9308-3953

translated by Miss Hoffman, is utterly tainted, no matter how inclined Trevor might be to give the
woman the benefit of the doubt. Felix will be a far more objective translator.”
“That is not what worries me,’ Geraldine said. “Yes, it is all quite fine for us to talk to
the servants a second time and yes, Felix is well-suited for the task. It is your plan to meet them at the
Weaver house that raises the stakes, to use a phrase my nephew Cecil would always say. I do not
think Trevor would like the idea of the two of us traipsing through a crime scene unattended.”
“Then we shall take care not to traipse,” said Emma, busily scribbling a note as she
spoke. “And neither shall we cavort, sashay, nor flounce. Meeting in the Weaver home makes
complete sense, Gerry, which you know as well as I do. This way the three servants can not merely
talk us through the morning routine of the household, they shall also act it out for our benefit, including
the business about this mysterious empty drawer which Davy suspects once held Rose Weaver’s
medication. We have an address for Felix and he doubtlessly knows where we might find the women,
so we shall send Mrs. Tucker’s driver to round them up and take them back to the Weaver house.
Both Rayley and Davy claim it stands quite open for inspection.”
“The idea is sound,” Gerry said. “But that isn’t the point. Trevor would not want us to
proceed without one of the men with us. He has said as much to me many times, that you and I are not
to take matters into our own hands in a situation which may be dangerous.”
“The men have scattered,” Emma said, folding the note and copying Felix’s address on
the outside of an envelope. “Heaven knows when they shall return and this is something useful we
can do in the meantime. Besides, I scarcely think investigating a kitchen counts as danger.” She
paused to look up at Geraldine curiously. “I have never known you to hesitate to act without male
protection. What is behind all this?”
“Trevor already thinks I am too old and frail for these journeys,” Geraldine said
fretfully. “If I disobey one of his direct orders, he shall cast me from the Murder Games Club
entirely.”
“Do not be ridiculous, Gerry,” Emma said, cramming the note inside the envelope.
“Trevor would never sack you, no matter what you did. You’re the money.”
***
The Byculla Club
9:20 AM
Tom found the library much as he expected it – a long, dark-paneled room with more
sporting trophies than books lining the shelves. The worn Oriental rug was dotted with chairs, each
of which held an elderly man with his nose thrust in a paper. One of the heads sticking out from one
of the papers displayed a wild tuff of silver hair protruding from a bald scalp, making its owner look
much like a molting cockatoo. Tom approached with confidence.
“Doctor Tufts?”
The man looked up from his reading. The financial section, Tom noted, glancing down.
A London paper and God knows how out of date.
“My name is Tom Bainbridge,” Tom said, holding out his palm. “Recently traveled from
England with my aunt, who is now unfortunately taken ill so I –“
“I know who you are, young man,” said the doctor, rattling his paper in lieu of a
handshake. “We met just two nights ago and yesterday afternoon you were here at the club on your
hands and knees, going through that great mass of wire in the dining room.”
“Indeed,” said Tom. “Please forgive me. I met so many people on that eventful evening.”