And he was watching her with a very troubled expression – as if he were suspecting her motives for hurrying away so promptly to Penelope’s room; and yet he seemed reluctant to leave her and return to the drawing room …
‘Did you see anybody?’ she asked a little breathlessly as she reached the hall. ‘Did you see anybody come down the stairs just now – after Harriet and I went up?’
‘The old nurse came down to assure us all was well.’
‘Nobody else?’
‘No.’ He looked at her with concern. ‘You seem distressed.’
She had no time to reply to that. She was too occupied with suspicion and calculation to give much thought to anything else. ‘Who exactly was in the drawing room just now?’ she said distractedly. ‘Can you remember? When we heard the cry, was there anyone who was not with us?’
He raised his brows, started another question, but then, upon seeing her look of impatience, stopped. He hesitated a moment – reluctant to encourage whatever investigations now occupied her. But then he gave a sigh. ‘Well,’ he said, considering carefully. ‘Mr and Mrs Harman-Foote, your brother and I were all at the card table. Mr and Miss Crockford and your sister were beside the fire. Miss Lucy Crockford was on the sofa by the pianoforte … and,’ he added, suddenly averting his eyes from hers, ‘Captain Laurence was there too and, I believe, talking very entertainingly to you.’
‘Yes,’ she said, only half-listening as she struggled to remember the position of everybody as exactly as she could. ‘Yes, you are quite right.’
He frowned and fell into a thoughtful silence.
‘So, who was missing?’ she said, busily checking everyone off on her fingers.
‘That young fellow who talked so much at tea about felling trees,’ he said, rousing from his reverie. ‘I do not believe he was in the drawing room.’
‘Mr Coulson? No, I think you are right.’ She looked thoughtfully about the quiet, empty expanse of marble-floored hall. Fine mahogany doors led to library, drawing room, dining room and billiard room and, all but hidden under the shadow of the great staircase, another smaller door led away to the offices. ‘I wonder,’ she said, ‘where that gentleman is now.’
‘Why, he has gone back into the drawing room now with the others. He joined us here in the hall a moment or two after you and Miss Crockford went upstairs.’
‘Did he indeed!’ she cried eagerly, eyes brightening, her face alive with rapid thought. ‘But he did not come down the stairs?’
‘No.’
‘Mr Lomax, can you remember from where he came?’
‘I hardly know …’ He was becoming more puzzled every moment: more and more at a loss to understand what she was about.
‘Please, try to remember. Is it possible that he came from over there.’ She pointed towards the door that led to the offices.
‘It is possible that he did. I cannot be sure. We were all shocked and there were a number of people in the hall. What does it matter whether he came through that door or another?’
‘Because,’ she said, ‘there must be back stairs in this house like any other.’
‘Miss Kent,’ he cried, unable to hide his exasperation any longer, ‘I am afraid that I do not now have the pleasure of understanding you. I am sure Madderstone Abbey has back stairs or its servants would be very seriously inconvenienced. But I am quite at a loss to know why those stairs should concern us now.’
‘Because Mr Coulson could have come down them, of course. He could have left Miss Lambe’s room, slipped out along the landing before Harriet and I reached it and come down the backstairs into the hall.’
He shook his head in bewilderment. ‘But why should you suspect him of doing so?’
‘Because something – or somebody – appeared to Penelope just now, and I do not believe it was either a ghost, or a nightmare.’
He looked extremely grave and she was very sure that he was going to make some remonstrance concerning unnecessary curiosity, but, to her great surprise, he only said, ‘Why? Why should you suppose such a thing?’
She held out her hand and he looked into it. ‘Candle wax?’ he said.
‘It was upon the bedpost near where this ghost had stood. It was still warm and soft when I found it – just spilt from a candle. And I think you will agree, Mr Lomax, that an apparition does not require artificial light – but a man impersonating one does.’
‘It seems a very wild idea,’ he protested. ‘Are you suggesting that the gentleman disguised himself as a ghost on purpose to frighten Miss Lambe? What possible motive could he have for doing something so very strange – and cruel?’
Dido bit thoughtfully at her lip. ‘The motive I cannot explain – yet. But it may be possible to prove my theory.’
‘Indeed?’ Try as he might, he could not keep the interest from his voice. ‘I should be very glad to hear how you might prove it.’
She looked from the sweeping staircase to the little door in its shadow. ‘If my surmise is correct,’ she said, ‘then he must have discarded his costume somewhere between the bedchamber and the hall – and he would have had little time in which to conceal it.’
‘His costume?’
‘Oh, Mr Lomax!’ she cried impatiently before she could stop herself. ‘Is it not obvious?’
He again considered leaving her and returning to the drawing room, but found that he could not. ‘No,’ he said as calmly as he could, ‘I am afraid it is not obvious to me at all. I am very sorry to be so dull-witted.’
‘Well, when – if – Mr Coulson appeared to Penelope as the ghost, then he had on a grey nun’s habit. But I do not suppose that he was dressed in that fashion when he arrived here in the hall – I think you might have remarked upon it if he had been.’
‘Ah!’ he said, smiling in spite of himself. ‘Yes, I think that even I might have noticed such a detail!’
‘And so,’ she said, ‘I shall see whether I can find it before he has a chance to retrieve it.’
She started up the stairs and, after a moment’s struggle, he followed her. ‘May I accompany you?’ he said. ‘I should be very glad to see your proof.’
‘I am all amazement! I had expected you to advise me against interfering.’
‘And would you heed me if I did?’
‘Ah!’ There was a moment of confusion, but the urgency of her quest overruled everything. ‘I fear that I might not,’ she admitted.
‘Then I shall not make myself ridiculous by offering counsel which I know will be disregarded.’
They reached the top of the stairs and turned into the passageway which led away to the back of the house; it was wide, well carpeted and panelled in fine oak, embellished with the staring heads of long-dead stags. Dido had expected to find a door to the kitchen stairs leading from it, but they arrived at its end and a large window overlooking an inner court, without encountering any such door.
‘How strange!’ she cried, turning her back to the window and looking along the length of the passage. ‘I was quite certain that there would be a door.’
Lomax picked up a candelabra which stood upon the window sill. ‘There most certainly is a door,’ he said, ‘but it has not been allowed to spoil the beauty of this panelling.’
Holding the light close to the wall, he began to make his way slowly back towards the landing. ‘Here it is!’ He stopped, pushed at the wood and opened a small door.