“I never saw-” Day said.
“Tut,” Kingsley said. He pulled the rag back from Hammersmith’s face and pursed his lips. “What rot.”
“I’m sorry?” Bennett Rose said. The innkeeper had been quietly busy in a corner of the room, polishing flatware, but now he turned and fixed Kingsley with a steely gaze. “I’ll ask you to be respectful while you’re in my place.”
“I don’t understand.” Kingsley stood holding the rag, a look of genuine confusion creasing his face. Day could smell the sharp tang of alcohol from halfway across the room.
“Mr Rose takes a bit of getting used to,” Hammersmith said.
“Our customs are important to us,” Rose said. “Sometimes the customs of a place is what binds people together. It’s not somethin’ to jest about.”
“I assure you, there was no jest intended.”
“Well, then.”
“Your superstitions have no basis in fact or reason. They mean nothing and should not come into consideration when discussing any provable thing,” Kingsley said. “But I meant no jest.”
“Well, you’re. . you. .” The innkeeper’s face gradually assumed the color of his name, a deep pink hue blossoming from somewhere beneath his collar and moving rapidly across his fleshy face. He sputtered, but was unable to form a complete sentence. He pointed a thick finger at Kingsley, turned on his heel, and stalked out of the room.
Kingsley blinked hard and scratched his nose with the same hand that held the rag. He gasped at the concentrated odor of the alcohol and dropped the rag back into his satchel. “I’m sure I don’t know what came over him,” he said.
“The people here are quite keen on their beliefs, Doctor,” Jessica said. “I have found that superstitions are often to blame when people intuit information from their surroundings. That doesn’t make the information wrong.”
Kingsley smiled. “Then please tender my apologies. You are a most perceptive young woman. Meanwhile, I’ve made your face as presentable as possible, Mr Hammersmith.”
“Thank you. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll change my shirt.”
Hammersmith took the clean white shirt from Fiona and went to the stairs and up. When he had ascended out of view, they all heard him cough once, loudly. There was a moment of silence, and then the echoes of a fresh coughing fit bounced down the stairwell at them. Day rose halfway from his chair, alarmed that Hammersmith might fall back down the stairs, but the coughing sounds retreated down the upstairs hallway and were shut off by the quiet click of a bedroom door closing.
“He must have been saving that up the entire time you were working on him, Doctor,” Claire said.
“I’m glad he didn’t let it go in my face.”
“He sounds dreadful,” Fiona said. “Has he caught cold here?”
“I’m afraid so,” Day said.
“You must take care of him, Father.”
“A cold will pass without any help from me,” Kingsley said. “But he must rest.”
“There’s not much chance of getting Nevil to rest,” Day said.
“No,” Fiona said. “He’s very dedicated.”
“There are a lot of people here who’ve come down sick,” Miss Jessica said. “It’s possible he’s got what they have.”
“Surely not,” Day said. “We’ve been here one night.”
“What’s the village sick with?” Kingsley said.
“I’m sure I don’t know.”
“It would be odd for him to have caught it so quickly, but I ought to talk with your doctor as soon as possible.”
“I could take you.”
“Actually, it would be helpful if you could first arrange a visit with the Price children,” Day said. “The remaining Price children, that is. They trust you.”
“But didn’t the sergeant talk to them last evening?”
“All but one.”
“Oh, you mean Virginia,” Jessica said. “The youngest of them. But surely she’s not important.”
“She may have seen something useful,” Day said. “Children often place importance on different things than we do.”
“If you think it might be worthwhile, I would be happy to take you to her,” Jessica said. “But we should hurry. This storm is only going to get worse.”
Day opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Hammersmith appeared on the landing, looking considerably more dignified in a fresh shirt. He was carrying a small fabric-wrapped bundle tucked under his arm. His face was pale and he was sweating, beads of dew glistening on his upper lip and across his brow. Kingsley crossed the room and laid the back of his hand against the sergeant’s damp forehead.
“Fiona, bring me a thermometer,” he said.
Hammersmith waved him away. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
Fiona rummaged through the satchel and produced a mercury thermometer, which she handed to her father. But Hammersmith clamped his lips shut. Day suppressed a chuckle as he watched Kingsley try to forcibly insert the thermometer past Hammersmith’s gritted teeth. Kingsley gave up and handed the thin tube of glass back to Fiona.
“There are other places I could insert this, you know,” he said.
But Fiona was already putting the thermometer back in the bag, so it was an empty threat. Hammersmith risked opening his mouth.
“I’m just a bit worn out from spending a night in the woods,” he said. “Nothing more.”
Kingsley clucked his tongue. “Nonsense. You must rest. I order you back to bed.”
Hammersmith shook his head, and Kingsley scowled at him. Day had been right: The sergeant would never voluntarily neglect his duty. If he was conscious and capable of walking, he would work.
“I’m afraid Sergeant Hammersmith is too valuable to me, Doctor,” Day said. “There’s only the two of us, and we must solve this case before we return to London tomorrow.”
Hammersmith gave Day a grateful look. Day smiled back at him. Better to give Hammersmith a task that wasn’t strenuous than to fight him and allow him to go off on his own. Besides, stubbornness wasn’t the worst trait for a policeman.
“Doctor, I brought these down for you to see,” Hammersmith said. He held out the bundle and laid it on the edge of the table. Day recognized the fabric. It was the runner from under the washbasin on his vanity. Hammersmith carefully rolled the cloth out and caught the bloody dress and the small box in his other hand.
“Evidence?” Kingsley said.
“We think so.”
Kingsley opened the box and stared at the shriveled eyeball inside. He nodded and closed the box, set it on the table, and picked up the dress. He unfolded it on his palm, the sleeves and the hem hanging down off the ends of his fingers.
“Blood.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“It does look like it. I’ll have to test it.”
“Did you bring the proper equipment?” Day said.
Kingsley made a face at him.
“Yes, of course you did,” Day said. The doctor was always prepared.
“I’ll need a few hours. It’s mostly a matter of observing chemical reactions, but I’ll want to be sure.”
“Good,” Day said. “While you’re doing that, we’ll need to find witnesses. An entire family doesn’t disappear without someone seeing something. Nevil, I need you to accompany Miss Jessica and question Virginia Price.”
“But surely I-”
“It’s vital that we discover anything she might know.”
Hammersmith nodded glumly. “I’ll leave now,” he said.
“But you haven’t eaten yet,” Fiona said.
“I’m not hungry.”
Kingsley cleared his throat. “I know it’s no use to protest. But I strongly advise against any activity. One never knows about these provincial maladies. If something settles in your lungs. .”
Hammersmith shook his head and waved a weak hand at the room, encompassing all of the people, as well as a fireplace and a low-hanging chandelier. “I tell you I’m fine. There’s nothing to be concerned about. Please, let’s stop discussing me as if I weren’t capable of managing my own affairs.”
Fiona gave him a pitying look, but said nothing. Day knew what she was thinking. Hammersmith was capable of a great many things, but managing his own affairs was not one of them.