Page 32 of Evidence of Evil
“It’s an understandable silence.”
“No wonder she wouldn’t tell him aboutme. She would have had to explain how she knew me. There is so muchsecrecyhere.”
“And at Fairfield Grange. But where do we go from here?”
Constance sprang to her feet. “To find out the truth about Frances’s baby.”
“I really doubt Laing will tell us.”
“No, but his assistant might.”
*
Dr. Harold Murrayapparently lodged with his master in Dr. Laing’s cottage. However, Sir Humphrey said he was frequently to be found in the late afternoon enjoying a quiet pint in the village hostelry.
“If Laing has no need of him,” he added.
Since they both thought they would have more chance of learning the truth if Murray was away from Laing, Solomon and Constance repaired to the village inn.
Here, they ordered a light tea and sat in the genteel coffee room. Solomon made occasional unsuccessful forays into the taproom, in search of Dr. Murray, but when asked, the landlord said it was still a bit early for the lad—and in any case, he was normally kept pretty busy.
“Sometimes he barely has time to swallow a half-pint,” the landlord said with a grin. “Hardly worth his time coming, but I think he enjoys the break.”
“Dr. Laing keeps his nose to the grindstone?”
“Good for the young.” The landlord chortled.
“His father will be pleased,” Solomon said.
“I’ll send him through to have a word with you and your lady wife if you like.”
“Thank you. Please do.”
No one disturbed them in the coffee room as they ate their scones and drank their tea. Constance had just ordered another pot, despite feeling awash with the stuff, when a young, brown-haired man wandered in with a mug of ale in his hand. He had a guileless, friendly face and an eager expression, a bit like a labrador retriever.
“Mr. Grey?” he said amiably. “I hear you’re a friend of my father’s.”
“Ah. Not quite,” Solomon said under Constance’s amused gaze. “I think the innkeeper must have misunderstood me.”
“I’m the wrong Murray? Then I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
“No, we’re always glad of company,” Solomon said. “Please join us. My name is Grey. This is my wife. We’re guests of Lady Maule at The Willows.”
A look of curiosity entered Murray’s face. “You called on Dr. Laing earlier.”
“We did. You’ll have gathered we are trying to assist Sir Humphrey in discovering what happened to Miss Niall.”
“Good,” said Murray. With a bow, he sat down opposite Constance. “So you don’t believe this nonsense about his wife either?”
Constance smiled at him, which had its usual effect. “A fellow champion,” she said with honest delight.
Murray blushed. “Well, however grieved he is, Colonel Niall has no call throwing such accusations around.”
“Do other people believe in these accusations?” she asked.
Murray took a sip of ale and shook his head to her gestured offer of tea. “Some,” he said reluctantly. “It’s only because she’s a stranger and stepped out of her so-called place. Some country people believe everything should stay the same forever.”
“You don’t?” Solomon asked.
