doorway.
Major Ramsey’s hand reached for his gun even as a surprised expression crossed Jerome Curtis’s face. “What the…”
“Stay where you are, Curtis,” the major said levelly, his gun pointing in that direction.
“What’s going on?” Jerome Curtis demanded. “What are all you people doing here?”
“Have a seat, will you?” the major said politely, even as he motioned with the gun toward the sofa.
Curtis looked angry enough to spit, but he did as he was directed. What else could he do? He glanced at me as he sat, and I offered him a vague smile.
“Now,” the major said. “Why don’t you tell us what you’re doing here.”
“This is Sir Nigel’s house,” Curtis said. “Sir Nigel Randolf. I work for him.”
“Yes, we know,” the major said. “The question is, why have you come tonight?”
“I’ve been staying here for two nights,” he said. “I’ve just come from dinner and a few drinks at a nightclub.”
If the scent of alcohol drifting off him was any indication, that part of his story was true.
“Are those your things upstairs?” I asked. “In the far bedroom?”
“Yes,” he said. “Sir Nigel sent me down here to keep an eye on things. He said he had the feeling that someone had been in his property.”
I recalled the bit of conversation I had overheard while the major and I were in Sir Nigel’s office. It seemed to confirm at least a portion of Jerome Curtis’s story.
“Who did he think had been here?” I asked.
Major Ramsey looked at me, and I had the sneaking suspicion he didn’t care for me butting into his interrogation. I ignored him, though, and focused on the sinister giant in front of me.
“Matthew Winthrop,” Curtis said. “Sir Nigel told me Winthrop made a joke to him at the party about having an inferior pottery collection. The only place Sir Nigel keeps his cheap goods is here.”
He nodded at the pottery that lined the walls, the pieces I had noticed earlier in the day.
“Sir Nigel had the feeling Winthrop might have been in the house, so he sent me down to take a look. Sir Nigel hasn’t been down here since his nephew was killed. Everyone knew that he was leaving the house empty, and there’s a spare key on the head of the front door.”
That would’ve been a handy thing to know, I thought.
“Someone had been here, all right,” Jerome Curtis went on. “I had a look around the place, and there were things missing. Silver and the like. Someone’s been stripping the valuables. Tried to pick the lock on a few of the cabinets, too, but couldn’t get in.”
I remembered the scratches on the steamer trunk lock in the first bedroom. And the neatly preserved items inside. Had Matthew Winthrop simply been looking for more valuables to steal, or was he involved in John Myron’s death?
“Did Winthrop kill Sir Nigel’s nephew?” I asked.
Curtis frowned. “No. Mr. Myron was in an accident in his car. Took a curve too fast on his way to London in the dark. Sir Nigel took it hard, had his nephew’s things packed up and hasn’t come back.”
I thought of the items in the trunk, not valuable but carefully preserved. It did not seem to me the work of a guilty man but rather a sentimental one. Was it possible that Sir Nigel’s nephew’s death had nothing to do with what we had discovered?
I glanced at Major Ramsey. Did he believe this story? For some reason, I was inclined to. I knew that several members of the collector’s club had been caught up in the scheme, and Sir Nigel had seemed like an obvious leader.
But Jerome Curtis, whatever else he might be, was no actor. I didn’t think he could have been faking the genuine surprise and confusion on his face when he had walked in to see us in the house. Besides, he reeked of cigarette smoke and cheap drink; he clearly hadn’t gotten that stench hovering in the woods nearby or waiting on the beach for spies.
“All right,” Major Ramsey said at last. He put his gun aside, and I supposed he’d come to the same conclusion that I had.
“You chaps haven’t answered my question,” Curtis said then, crossing his meaty arms over his chest. “What are you doing here?”
There was a moment of silence. I looked at the major, wondering what he would end up telling the man. I was a bit surprised when he came out with the truth.
“Catching traitors,” Major Ramsey said at last. “Matthew Winthrop came