Page 70 of The Curse of Ill-Gotten Gains
“Or,” Stokes said, “if there’s one in the house that’s been moved or gone missing.”
“That’s a question we can ask the staff.” Barnaby stepped free of the prints and looked at Stokes and Penelope. “No time like the present.”
They left Morgan to watch over the site and strode quickly back to the house.
By luck, they found Gearing in the front hall, replacing the large vase of flowers on the central table.
Penelope smiled at the butler. “Gearing, is there a spyglass in the house? One that’s small enough to carry about on one’s person?”
They all saw the surprise that flared in Gearing’s eyes. “A spyglass, ma’am?” There was an odd note in his voice as well.
Studying him, Penelope tilted her head. “Yes, but what’s strange about that query?”
Gearing colored faintly. “It’s just odd you ask that, ma’am.” He nodded toward the library. “There’s one in there. Let me show you.”
They followed Gearing into the long library, and he led them to the mantelshelf. Halting before it, he pointed at the small, collapsible brass-and-walnut spyglass standing at one end.
“That glass is usually always there, in that spot. But when Milly, the parlormaid, came in to dust yesterday morning, it was gone. She told me straightaway and showed me, and we looked all over this room, thinking one of the guests had picked it up and put it down somewhere else, but we didn’t find it.” Gearing drew in a breath and continued, “And then, late yesterday afternoon, after you had left, Milly came in to straighten and dust, and there it was. In that spot. She called me to see, and it was just sitting there”—Gearing gestured at the glass—“as you see it now. So we reasoned that one of the guests had borrowedit and taken it away and used it for whatever they needed it for, then brought it back.”
Gearing looked at Barnaby and Stokes, who was busy jotting notes.
When Gearing’s gaze moved on to Penelope, she nodded. “I think that’s exactly what happened, Gearing.” She smiled at the butler. “Thank you.”
Stokes shut his notebook, tucked it away, then reached out and picked up the spyglass. To Gearing, he said, “We’re officially borrowing this for now. We’ll return it—into your hands—once we’ve finished with it.”
Gearing was puzzled, but half bowed. “Of course, sir.”
Barnaby shared a glance with Stokes, then said, “We’ll be heading off to the inn shortly, Gearing. If we’re needed, send for us there.”
Gearing bowed again. “Indeed, sir.”
He followed them out of the library and headed down the hall, returning to his duties.
Meanwhile, with poorly concealed eagerness, Penelope, Barnaby, and Stokes walked briskly across the front lawn to where, they were now quite sure, the murderer had stood and watched something happen in the library.
They reached the trees, ducked under their cover, and made their way to the critical spot.
Barnaby placed his shoes in the prints again, then raised the spyglass to his eye.
After barely a second, Penelope impatiently demanded, “What can you see?”
“Strange,” Barnaby replied. “I can see a vase. Very clearly. It’s perfectly framed by the window.”
After a moment, he lowered the glass and looked at Penelope. “It’s that Chinese vase on one of the display shelves amongthe bookcases on the other side of the library, opposite the windows.”
Penelope’s face cleared. “I remember it.” She started back toward the house. “Let’s go back and examine it.”
There was no one about to see them reenter the house. They went into the library, and Penelope went straight to the large white-pink-and-green vase. As Barnaby had said, it sat on a shelf directly opposite the window through which he’d been looking.
Stokes had paused to look about the front hall. He joined them with, “Obviously, it’s easy enough to move about this house without being seen.”
Penelope reached for the vase, carefully lifted it, brought it to her, and peered inside. “Hmm.” She frowned into the vase. “There’s always dust in these things.” Tilting her head, she studied the vase’s interior. “And in this case, the coating of dust within has been disturbed relatively recently. Not as if someone cleaned, mind you. More like something—a packet of some sort, perhaps—had been placed inside, then taken out.”
She straightened and offered the vase to Stokes. “If you look carefully, you’ll be able to see the marks.”
Stokes accepted the vase and looked, tilting the porcelain this way, then that. Eventually, he nodded. “I see what you mean. There are straight lines streaked in the dust on either side.”
As he handed the vase to Barnaby, Barnaby observed, “Given what the other victims told us of the places Monty stipulated for leaving their payments, this vase certainly fits his bill.”
