But I’ll admit I slipped down to the cellar the next morning. But there, it was all just as usual and nothing disturbed and no digging been done — and I went and told Lily she’d just been making a fool of herself, but she stuck to it as the master had done her in. ‘Remember,’ she says, ‘she was scared to death of him. I heard her telling him so.’ ‘And that’s just where you’re wrong, my girl,’ I said, ‘because it wasn’t the master at all. Just after you’d told me, that day, I looked out of the window and there was the master coming down the hill with his golf-clubs, so it couldn’t have been him who was with the mistress in the drawing-room. It was someone else.’ ‘ The words echoed lingeringly in the comfortable commonplace sitting-room.
Giles said softly under his breath, “It was someone else…w
15 AN ADDRESS
THE Royal Clarence was the oldest hotel in the town. It had a mellow bow-fronted facade and an oldworld atmosphere. It still catered for the type of family who came for a month to the seaside.
Miss Narracott who presided behind the reception desk was a full-bosomed lady of forty-seven with an old-fashioned style ofhairdressing.
She unbent to Giles whom her accurate eye summed up as “one of our nice people”.
And Giles, who had a ready tongue and a persuasive way with him when he liked, spun a very good tale. He had a bet on with his wife — about her godmother — and whether she had stayed at the Royal Clarence eighteen years ago. His wife had said that they could never settle the dispute because of course all the old registers would be thrown away by this time, but he had said Nonsense. An establishment like the Royal Clarence would keep its registers. They must go back for a hundred years.
“Well, not quite that, Mr. Reed. But we do keep all our old Visitors’ Books as we prefer to call them. Very interesting names in them, too. Why, the King stayed here once when he was Prince of Wales, and Princess Adiemar of HolsteinRotz used to come every winter with her ladyin-waiting.
And we’ve had some very famous novelists, too, and Mr. Dovery, the portrait painter.” Giles responded in suitable fashion with interest and respect and in due course the sacred volume for the year in question was brought out and exhibited to him.
Having first had various illustrious names pointed out to him, he turned the pages to the month of August.
Yes, here surely was the entry he was seeking.
Major and Mrs. Setoun Erskine, Anstell Manor, Daith, Northumberland, July 2yth — August lyth.
“If I may copy this out?” “Of course, Mr. Reed. Paper and ink– Oh, you have your pen. Excuse me, I must just go back to the outer office.” She left him with the open book, and Giles set to work.
On his return to Hillside he found Gwenda in the garden, bending over the herbaceous border.
She straightened herself and gave him a quick glance of interrogation.
“Any luck?” “Yes, I think this must be it.” Gwenda said softly, reading the words: “Anstell Manor, Daith, Northumberland.
Yes, Edith Pagett said Northumberland.
I wonder if they’re still living there — ” “We’ll have to go and see.” “Yes — yes, it would be better to go — when?” “As soon as possible. Tomorrow? We’ll take the car and drive up. It will show you a little more of England.” “Suppose they’re dead — or gone away and somebody else is living there?” Giles shrugged his shoulders.
“Then we come back and go on with our other leads. I’ve written to Kennedy, by the way, and asked him if he’ll send me those letters Helen wrote after she went away — if he’s still got them — and a specimen of her handwriting.”” “I wish,” said Gwenda, “that we could get in touch with the other servant — with Lily — the one who put the bow on Thomas — ” “Funny your suddenly remembering that, Gwenda.” “Yes, wasn’t it? I remember Tommy, too. He was black with white patches and he had three lovely kittens.” “What? Thomas?” ‘Well, he was called Thomas — but actually he turned out to be Thomasina.