“When do you expect her to return to Curry House?”
“Oh, I can’t tell you, Inspector. Now that her parents know Mr. Sackville was murdered, I dare say they wouldn’t like for her to come back at all.”
Did Treadles hear a note of relief in Mrs. Cornish’s voice? She had reasons to be concerned for her own respectability—it would not reflect well on her, as head of the staff, if it became known that Becky Birtle had conducted herself in a questionable manner. But was that Mrs. Cornish’s only worry?
“You asked earlier, Mrs. Cornish, why I’m inquiring after arsenic when Mr. Sackville died from an overdose of chloral. The answer is we have found arsenic in Mr. Sackville, indicating that someone has been poisoning him.”
Mrs. Cornish started violently. “No!”
Treadles went on. “That someone most likely had frequent access to him. Since Mr. Sackville was more or less a recluse, that limits the suspects to members of the household.”
“But—but what a horrible thought.”
“Unfortunately that is the case.”
“But he died of chloral. And no one in this house knows how to burgle two different doctors’ places.”
That was the puzzling part. But Treadles had learned, in his years as a detective, that those in service were a far more diverse lot than commonly presumed. It was not unheard of for the servant hall to harbor a few who had known the shadier side of life.
“It is what every housekeeper supposes—and hopes for—that those who serve under her are a meticulously law-abiding lot. But you do not know the background of everyone here, do you?”
Reluctantly Mrs. Cornish shook her head.
“Who in this household would wish Mr. Sackville harm?”
“No one!”
“You know that is not true: Someone under this roof very much wished the master harm. You are responsible for the running of the place. You should know of any domestic tension that had the potential to mutate and fester.”
Mrs. Cornish gripped her teacup with both hands. “Sir, you mustn’t think this house was a hotbed of ill will. It was nothing of the sort.”
“It would be a thoughtless poisoner who makes his hatred widely known. Have you observed subtler signs of discontent and resentment?”
“I’ve never had any complaints against Mr. Sackville. Becky thought him a fine gentleman. Jenny Price adored him. Mrs. Meek is new here and she’s anyway the cheerful sort, always a good word for everything and everyone.”
This did not sound to Treadles like a compliment, more the politeness of someone who could do with a bit less of that determined agreeableness.
“Tommy Dunn thought the sun rose and set on Mr. Sackville’s shoulders. And Mr. Hodges . . . Mr. Hodges holds his cards close to his chest.”
Treadles raised a brow but only waited.
Mrs. Cornish took a large gulp of her tea. “I used to think that he and Mr. Sackville rubbed along just fine. But last Christmas, when Tommy Dunn had the fob from the master and couldn’t stop taking out his watch to check the time, Mr. Hodges looked at him as if he were an idiot. I thought maybe he was a little jealous—Tommy Dunn had no reason to receive a gift almost as fine as the one he himself got.
“When Mrs. Meek came, she was impressed with everything. Mr. Hodges would have this stony look on his face when she and Tommy Dunn agreed on how fine the house was and what a grand gentleman the master was. One time he even got up and left the servants’ hall.”
Hodges, when called in to the drawing room to answer questions, immediately repudiated Mrs. Cornish’s claims. “Maybe I did roll my eyes at Tommy Dunn a few times, but only because it was bordering on unseemly, how often he showed off that watch fob. A grown man ought to know better. I left the servants’ hall that day after supper because it was about to rain and I remembered I’d left my window open a crack—I was back five minutes later. And it wasn’t Tommy Dunn Mrs. Meek was talking to at that time, it was Becky Birtle.”
A thought came to Treadles. “You are sure it wasn’t Miss Birtle speaking with Mr. Dunn?”
“As far as I could tell, those two had nothing to say to each other.”
This was odd. In a household full of older people, they were the only two youngsters. “Has it always been like that?”
“Not always. When Becky first arrived, she talked a good deal to Tommy Dunn. And he was helpful to her. But then it all changed. He used to stay after supper to hear us talk—never said much himself but wanted to listen, especially if we brought up places we’d been and sights we’d seen. Not long after Becky came, he stopped. Just left at the end of supper and went back to his own room.”
This fit with the supposition that Tommy Dunn had perhaps been sweet on Becky Birtle—and disappointed in his affection.
“Is there anything else you can tell us, Mr. Hodges, that might help us in our investigation?”