William Monk 03 - Defend and Betray

a smile that conveyed both surprise and pity he granted it without argument. Apparently Louisa was out taking tea with someone or other, and Monk was glad of it. She was far more acute in her suspicion, and might well have hindered him.
    He began with the butler, a very composed individual well into his late sixties, with a broad nose and a tight, satisfied mouth.
    “Dinner was served at nine o’clock.” He was uncertain whether to add the “sir” or not. Precisely who was this person making enquiries? His master had been unclear.
    “Which staff were on duty?” Monk asked.
    The butler’s eyes opened wide to convey his surprise at such an ignorant question.
    “The kitchen and dining room staff, sir.” His voice implied “of course.”
    “How many?” Monk kept his patience with difficulty.
    “Myself and the two footmen,” the butler replied levelly. “The parlormaid and the downstairs maid who serves sometimes if we have company. In the kitchen there were the cook, two kitchen maids and a scullery maid—and the bootboy. He carries things if he’s needed and does the occasional errand.”
    “In all parts of the house?” Monk asked quickly.
    “That is not usually required,” the butler replied somberly.
    “And on this occasion?”
    “He was in disgrace, sent to the scullery.”
    “What time in the evening was that?” Monk persisted.
    “Long before the general’s death—about nine o’clock, I gather.”
    “That would be after the guests arrived,” Monk observed.
    “It would,” the butler agreed grimly.
    It was only idle curiosity which made him ask, “What happened?”
    “Stupid boy was carrying a pile of clean linen upstairs for one of the maids, who was busy, and he bumped into the general coming out of the cloakroom. Wasn’t looking where he was going, I suppose—daydreaming—and he dropped the whole lot. Then instead of apologizing and picking them up, like any sensible person, he just turned on his heel and fled. The laundress had a few hard words to say to him, I can promise you! He spent the rest of the evening in the scullery. Didn’t leave it.”
    “I see. What about the rest of the staff?”
    “The housekeeper was in her sitting room in the servants’ wing. The tweenies would be in their bedroom, the upstairs maids in theirs, the stillroom maid had an evening off to go and visit her mother, who’s been took poorly. Mrs. Furnival’s ladies’ maid would be upstairs and Mr. Furnival’s valet likewise.”
    “And the outside staff?”
    “Outside, sir.” The butler looked at him with open contempt.
    “They have no access to the house?”
    “No sir, they have no need.”
    Monk gritted his teeth. “And none of you heard the general fall onto the suit of armor, or the whole thing come crashing down?”
    The butler’s face paled, but his eyes were steady.
    “No sir. I already told the police person who enquired. We were about our duties, and they did not necessitate any of us coming through the hall. As you may have observed, the withdrawing room is to the rear of the house, and by that time dinner was well finished. We had no cause to pass in that direction.”
    “After dinner were you all in the kitchen or the pantry clearing away?”
    “Yes sir, naturally.”
    “No one left?”
    “What would anyone leave for? We had more than sufficient to keep us busy if we were to get to bed before one.”
    “Doing what, precisely?” It galled Monk to have to persist in the face of such dignified but subtly apparent scorn. But he would not explain to the man.
    Because his master had required it, the butler patiently answered these exceedingly tedious and foolish questions.
    “I saw to the silver and the wine, with the assistance of the first footman. The second footman tidied up the dining room and set everything straight ready for morning, and fetched more coal up in case it was required—”
    “The dining room.” Monk interrupted. “The second footman was in the dining room. Surely he would have heard the armor go over?”
    The butler flushed with annoyance. He had been caught out.
    “Yes sir, I suppose he would,” he said grudgingly. “If he’d been in the dining room when it happened.”
    “And you said he fetched up coal. Where from?”
    “The coal cellar, sir.”
    “Where is the door to it?”
    “Back of the scullery … sir.” The “sir” was heavy with irony.
    “Which rooms would he bring coal for?”
    “I …” The butler stopped. “I don’t