott confirmed the time of Sergeant MacDonald’s arrival in the morning. “He was here for twenty, twenty-five minutes. The missus didn’t look herself when he left, but she didn’t tell us anything. She went out, taking the carriage, and the rest of us carried on with our duties. It wasn’t until that Sergeant Howe showed up with a constable in the afternoon to question us that we first learned anything was amiss.”
It made sense that Inspector Brighton would have first sent a lieutenant or two to the Treadleses’ household, if he himself couldn’t be spared right away.
“What did Sergeant Howe tell you?”
“That Inspector Treadles’s recent movements are of interest to the police and that we should inform them of everything we knew. We didn’t know much of the inspector’s movements. Mrs. Treadles uses the coach to get about, but the inspector always prefers to go on foot. Once he leaves the house in the morning, we don’t see him again until he returns from work in the evening.”
“I understand he went out of town recently.”
“Yes, but that’s also not unusual.”
“Was there anything unusual in his comings and goings recently?”
The question was for Mrs. Graycott but Charlotte looked at everyone in the servants’ hall. They all shook their heads.
“Did the police ask about Mrs. Treadles’s movements?”
They had, but only in passing, except to Cockerill the coachman, asking him in detail about the night before. But Cockerill saw little. Apparently there had been complaints on the part of Cold Street residents about guests at other parties blocking the lane with their carriages. He had been directed by Longstead’s staff to park his vehicle several streets over, where older structures had been torn down to make room for new row houses. As a result, he’d been on Cold Street only to deposit his mistress and then to collect her again, but not at any point in between.
“What else did the police ask?” Charlotte’s question was for the entire room.
No one spoke. After a while, Mrs. Graycott said, “They asked how the master and the mistress got along. Of course they get along. They are devoted to each other.”
“Of course,” Charlotte echoed. “Did they ask to see the house or any specific parts of the house?”
“They did ask to see the house but I said I must first have permission from either Inspector or Mrs. Treadles. They left then, but right after Mrs. Treadles came back, Sergeant Howe returned with Inspector Brighton and they did look over the house before sitting down to have tea with the missus.”
“And that would have been shortly before my arrival?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Do you know whether they found anything worth remarking on in the house?”
Everyone shook their heads.
A bell rang, probably Mrs. Cousins, wanting the dinner tray taken back down.
Mrs. Graycott dispatched the girl who’d carried it up.
Charlotte rose. “I will leave you all to your supper now.”
As she expected, Mrs. Graycott came with her. “I’ll see you out, Miss Holmes.”
At the service door, where they were out of earshot of the other servants, Charlotte said, “No need to tell Mrs. Treadles tonight that I’ve called—let her rest. But you can tell her tomorrow morning, if you’d like.”
“Yes, miss.”
“I also have a question or two for you, Mrs. Graycott. Do you know if the inspector took his service revolver with him on his latest trip?”
“I don’t, miss. He wasn’t to the manor born, the inspector, and he still prefers to do his own packing. Neat as a pin, too, he is,” said Mrs. Graycott with pride that was threaded through with a hint of resignation.
Charlotte nodded. Theoretically, all she needed to do was wait for her appointment with Inspector Treadles tomorrow morning and ask him everything. But if Inspector Treadles had exculpatory evidence to offer, he would not be spending the night at Scotland Yard.
“Can you tell me whether anything strange or unusual happened in this household recently, Mrs. Graycott?”
Mrs. Graycott nodded immediately. “Before he left for this last trip, the inspector called me aside and asked if anything was missing from the house. That question nearly made me jump out of my skin. The thought that a theft might have taken place under my watch—it was abhorrent.
“I asked him what was missing but he wouldn’t say; he only wanted to know whether I’d been aware of any items that had disappeared. I told him, even though I was shaken at the point, that I believed everyone who worked under me was honest and God-fearing. What other sort would work in the home of a police inspector?
“He said he trusted me. But he asked if there were any occasions when the house was empty. I told him that for a few hours on half days it might very well be, with Mrs. Treadles at Cousins and the staff out on their own errands.
“This morning, after Sergeant MacDonald had been, Mrs. Treadles asked me the same question you did just now, about whether Inspector Treadles took his revolver with him on his trip. When Inspector Brighton’s men came this afternoon, I told that Sergeant Howe that maybe Inspector Treadles’s revolver had been gone since before he left. Maybe that was what he was asking about when he wanted to know if anything had been missing and if the house might have stood empty.
“Sergeant Howe didn’t say anything. I had the feeling that . . . he didn’t think what I told him mattered. But it has to matter, doesn’t it, if the inspector never had the revolver? Unless, oh, goodness, unless . . .”