The Prisoner in the Tower by Dawn Harris

Author:Dawn Harris [Harris, Dawn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781710565980
Published: 2019-12-16T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T he day had started with dull skies, but the clouds had completely disappeared in the last hour and collecting a parasol I went outside to enjoy the sunshine. As I put up my parasol I saw Mr. Reevers riding towards the house. I walked over to greet him, thankful for this unexpected opportunity to discuss the Comte’s murder, and our lack of progress in finding the traitor. A servant quickly took charge of his horse, and I suggested we went for a stroll in the garden. He agreed readily and I politely inquired if Mr. Morel had settled in at Norton House.

‘Yes, Tom’s no trouble at all. Actually he’s gone to see Giles today. They worked together for a short time in Paris,’ he said, and changing the subject he asked if I knew what had happened to the Comte. ‘I’ve only had a garbled version from my groom.’

I repeated everything that Richard had told us and ended by saying, ‘The constable is convinced Pink killed him, but I think it more likely that a man climbed through an open window during the heavy rain last night and stabbed the Comte. Dr. Redding said the knife used on the Comte had a much broader blade than the one that killed Mr. Fenton, and it was such a frenzied attack that the murderer’s clothes would have been covered in blood.’

He murmured thoughtfully, ‘Perhaps the Comte put up a fight. Although it wouldn’t have been easy in his weakened state.’

‘No, but he was the only one to get ashore alive when the yacht capsized in that storm.’

‘A survivor,’ he acknowledged. ‘Only this time his luck ran out. Was anything stolen?’

‘His rings. Apparently he wore four that were extremely valuable.’

‘Really?’ he responded, raising his eyebrows. ‘The killer stole from Fenton too.’ He didn’t speak for a minute or two as we walked along the winding path through the flower beds. I guessed he was searching for a connection between the two murders, in much the same way as I had. But, like me, he clearly ended up with the same uncertain result, for he couldn’t quite hide his exasperation when he muttered, ‘Perhaps smugglers did kill Fenton after all.’

I understood how he felt. I wished the answer was that simple too, but as I told him quietly, ‘The difficulty I have with that is, every instinct I possess tells me it wasn’t smugglers.’ Observing a faint smile on his lips, I remarked icily, ‘I suppose you don’t believe in a woman’s instinct.’

‘My dear girl, I would never be so rude. It so happens....’

‘I am not your dear girl.’

‘No,’ he whispered softly. Foolishly, I turned to look at him, and the expression in his eyes left me in no doubt what he did wish for.

I took a deep breath. ‘Mr. Reevers, working together for Mr. Pitt doesn’t mean......’

He held up his hands in surrender. ‘I beg your pardon. Actually I was about to explain it was instinct that saved me from the guillotine on the morning our agents were arrested.

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