A Conspiracy of Ravens (32 page)

Edward had grown restless under Fenton’s relentless questioning. He did not like the man and felt that for a superintendent he was unnecessarily demanding. But he answered the questions, and finally Edward sat up straighter and looked the man full in the eye. “Isn’t it premature to ask all these questions, Superintendent? After all, the man may have died of a heart attack.”

Fenton glared at him and said, “I’ll have to be the judge of that, Lord Darby.” He got to his feet. “I’ll leave Inspector Grant to continue the questioning. I have a great deal of responsibility. Good day, sir.”

“I’ll show you to the door.”

“I think I can find my way.” He left quickly and found Grant. “Grant, I want you to question the family and all the servants.”

“Yes, sir. What am I looking for?”

“For facts, man—facts! I don’t have time to teach you how to question witnesses. Now, do your job and report to me as soon as Newton gives you a report on the cause of death.”

“Yes, sir,” Grant said quietly and watched as the superintendent left the room, walking quickly as if to rid himself of the place.

Dylan had spent the early morning down by the harbor at the mission where he often volunteered. He had very little money, but he usually took a few things that the men might lack. Leaving the mission, he had gone to the Montevado house and was pleased to see that Maria, the mother of Callie and Paco, looked healthier. “You’re looking very well, Maria,” he said.

“Yes, sir. The money that the viscountess gave us has made such a difference.” She was of pure Spanish blood and had been married to Ramon Montevado. He’d been dead for five years, and Maria’s beauty was worn down from her work in the sweatshops. She had become ill, and it had been through Dylan Tremayne and the viscountess that her family had received care. Now there was a glow in her cheeks. “I wish you would give ’er my thanks again, Mr. Tremayne.”

“Of course I will.”

She said, “I ’ave to go out for a while. Callie, you entertain Mr. Tremayne.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Talking with Paco, who was eight, and Callie, who was almost thirteen, was always a pleasure to Dylan. They had sharpened their wits by surviving on the streets in one of the worst districts of London, and Callie, whose real name was Calendra, was turning into a real beauty. She was on the brink of young womanhood and, within a year or even less, would be quite different from the ragamuffin Dylan had first met.

He sat down and Callie fixed tea for him, and the two children, as usual, were intensely curious about what he did. They were fascinated by Dylan, and it was Calendra who asked finally, “Why is the viscountess so good to us, giving us money?”

“Why, she’s a good woman, she is.”

Callie stared at him and demanded, “Are you going to marry ’er?”

“Why would you say such a thing? I’m just a poor actor, and she’s a fine lady.”

Calendra said, “You’d make a good ’usband. She must be stupid if she can’t see ’at.”

“Oh no, she’s not stupid. Not Lady Trent. She’s the smartest person I’ve ever known.”

Calendra continued her pursuit of Dylan’s love life, and finally he laughed and got to his feet. “Well, throw me in the river if you can’t think of more questions than any human I ever saw! It’s all I can do to take care of myself, girl. Besides”—he grinned and reached out and tugged a lock of her jet black hair—“I might have a baby girl who’d grow up and pester me with foolish questions. I’ve got to go now.”

“When you coming back?” Paco asked.

“Very soon.”

“Will you bring us presents?” Paco asked with a grin.

“What kind of a present?”

“Something we’ll like.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Good-bye now.”

Leaving the Seven Dials district, he went back to Matthew’s rooms. He was hungry and had stopped on the way to get a kidney pie, and he was sitting down to eat it when Matthew came in. He took one look at Dylan and said, “I hope you got two of those.”

“No, I didn’t. I never know when I’ll see you.” He studied Matthew’s face and said, “What’s wrong? You look upset.”

“Well, it’s a case. You’ll be interested in it. It may concern young Trevor, that fellow you found for Lord Darby.”

Dylan was prepared to take a bite of the pie, but he put it down and said, “What’s happened?”

“There’s been a death at Lord Darby’s.” He went on to describe the case and said, “You may want to go out to Trentwood if you have time. Find out if the autopsy is over and bring me word.”

“I’ve got plenty of time, but you don’t seem happy, Grant.”

“I’m all right.” Grant did not seem all right, however. There was a harried expression in his eyes and a hardness that had been in him the first time Dylan had met him.

“You should be the superintendent.”

“Well, I’m not.” There was a bitterness to Grant, and he threw himself into a chair and stared at Dylan defiantly.

“God has us in His hands, Matthew. He’ll take care of you.” He almost spoke of Dora, but he did not. He was sure that Grant was head over heels in love with the young woman, and as superintendent he would have been a suitable candidate for a husband, but as a mere inspector, a policeman, he would never be accepted. He got up and said, “I’ll go out to Trentwood. I was planning to go out anyhow and visit David.”

“Send word as soon as there is a word.”

“Where will you be?”

“Probably back at Lord Darby’s house.”

Leaving the house, Dylan found a hansom cab and engaged the driver. On the way to Trentwood he thought about what Matthew had told him and was troubled by it for some reason. As soon as he reached the house, he paid the cabdriver, adding an extra shilling for his trouble and feeling guilty because his bank roll was small indeed.

When he went to the door, he was met by Louisa Toft, Serafina’s maid.

“Why, Mr. Tremayne.” She smiled, her eyes glowing. “How good to see you.”

“Why, thank you, Louisa.”

“Come in, sir. It’s cold out.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Can I take your coat?”

“I need to see Dr. Newton and Lady Trent.”

“Oh, sir, they’re in the laboratory outside. Shall I take you there?”

“No, thank you, Louisa. I know the way.”

“Is there anything else I could do for you?”

Dylan Tremayne was accustomed to women who were taken with him. Actors seemed to draw women as honey draws flies. Louisa was a beautiful young woman with rosy cheeks, clear eyes, and a pleasing form. There was something in her question, more than just a lightness, and he knew that all he had to say was one word and she would respond. But he had learnt better, and now he just simply smiled and said, “Thank you, Louisa,” and turned at once and went back outside. Louisa sighed deeply and shut the door.

When he reached the lab, after trudging through the packed snow, he knocked on the door and heard a muffled reply that he could not make out. He assumed it was an invitation to enter, and he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He took in the scene: the naked body of a man on a table, with Dr. Newton and his daughter wearing white coats and standing over him. He felt the same queasy feeling he had felt the first time he had walked in on an autopsy. That time he had fainted dead away in front of Serafina, and now he wanted nothing so much as to be gone.

Serafina saw his problem and said at once, “Dylan, why don’t you go visit with David. We’ll soon be finished here. He’s missed you.”

“I believe I’ll do that.” With a quick gush of relief, Dylan turned and went back to the house. He entered and went upstairs to the old nursery, which had become a playroom for David. As he walked in, David, who was sitting on the floor amidst a jumble of toy soldiers, leapt to his feet and came over to him, his eyes flashing. “Did you come to play with me?”

“Well, for a while. I came to see your mother and your grandfather too.”

“Sit down. Show me some of the battles you were in when you were a soldier.”

Lowering himself to the floor, Dylan began arranging the soldiers, and David peppered him with questions, asking finally, “Did you ever kill anyone when you were a soldier?”

“I’m afraid I did, and I wish I hadn’t.” This was inexplicable to David, for whom death was only a vague, nebulous idea. Quickly he changed the subject, and the two began to move the soldiers around.

“Not good, is it, Father?” Serafina looked at her father and saw that he was as troubled as she was.

“Not at all. We’ll have to get our results to the police at once.”

“I’ll go up and tell Dylan. Perhaps he’ll want to take the news back to Silverthorn. I’m worried about young Trevor,” she said, stripping off the white coat and putting on her winter garb before going outside.

When she entered the house, she went upstairs at once to the playroom, and hearing voices, she paused. Through the open doors she could see David and Dylan sprawled out on the floor, Dylan on his stomach moving soldiers around and David, across from him, saying, “I won, didn’t I?”

“That you did, my boy.” Serafina watched as David came over and sat down across from Dylan.

“I wish you had some little boys for me to play with,” he said.

“Well, I guess I am a little shy of boys.”

“Don’t you want any boys or girls?”

“Oh, yes, indeed!”

“Well, why don’t you get married and have some then?”

Dylan smiled, and Serafina saw him reach out and tousle David’s fair hair. It was something David hated when other people did it, but he did not seem to mind Dylan’s touch. “Why, I just haven’t found the woman God is getting ready for me.”

David studied Dylan’s face and then asked, “Is God making a woman just for you?”

“Oh, yes, indeed, and He’s making me just for her.”

David was very quiet. Serafina had seen this look on his face many times when he was mulling things over, but she was shocked when she heard him say, “Maybe God wants you to marry my mum. You could live here all the time, and when you had babies, I could have some company.”

Serafina found her cheeks suddenly glowing, and she did not know what to think, but she listened hard for Dylan’s answer.

“Your mother is a wonderful woman, David. Much too fine for a rough fellow like me.”

“But—she could train you, couldn’t she? Make you into a good husband?”

Serafina could see Dylan’s face. He was smiling as he said, “The Bible says, ‘Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favor of the Lord.’ So the Lord favors married men. But your mother will probably marry an earl or a duke.”

“I don’t want them, Dylan. I want you.”

Serafina suddenly coughed and walked into the room. She pretended to have heard nothing, but she saw that Dylan had a slight smile on his face and knew that she had heard.

“Time for your nap, David.”

“No, Mum, I’m playing with Dylan.”

“With Mr. Dylan.”

“I’m playing with Mr. Dylan.” There was the usual argument to get David off to his nap, and finally Serafina was accompanied by Dylan to David’s room. Together they put him in bed, still protesting, and when they stepped outside, Serafina drew a deep breath. “David adores you, Dylan.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual. I’ve got a fondness for the boy, me. But that may not be a good thing. I may have to leave him.” Then he added as an afterthought, “And you, my lady.”

Serafina was startled. Her eyes opened wide, and her lips parted slightly. “Are you—are you planning to go away?”

“No, but I may get marching orders from the Lord. I know you don’t believe in such things. I’ll enjoy David while I can. I’ve grown very fond of him, Serafina, and for—”

He evidently changed his mind and said instead, “Grant told me about the business at Lord Darby’s. Is there anything new?”

“I’m afraid so. The victim was poisoned.”

“Do you tell me that?”

“Yes. I was certain of it from the time we saw the body. There was a smell like bitter almonds, which is an indication of cyanide. We found the body full of it. It’s murder now, Dylan. We’ve got to take the results of this autopsy to the superintendent and to Lord Darby. I’ll send word to the superintendent, but I think I’ll take it to Lord Darby myself. Would you come with me?”

“Well, of course. Grant said he’d be at Lord Darby’s too. What can I do?”