so much time trying to work out what an offered hand meant. Sometimes it meant nothing more than he was polite.
I met him in the hall as he buttoned up his jacket. He plucked a hat and coat off the stand and opened the front door for me.
“What did you tell your mother?” I asked.
“That I have something to tell my father that might help him solve the murder.”
“We’re going to Scotland Yard?”
“Without evidence?” He scoffed. “He won’t accept our theory without proof.”
“He won’t want us to confront Mr. Hookly.”
“We’re not going to. We’ll avoid him at all costs.” He turned up his coat collar and thrust his hands into his pockets. “We’ll find out if there’s any possibility that a key to Mrs. Warrick’s room could have gone missing on the night of the murder. Our entire theory hinges on Mr. Hookly stealing one.”
“The fake Mr. Hookly.” I quickened my step to keep up with his long strides as we walked along the street. “I wonder who he really is, and if he truly has just come back from Africa.”
“If he has, I doubt he just sold a diamond mine or he wouldn’t be trying to swindle everyone.”
“Gold,” I said.
“No, diamonds. That’s what he told me.”
I stopped. When he realized, he stopped too. “He hasn’t just come from Africa at all!” I said. “Otherwise he’d know that gold is mined in southern Africa, not diamonds.”
“How do you know?”
“I read about it in a book I borrowed from the hotel library.”
He smiled as we started walking again. “Your bloody visit to the library,” he muttered.
I glanced at him sideways. “What do you mean?”
He remained silent.
“Mr. Armitage, if you won’t answer, I’ll tell your mother that you just used a vulgar word in front of a lady.”
“I thought you were the silverware thief.”
I burst out laughing.
He smiled too, but with a measure of chagrin in the lopsided tilt of his lips. “I thought you were sneaking about in the sitting room. In hindsight, of course you couldn’t have been the thief. You didn’t arrive until after the thefts started.”
“Why would I steal from my own uncle?”
“I thought you liked to stir up trouble.”
I laughed again. “This is rich. You’ve been punishing me for accusing you when all this time, you suspected me of being a thief.”
“First of all, I’m not punishing you. Any guilt you feel is entirely of your own making. And perhaps my mother’s.”
“And your father’s. You have very loyal parents.”
“Second of all, I never actually accused you. Thirdly, you accused me of murder, Miss Fox. I merely thought you were a troublemaker. And finally, I lost my job thanks to your wild theory.”
“It might have been wild, but at least it wasn’t stupid.”
He shook his head and huffed out a breath. I wasn’t quite sure if he was amused or exasperated. Perhaps both.
The train journey followed by the hackney ride to the hotel felt long, with many awkward silences between us. Our easy banter turned polite and dull; he asked me about Cambridge and I asked him about London. We avoided sensitive topics of his childhood, my family, and where he was going to work next.
I was so relieved to see the hotel that I alighted from the carriage without waiting for Frank to open the door.
“Mr. Armitage!” the doorman said. “What’re you doing here, sir? And with Miss Fox, too…” His curious gaze shifted from me to Mr. Armitage and back again.
I simply smiled.
Mr. Armitage placed a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone. I came to see my uncle.”
“And I wish to see mine,” I said—and meant it. If Uncle Ronald was in a good mood because plans for the ball were going well, I would ask him again to reconsider hiring Mr. Armitage.
“Why do you need to see Sir Ronald?” Mr. Armitage asked as we entered the foyer. “If it’s because of me, I meant it the other day. I won’t accept my old position back, even if he begs me.”
“Oh,” I said on a breath. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
I turned around to take in all of the decorations in the foyer. A half dozen potted large ferns added some greenery, while garlands of fresh flowers and leaves brightened up the front of the counters and above doorways. A closer inspection revealed a string of small lightbulbs woven through each of the garlands. It would look marvelous as darkness fell.
“Isn’t it wonderful, Mr. Armitage?” I said again.
But he’d moved away. He was talking with Mr. Hobart