A Spy in the Deep by Patrick Samphire

Author:Patrick Samphire [Patrick Samphire]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Half an hour later, the suspects were gathered in the large drawing room, along with the maid, Emily, and the elderly couple who had all seen Strachan fall to his death.

“Well?” Sir William demanded, as an automatic servant moved around in a whirr of cogs, serving tea. “Found out who did it, Simpson?”

Bertrand grimaced. “Just have to ask some questions, sir.”

Sir William shook his head. “How hard can this be? Fellow was pushed. Not many suspects. I expect my policemen to be able to solve cases like this. I will not have you interfere with people’s preparations for the ball.”

“Maybe after…”

Sir William’s glare hardened. “After the ball, guests will be free to leave. There are important people here, Simpson. I’ll not damage the force’s reputation because of your incompetence, you hear me?”

“It’ll be all right,” Harriet whispered to Bertrand as Sir William turned away. She hoped so, anyway. She could feel the pressure squeezing down on her like the water above the hotel. One mistake, one crack, and everything would collapse: Bertrand’s career, her hopes of becoming a spy, and her soon-to-be niece’s or nephew’s future.

The door to the drawing room burst open with such vigor that Harriet almost expected to hear trumpets. In strode Sir Lancelot, blond hair swept back as though by a strong wind.

“I,” Sir Lancelot announced, “will be joining you.” He winked at Harriet. Harriet resisted the urge to punch him. See, Amy. I am growing up. Maybe later, when no one was watching.

“Ah…” Bertrand cleared his throat. “I’m not sure that would be appropriate. Police matters, you see…”

“Nonsense,” Sir William called from the back of the room, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Let the fellow help. He, at least, might have a chance of actually solving the case.”

“Why don’t we start with Emily?” Harriet said, quickly.

The maid started. “Me?”

“If you don’t mind.”

The maid’s face turned as red as a sunset as everyone faced her. Strange, Harriet thought, for someone who had made her living as an opera singer. But then maybe it was different when you were on stage, lights blinding you to the audience. And Emily had given up her life as a star of the stage to work as a lowly maid. Maybe she didn’t like the attention.

“You said you saw Mr. Strachan fall from the balcony?”

The maid nodded mutely.

“But you didn’t see anyone up there.”

“No.” She bit her lip. “I…I didn’t think to look up at first. I was too…too shocked.” She seemed, Harriet thought, to be about to burst into tears, and if she did, that would be the end of the questioning. Bertrand was useless in front of a crying girl. To her shame, Harriet had tried it once when she’d been twelve. It had gotten her out of trouble, but she had never done it again. That wasn’t the kind of person she wanted to be.

“You knew him, though?”

Emily looked down at her hands. “A bit, if it please you. He’d only been here a week. The maids don’t fraternize with the footmen, of course.

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