Anne Perry - Defend and Betray

“And the outside staff?”

“Outside, sir.” The butler looked at him with open contempt.

“They have no access to the house?” “No sir, they have no need.”

Monk gritted his teeth. “And none of you heard the general fall onto the suit of armor, or the whole thing come crashing down?”

The butler's face paled, but his eyes were steady. “No sir. I already told the police person who enquired. We were about our duties, and they did not necessitate any of us coming through the hall. As you may have observed, the withdrawing room is to the rear of the house, and by that time dinner was well finished. We had no cause to pass in that direction.”

“After dinner were you all in the kitchen or the pantry clearing away?”

“Yes sir, naturally.”

“No one left?”

“What would anyone leave for? We had more than sufficient to keep us busy if we were to get to bed before one.”

“Doing what, precisely?” It galled Monk to have to persist in the face of such dignified but subtly apparent scorn. But he would not explain to the man.

Because his master had required it, the butler patiently answered these exceedingly tedious and foolish questions.

“I saw to the silver and the wine, with the assistance of the first footman. The second footman tidied up the dining room and set everything straight ready for morning, and fetched more coal up in case it was required-”

“The dining room,” Monk interrupted. “The second footman was in the dining room. Surely he would have heard the armor go over?”

The butler flushed with annoyance. He had been caught out.

“Yes sir, I suppose he would,” he said grudgingly. “If he'd been in the dining room when it happened.”

“And you said he fetched up coal. Where from?”

“The coal cellar, sir.”

“Where is the door to it? “

“Back of the scullery… sir. “The “sir” was heavy with irony.

“Which rooms would he bring coal for?”

“I…” The butler stopped. “I don't know, sir.” His face betrayed that he had realized the possibilities. For the dining room, the morning room, the library or billiard room the footman would have crossed the hall.

“May I speak with him?” Monk did not say please; the request was only a formality. He had every intention of speaking with the man regardless.

The butler was not going to put himself in the position of being wrong again.

“I'll send him to you.” And before Monk could argue that he would go to the man, which would give him an opportunity to see the servants' area, the butler was gone.

A few minutes later a very nervous young man came in, dressed in ordinary daytime livery of black trousers, shirt and striped waistcoat. He was in his early twenties, fair haired and fair skinned, and at the moment he was extremely ill at ease. Monk guessed the butler had reasserted his authority over the situation by frightening his immediate junior.

Out of perversity Monk decided to be thoroughly pleasant with the young man.

“Good morning,” he said with a disarming smile-at least that was how it was intended. “I apologize for taking you from your duties, but I think you may be able to help me.”

“Me sir?” His surprise was patent. “ 'Ow can I do that, sir?”

“By telling me, as clearly as you can remember, everything you did the evening General Carlyon died, starting after dinner when the guests went to the withdrawing room.”

The footman screwed up his race in painfully earnest concentration and recounted his usual routine.

“Then what?” Monk prompted.

“The withdrawing room bell rang,” the footman answered. “And since I was passing right by there, I answered it. They wanted the fire stoked, so I did it.”

“Who was there then?”

“The master wasn't there, and the mistress came in just as I was leaving.”

“And then?”

“Thenl-er…”

“Had another word with the kitchen maid?” Monk took a guess. He smiled as he said it.

The footman colored, his eyes downcast. “Yes sir.”

“Did you fetch the coal buckets for the library?”

“Yes sir-but I don't remember how many minutes later it was.” He looked unhappy. Monk guessed it was probably quite some time.

“And crossed the hall to do it?”

“Yes sir. The armor was still all right then.”

So whoever it was, it was not Louisa. Not that he had held any real hope that it might be.

“Any other rooms you took coal for? What about upstairs?”

The footman blushed hotly and lowered his eyes.

“You were supposed to, and didn't?” Monk guessed.

The footman looked up quickly. “Yes I did, sir! Mrs. Furnival's room. The master doesn't care for a fire at this timeo' the year.”

“Did you see someone, or something, when you were upstairs?”

“No sir!”

What was the man lying about? There was something; it was there in his pink face, his downcast eyes, his awkward hands and feet. He was riddled with guilt.

“Where did you go upstairs? What rooms did you pass? Did you hear something, an argument?”

“No sir.” He bit his lip and still avoided Monk's eyes.

“Well?” Monk demanded.

“I went up the front stairs-sir…”

Suddenly Monk understood. “Oh, I see-with the coal buckets?”

“Yes sir. Please sir…”

“I shan't tell the butler,” Monk promised quickly.

“Thank you, sir! I-thank you sir.” He swallowed. “The armor was still there, sir; and I didn't see the general-or anyone else, except the upstairs maid.”

“I see. Thank you. You have helped me considerably.”

“Have I sir?” He was doubtful, but relieved to be excused.

Next Monk went upstairs to find the off-duty housemaids. It was his last hope that one of them had seen Sabella.

The first maid offered no hope at all. The second was a bright girl of about sixteen with a mass of auburn hair. She seemed to grasp the significance of his questions, and answered readily enough, although with wary eyes, and he caught a sense of eagerness that suggested to him she had something to hide as well as something to reveal. Presumably she was the one the footman had seen.

“Yes, I saw Mrs. Pole,” she said candidly. “She wasn't feeling well, so she lay down for a while in the green room.”

“When was that?”

“I-I dunno, sir.”

“Was it long after dinner?”

“Oh, yes sir. We 'as our dinner at six o'clock!”

Monk realized his mistake and tried to undo it.

“Did you see anyone else while you were on the landing?”

The color came to her tace and suddenly the picture was clearer.

“I shan't report what you say, unless I have to. But if you lie, you may go to prison, because an innocent person could be hanged. You wouldn't want that, would you?”

Now she was ashen white, so frightened as to be robbed momentarily of words.

“So who did you see?”

“John.” Her voice was a whisper.

“The footman who was rilling the coal buckets?”

“Yes sir-but I didn't speak to him-honest! I jus' came to the top o' the stairs, like. Mrs. Pole were in the green room, 'cause I passed the door and it was open, an' I seen 'erlike.”

“You came all the way down from your own room at the top of the house?”

She nodded, guilt over her attempt to see the footman outweighing every other thought. She had no idea of the significance of what she was saying.

“How did you know when he was going to be there?”

“I…” She bit her lip. “I waited on the landing.”

“Did you see Mrs. Carlyon go upstairs to Master Valentine's room?”

“Yes sir.”

“Did you see Mrs. Carlyon come down again?”

“No sir, nor the general, sir-I swear to God!”