“Fell.” Pringle carefully repacked his black bag. “There’s not a mark on her that can’t be accounted for by the fall, and none that looks like bruises from a man’s grip. At her age, there would be bruises.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the tiny body laid out on the chaise. “She was fragile and old, not long for this world in any case, but even so. While a man could easily have grabbed her and flung her down the stairs, he couldn’t have done it without leaving some trace.”
His gaze on Leonora, tidying a vase on a table beside the chaise, Tristan nodded. “That’s some small relief.”
Pringle snapped his bag closed, glanced at him as he straightened. “Possibly. But there’s still the question of why she was out of bed at that hour—somewhere in the small hours, say between one o’clock and three—and what so frightened her, and it was almost certainly fright, enough to make her faint.”
Tristan focused on Pringle. “You think she fainted?”
“I can’t prove it, but if I had to guess what happened…” Pringle waved at the chaos of the room. “She heard sounds from this, and came to see. She stood at the top of the stairs and peered down. And saw a man. Suddenly. Shock, faint, fall. And here we are.”
Tristan, gazing at the chaise and Leonora beyond it, said nothing for a moment, then he nodded, looked at Pringle, and offered his hand. “As you say—here we are. Thank you for coming.”
Pringle shook his hand, a grim smile flirting about his lips. “I thought leaving the army would mean a humdrum practice—with you and your friends about, at least I won’t be bored.”
With an exchange of smiles, they parted. Pringle left, closing the front door behind him.
Tristan walked around the back of the chaise to where Leonora stood, looking down at Miss Timmins. He put an arm around Leonora, lightly hugged.
She permitted it. Leaned into him for a moment. Her hands were tightly clasped. “She looks so peaceful.”
A moment passed, then she straightened and heaved a huge sigh. Brushed down her skirts and looked around. “So—a thief broke in and searched this room. Miss Timmins heard him and got out of bed to investigate. When the thief returned to the hall, she saw him, fainted, and fell…and died.”
When he said nothing, she turned to him. Searched his eyes. Frowned. ?
??What’s wrong with that as deduction? It’s perfectly logical.”
“Indeed.” He took her hand, turned to the door. “I suspect that’s precisely what we’re supposed to think.”
“Supposed to think?”
“You missed a few pertinent facts. One, there’s not a single window lock or door lock forced or unexpectedly left open. Both Jeremy and I checked. Two”—stepping into the hall, ushering her ahead of him, he glanced back into the parlor—“no self-respecting thief would leave a room like that. There’s no point, and especially at night, why risk the noise?”
Leonora frowned. “Is there a three?”
“No other room has been searched, nothing else in the house appears disturbed. Except”—holding the front door, he waved her ahead of him; she went out onto the porch, waited impatiently for him to lock the door and pocket the key.
“Well?” she demanded, linking her arm with his. “Except what?”
They started down the steps. His tone had grown much harder, much colder, much more distant when he replied, “Except for a few, very new, scrapes and cracks in the basement wall.”
Her eyes grew huge. “The wall shared with Number 14?”
He nodded.
Leonora glanced back toward the parlor windows. “So this was Mountford’s work?”
“I believe so. And he doesn’t want us to know.”
“What are we looking for?”
Leonora followed Tristan into the bedchamber Miss Timmins had used. They’d returned to Number 14 and broken the news to Humphrey, then gone to the kitchen to confirm for Daisy that her employer was indeed dead. Tristan had asked after relatives; Daisy hadn’t known of any. None had called in the six years she’d worked in Montrose Place.
Jeremy had taken on the task of making the necessary arrangements; together with Tristan, Leonora had returned to Number 16 to try to identify any relative.
“Letters, a will, notes from a solicitor—anything that might lead to a connection.” He pulled open the small drawer of the table by the bed. “It would be most unusual if she has absolutely no kin.”
“She never mentioned any.”