He sent a cold nod in the direction of Jeanne Lanier, who watched him, apprehensive. "Captain, please ask your questions."
I moved uncomfortably. I had hoped that Sir Montague would interview Jeanne Lanier, but the magistrate merely drank port, a smile on his face, and motioned for me to carry on.
"You told me," I began, addressing her, "that Frederick Sutcliff came to you the night of Middleton's death at a little after ten o'clock. I do not believe that is true. What time did he actually arrive?"
Jeanne plucked once at her skirt, then she raised her head and looked at me with clear eyes. "He arrived at a little before midnight. I let him in through my bedroom window. He climbed the tree outside."
I remembered the thick tree growing near that window; Jeanne had waved at me through its branches one afternoon.
She went on. "He was laughing and shaking, nearly half-crazed. He had blood on his hands and quite a lot on his coat. Blood was splattered over his face."
"What did he say to you?" I asked.
"He said, 'I've done it. Now the money need be shared only two ways.'"
Sir Montague nodded thoughtfully. Denis remained cold and still.
"What did he do then?" I prompted.
"He removed his clothes and washed himself. He asked me to hide the clothes for him. He kept a second suit in my room. I do not know whether he'd put it there for this purpose or simply to have it on hand."
"Did he tell you he'd killed Middleton?"
"Not then." Jeanne flushed. "He was in quite a buoyant mood, laughing and talking feverishly. He did not quiet until very early morning, and then he rose and left me. But the next day when I saw him, he was calmly triumphant. 'None know who killed the groom,' he told me. 'And none will know. The magistrate is a fool.' Since that day, he often boasted to me how cleverly he'd done it."
"He was not ashamed at all, then?" I asked softly.
"No, Captain. He was proud."
Denis gazed at her, his face unmoving, but I saw the anger in his eyes.
"What happened was this," I said for Sir Montague's and Denis' benefit. "Sutcliff runs after Middleton the night of the murder. He might have seen Sebastian leaving the school as well, and had the idea to push the blame for the crime onto the Romany. He probably paid Thomas Adams to pretend to overhear a quarrel between Sebastian and Middleton."
Grenville broke in. "Middleton must not have seen Sutcliff as a threat, if he agreed to go with him to the place where you found the knife."
"No," I said. "It was foolish of him, but he'd been a man feared for his strength for so long, he likely did not think a nineteen-year-old boy could best him. Or perhaps he'd had the thought to thrash Sutcliff himself. But Sutcliff takes him by surprise and cuts his throat. Sutcliff drops the knife in the dark and bundles Middleton in the rowboat he's secured there for the purpose. It is late and dark; the bargemen would have moored for the night or gone to find a pint in the nearest tavern. Sutcliff dumps Middleton's body into the lock, hides or abandons the boat somewhere down the canal, and races to Hungerford to meet with his mistress."
"A moment," Grenville said. "If Sutcliff did not arrive until twelve, what about the landlady, who claimed she heard the bed frame squeaking and all that, well before midnight?"
"It was Marianne who'd told me that," I said. Grenville flushed, although he did not look very surprised. "But, she could not swear she heard both of them. How difficult would it be for Jeanne to shake the bed and make the expected noises? One does not like to listen to such things; one is embarrassed and tries to ignore it. You were alone in that bed," I said to Jeanne, "until Sutcliff arrived near to midnight."
"Yes," she said simply.
"Did he ask you to destroy his clothes?" I went on. "Either by burning them or tossing them over the railing of a ship heading for France?"
"He did not specify. He only told me to get rid of them."
"And did you?"
She pressed her lips together a moment, then answered. "No. They are still hidden under a board in the Hungerford house."
Sir Montague Harris took a long gulp of port. "Ah, excellent. You are a clever young woman."
Jeanne shook her head and sent Sir Montague her winsome half-smile. "Not clever. I could not decide how to destroy them without calling attention to myself. Cloth burning in a fireplace smells foul, and I did not want to risk being arrested in Dover carrying a man's suit with blood on it."
"Most excellent," Sir Montague repeated. "I will dispatch a Runner to find them. Do you believe, Captain, that your former sergeant Pomeroy would be interested in such a commission?" His eyes twinkled.
"I believe it would interest him greatly," I answered. Pomeroy, a tall, solid, bluff man, once my sergeant and now one of the famed Bow Street Runners, liked nothing better than an obvious piece of evidence. He would arrest Sutcliff with glee.
Denis' face was as hard as marble. I could feel his anger at Sutcliff, and I reasoned that Sutcliff would be lucky to be arrested by Pomeroy. Pomeroy would make sure that Sutcliff was punished by the full force of the law, but Denis' retribution would be far more frightening. I remembered the coachman who had displeased Denis in the affair of Hanover Square. He'd dispatched that man without turning a hair, and he had not been as angry then as he was now.
Grenville fingered the stem of his glass. As though understanding the tension in the room, he went on with his questions. "What I do not understand is why? Sutcliff and the others were making a nice little fortune on their canal scheme. Why kill Middleton and Fletcher and end all that?"
"Because," I said, "Middleton was preparing to report everything to James Denis."
"Indeed," Denis answered, the word tight.
Grenville nodded. "I believe I see."
"Denis' servant told us that Middleton was growing weary of living in the country," I said. "He was a city man, for all his love of horses. And working for Rutledge is trying, as I came to know. Perhaps Middleton wanted out, perhaps he was ready to tell Denis about it, perhaps preparing to turn over the scheme to him."
"And so Sutcliff killed Middleton," Grenville said slowly.
"And Fletcher knew he did," I went on. "He must have known, perhaps threatened to reveal all. So, Sutcliff was forced to kill Fletcher, as well."
"Poor man," Grenville said feelingly.
"Fletcher must have been excellent at drawing people into the swindle. Who could resist hardworking, friendly Fletcher? If Fletcher had thought I had money, he likely would have tried to persuade me to invest. If he had not been distressed by Middleton's murder by the time you appeared, I imagine he would have begun persuading you, as well. I liked poor Fletcher, but he certainly fleeced quite a few people."
Grenville frowned. "But why on earth did Sutcliff burn Fletcher's books? To frighten him? It seems to have made Fletcher terribly angry instead. Remember how he thrashed Sutcliff that day?"
Sir Montague leaned forward, listening avidly. Jeanne listened, but she kept her eyes on the carpet, her posture neutral, as though she had no interest in the rest of the story.
"Sutcliff burned the books because he knew that Fletcher kept the contracts hidden in them. He went to Fletcher's rooms, stole the books, set them alight, and chucked them into the quad. Rutledge assumed it was just another prank-Sutcliff knew he would. But Sutcliff's motive was twofold, to destroy the incriminating papers, and to warn Fletcher to keep quiet about Middleton."
"But he missed a book."
"Yes, the one Fletcher kept hidden in his robe. Sutcliff must have been looking for that on the night he killed Fletcher. Perhaps Fletcher surprised him, or perhaps they quarreled, or perhaps he'd intercepted my note to you telling you to ask Fletcher about canals and knew the game was up. Sutcliff told Jeanne to get ready to depart with the money for France, then he returned to the school and went to Fletcher. After he killed Fletcher, he looked for the book, could not find it, knew the household would be stirring soon, and fled back to the Head Master's house. But he ran into you in the quad returning from Hungerford. Panicked, he stabbed you as he ran past you and into the house."