you’re up against Mr. Laybourne going to bed early, dosed with laudanum.”
“Unless he only pretended to drink it. Or, he paid a visit to Warrilow earlier, long before he went to bed, and killed Warrilow then. Perhaps telling Mrs. Beadle when he came downstairs that Warrilow said he’d go early to bed and didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“Then Mr. Laybourne drinks the laudanum to put himself hard to sleep so he can’t possibly be accused of killing the man.” Brewster rubbed his nose. “A bit far-fetched.”
“We can clear it up easily.” I rapped on the door of Warrilow’s lodgings.
Mrs. Beadle opened it promptly. “Oh, it’s you again, Captain. I’m sorry, love, I’ve let the room and can’t let you search it no more. I need to make a living, you know.”
“I have no intention of disturbing you at all, madam.” I gave her a bow. “I only wanted to ask you—did a Mr. Laybourne visit Mr. Warrilow the night he died?”
“Thin little man with a face like he’d eaten a lemon? Oh, aye, he were here. But much earlier than your Major Eden. I’d say about six o’clock or so.”
“And he spoke to Mr. Warrilow?”
“I suppose so. I sent him up. Came down not long later and went off.”
“Did he mention that Warrilow was going to bed? Or did not wish to be disturbed?”
“He said nothing at all, love. I heard the door bang and then spied the small man speeding off down the street in a pique, fists balled.”
“After that, did you see Warrilow?” I asked.
“Didn’t see him, but he called for some coffee, which me grandson carried up to him. Heard him growling when he took the cup. Not a patient man, was Warrilow.”
So Laybourne had been here, but he’d left Warrilow alive. So much for my theory.
“Is your grandson about, Mrs. Beadle? I want to ask him about that night, if it is all right with you.”
“The lad is here, as it happens, and he’ll answer you. He’s a bright boy. Come in out of the damp, and I’ll fetch him.”
CHAPTER 15
A s we stepped inside the boarding house, I was struck anew by the difference between it and Laybourne’s lodgings. The house was no longer lavish, but its polished banisters and scrubbed floors shone with care and pride.
Mrs. Beadle left us in the hall while she hurried toward the back. I glanced inside a room to my right and found a pleasant if sparsely furnished sitting room. The ceilings were as high as those in White’s, the plastered decorations once as luxurious. Time and chance had let this house and area recede into faded respectability while White’s was at the relative height of its grandeur.
Mrs. Beadle returned quickly. “He’s in the yard.” She waved her hand at a rear door, the top half filled with a windowpane, through which we could see a small space with a gray wall. “Too muddy to come in without a good bath. Perhaps another time?”
“We would be happy to speak to him outside,” I said. “And save your floors.”
Mrs. Beadle sent me a good-natured smile. “I could get him cleaned up for tomorrow…”
“No, no.” Tomorrow was Friday and too near the time Donata would load me into the carriage and steer me out of Town. “I don’t mind a little mud. When I was in the cavalry, I fell into it plenty.”
Mrs. Beadle conceded and led us out the door into a small yard. I glanced at the garden wall to see it was indeed as high and thick as Brewster had mentioned. I also could not swear to which of the buildings towering over the other side housed Laybourne.
A small figure, liberally plastered with thick mud, waited in the drizzle. He stood stoically, hat, coat, breeches, and boots covered in muck as well as his hands and much of his face. He had scraped mud from his eyes, revealing two pale ovals of skin.
“This is Captain Lacey, Harry,” Mrs. Beadle said. “You mind your manners and answer any questions he asks you.”
She closed the door but hovered on the other side of it, watching through the glass. A wise woman to not let her grandson alone with two strange men.
I was sorry she had spoken so sternly to him, however, as Harry, about ten summers if I was to judge, looked up at me with trepidation in his brown eyes. I was usually good with boys, but he watched me in dislike.
“Good morning, Harry.” I extended a hand. “Captain