Page 100 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
Chapter 14
They congregated on the narrow pavement outside Number 16, Adam Street. Gray hung back with Izzy, Hennessy, Donaldson, and Digby as Baines, supported by Littlejohn, knocked on the door.
A middle-aged woman, gray-haired and neatly dressed in a rather severe gown, opened the door.
“Police, ma’am.” Baines held up his badge. “We’re looking for a Mr. Henry Duvall.”
The woman looked surprised, but readily replied, “He’s not here, Officer. He works at the Board of Trade, you know. He would have left this morning. I don’t keep tabs on when my gentlemen come and go, but he often works on Saturday.”
“Not today, ma’am. We’ve just come from his office.”
“Oh. I see. Well, no doubt he’s out and about with his friends, as you might expect of a man his age.” She’d noticed the rest of their company lined up by the curb and was growing increasingly curious.
Baines’s shoulders lowered, and he touched the brim of his hat. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Gray and Izzy exchanged startled looks, then Gray stepped forward. “Inspector, as we are here and Duvall is not, it might be wise to search his rooms.”
Baines’s face cleared. He shook his head at himself. “Not used to chasing this sort of villain,” he muttered, then turned to the landlady. “If we might trouble you to show us his room, ma’am, we’ll just take a quick look.”
The landlady hesitated, but now-rampant curiosity triumphed. “Yes, of course.” She swung around. “Follow me.”
Baines glanced at Hennessy, Donaldson, and Digby. “You lot better stay there.”
Gray was a trifle surprised when all three readily agreed. He trailed Izzy as she followed Baines and Littlejohn up a narrow stair to the first floor. One of four small apartments, Duvall’s domain filled the front right corner.
The landlady unlocked the door and stood back. “You don’t need me, do you?”
Baines assured her they could manage without her, and once the four of them had filed into the room, she quickly went back down the stairs.
They spread through the two rooms—a small sitting room with an even smaller bedroom off it, with a bathing alcove in one curtained-off corner. Littlejohn followed Izzy into the bedroom, while Baines went straight to the desk against the front wall.
Gray spotted the notices and invitations on the mantelpiece above the small grate. He quickly looked through them, but found nothing of interest.
He looked around, but the sparse furniture held little prospect of any useful, hidden information. He glanced out of the window and saw Hennessy, below, notebook in hand, chatting avidly to the landlady. Donaldson and Digby were across the street, setting up to take the woman’s photograph before the door of her house.
Gray couldn’t help but smile. Clearly, Hennessy wasn’t one to miss an opportunity to collect background color for his story.
Izzy and Littlejohn reappeared. “Nothing noteworthy in the bedroom,” Littlejohn reported.
“Except,” Izzy said, “for the quality of his clothes, which is rather remarkable for a lowly undersecretary.”
Bending over the desk drawer, Baines huffed. “That fits with what’s here—nothing but tailor’s bills. Startling amounts, too.”
Gray frowned. “Let me see.”
Baines held out a stack of rumpled papers.
Gray took them and quickly scanned them.
Izzy came to stand by his shoulder.
He handed the stack to her. “If these are any indication, he was definitely living well beyond his means, especially for one who, according to Hennessy, is deep in debt.”
Baines sniffed. “If he’s being paid by foreigners, we’re unlikely to be able to trace it.”
Izzy handed the bills back, and Gray crossed to the desk and dropped them back in the drawer, which Baines had left open.
Looking down, Gray shut the drawer and froze.
