like what was happening to Mrs. Treadles.”
“Is there any chance that he was pretending to be Mrs. Treadles’s ally, but was in fact opposed to her presence?”
The incredulity on Miss Longstead’s face was complete. “No, that wouldn’t be like him at all. If he didn’t think Mrs. Treadles should be at Cousins, he would have told her so himself.”
At least Mrs. Treadles had been correct in thinking of him as an ally.
Lord Ingram exhaled. The relief he felt seemed out of all proportion with the confirmation he’d received. But Mrs. Treadles had already been cruelly disappointed by the men in her life and he desperately did not want Mr. Longstead to be yet another such man.
“He saw in her something of her late father,” said Miss Longstead with great conviction. “He thought the world of Mr. Cousins, who, even though he’d been a man of commerce, had possessed a generosity of spirit that he’d greatly admired. He felt that Mr. Cousins’s son hadn’t inherited those traits, but that Mrs. Treadles had in her an abundance of intelligence, sensitivity, and nobility of character, everything that was needed both to succeed in commerce and to not lose one’s soul along the way.
“He was very pleased when she asked him to be her adviser. He considered her a true heir to her father and looked forward to a renaissance at Cousins.” Tears once again filled her eyes. “Perhaps it will yet happen. Perhaps I will witness it for him.”
* * *
Mrs. Coltrane, the Longsteads’ housekeeper, showed Holmes and Lord Ingram the rest of 33 Cold Street, with Constable Lamb trailing in their wake, but keeping a respectful distance.
As Miss Longstead had said, all the other rooms in the house had been locked during the night of the murders. Mrs. Coltrane herself had unlocked them, when Inspector Brighton had come through to inspect the scene of the crime from top to bottom.
“Would you happen to know, Mrs. Coltrane, who all has keys to number 33?” asked Holmes.
“I have the entire set,” said Mrs. Coltrane, rattling the ring of keys in her hand. “Miss Longstead has keys to the front and back doors and the studio, as did Mr. Longstead.”
Holmes looked inside each room, to satisfy herself that the police hadn’t overlooked anything significant. As there were a number of rooms, the process took some time. Lord Ingram sometimes watched her work, and sometimes spoke to the others present. Constable Lamb was grateful that number 31 kept him supplied with tea, biscuits, and sandwiches. And Mrs. Coltrane told him that despite her own grief, Miss Longstead had gathered the staff, comforted them, and assured them that they didn’t need to fear for their employment.
When Holmes was finished with the last room on the floor just beneath the attic, she said to Mrs. Coltrane, “I understand that the police found the front door open. And Miss Longstead saw someone enter the house from the back at some point during the party.”
Mrs. Coltrane groaned. “Oh, dear. I won’t mind admitting it, Miss Holmes: That is mortifying. Mortifying. I don’t know how either instance could have happened. For number 33, I check the doors every day before dinner, after Miss Longstead comes home. Yesterday she never left home because there was so much to do, but still at about half past six I came and checked the doors here. They were all locked, front, back, and the service entrance, too.”
“You, Miss Longstead, and Mr. Longstead were the only ones with keys to number 33?”
“We were the only ones.”
“Do you have any thoughts as to why the door to the chief bedroom should have been open, when the other rooms remained locked?”
The chief bedroom was where the murders had taken place. If Mrs. Coltrane was the only one who could access the individual rooms, then even Mr. Longstead shouldn’t have been able to get into that bedroom.
Mrs. Coltrane groaned again. “It’s an absolute mystery to me, Miss Holmes. Miss Longstead walked past that bedroom every time she went to the top floor and she said that the door always appeared properly closed to her. I check the entire house once every week and can attest that I’ve had to unlock the room every single time.”
Holmes nodded. She was not the most energetic person, but could muster a great deal of stamina, if necessary. Lord Ingram, however, worried that she’d barely had any rest after their return from France.
Even a Sherlock-ian must weary from time to time.
The stairs that led