Page 28 of Solving Sophronia

Behind Mr. Smudgely, Miss Bremerton rolled her eyes.

Jonathan coughed, and using the excuse to turn quickly away from Mr. Smudgely, he widened his eyes at Miss Bremerton, sharing a look of amazement with her at the foolishness of their host. He turned back, adopting a thoughtful expression. “Do you have a list of attendees, Mr. Smudgely?”

“The Kingsclere Hunting Club hosted the event. They are the ones to whom you should speak about a guest list.” He shook his head as if success in acquiring such a list was not to be expected.

Jonathan opened his notebook. “What time was the event, sir?”

“An early dinner was served at six. But as I told you, it was very informal, as is often required during the Season. Men come and go as they are able with family and social commitments. Some arrive late; others leave early.” He shrugged. “The lecture began promptly at seven thirty.”

“How long did it last?” Jonathan asked as he noted the start time.

“An hour. But many of the men remained to speak with Mr. Baldwin after the formal lecture ended.”

“And are you hosting an event tonight?”

“No.”

Miss Bremerton moved away from Jonathan and Mr. Smudgely. She walked around the edges of the room, writing in her notebook. Or perhaps she was drawing. Jonathan was eager to hear her opinion on the interview as well as discuss theories.

“So tonight the hall will be minimally staffed.” Jonathan muttered the words, not expecting an answer. He walked through the lecture hall, tapping his hat against his thigh and picturing the room as it must have been on Monday night, filled with men listening to William Charles Baldwin speak about his African hunting tour.

“Where are these chairs stored when they’re not being used?” Jonathan asked.

“The cellar,” Mr. Smudgely said. “The lower level is for storage, the scullery, and the laundry.”

They would need to search that area as well as the kitchen and stables.

As Jonathan contemplated where to begin, a knock sounded at the assembly hall door, and a moment later Mr. Smudgely’s secretary entered the lecture hall, followed by four constables from H Division. Jonathan was pleased to see Merryweather among them.

The secretary gave a paper to Mr. Smudgely and left.

“If that is all,” Mr. Smudgely said, glancing at the paper, then handing it to Jonathan, “I am very busy.”

“One moment, if you please, sir.” Jonathan raised his voice as he tucked the secretary’s list into his notebook. “Miss Bremerton?”

She looked up from her notebook and crossed the room to join them.

“Have you any questions for Mr. Smudgely?”

The assembly hall’s manager pulled back, hardly hiding his surprise.

Miss Bremerton raised a brow, turning from Jonathan to the manager. “I do, as a matter of fact.” She held her pencil over the notebook page. “Mr. Smudgely, would you care to know how Mr. Lewis died?”

If Mr. Smudgely had appeared surprised earlier, that was nothing to the way he looked now. He opened and closed his mouth, staring at Jonathan as if hoping he might rein in his renegade assistant, who was clearly unaware of what things young ladies should speak of.

Jonathan ignored the man’s distressed look and crossed his arms, delighted to observe the interaction.

“You did not ask,” Miss Bremerton continued in a conversational tone. “I find it curious that you should learn of an employee’s murder, possibly in this very building, and not wonder at it.” She watched him, awaiting his reply.

Mr. Smudgely glanced at the constables near the door. “In this very building, you say?” His voice was hardly more than a whisper.

“That has yet to be determined.” Miss Bremerton shrugged. “You said yourself he was here Monday evening.” She wrote something in her notebook. “And you claim to have been here as well.”

“Claim?” Mr. Smudgely sputtered. “Miss, it would have been impossible for me to leave during such an event. Any number of people can vouch for my—”

“So you and Mr. Lewis were both here two evenings ago,” she cut in. “He is dead, and you did not seem at all curious about the manner in which he was killed.”

“Miss, your accusation is highly offensive. I have a mind to report this.” He looked again to Jonathan for assistance, but the detective had no intention of stopping the interrogation, nor did he know to whom the man might report Miss Bremerton. He clasped his hands behind his back, quite enjoying Mr. Smudgely’s squirming under the lady’s questioning.

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