I took it from him and peered closely. ‘It is completely dry and I can see no sign of blood at all. Unlike a metal blade the ivory would, surely, have trapped some in the tiny indentations. Does it always live in there?’
Adrien nodded. ‘Cousin Henry disliked having anything cluttering up the working surface.’
‘A pity. That would have been useful, to identify the weapon so early,’ Luc said. He tested it with his finger. ‘No, that’s not sharp enough. In the absence of anything immediately obvious, I suggest we interview the butler before anyone else does and he begins to elaborate on his story.’
James nodded. ‘And adds things he did not actually recall.’
Footmen were despatched with messages to the various officials and we
steered the butler into the front room.
‘Grainger, is it not?’ Luc asked.
‘Yes, my lord.’ He stood in front of us, pale-faced and looking as anxious as might be expected of someone whose employer was lying murdered in the next room.
‘How long have you been with the household?’
‘I have been with Lord Tillingham for just over a year,’ he said, readily enough. ‘Ever since he inherited the title, that is. I was his late father’s first footman and his lordship most kindly offered me the post when Mr Claridge, the previous butler, wished to retire.’
That burst of explanation seemed to have exhausted him and he stood staring blankly over Luc’s shoulder.
‘The Viscount was an easy man to work for?’ I asked and he jumped, as though he had forgotten my presence.
‘Yes, ma’am. In his way. He was always clear about what he expected and his standards were high. Firm but fair, you could say. Never any shows of temper. I would describe him as very even in his mood.’ He paused and I could see he was chewing the inside of his cheek as though trying to control something that wanted to be said.
‘Go on,’ I encouraged. ‘Anything you can tell us will be helpful in catching Lord Tillingham’s murderer.’
‘He had no humour about him,’ Grainger said slowly, as though trying to analyse his late employer for the first time.
‘Ponderous?’ Luc suggested.
‘That would be the word, my lord. Everything had to be just so and if it were not, he would explain, very calmly, how things should be.’ He hesitated, as though recalling something. ‘Even if someone became agitated and spoke loudly, he would answer very evenly, but firm-like. One knew where one was with him, I must say,’ he added, with the air of a man grasping at something positive to say.
‘Any members of the staff holding a grudge?’ Luc asked. ‘Someone who had been found wanting and lectured on the subject, or who’d had wages docked? Anyone serving out their notice or recently dismissed?’
‘Nobody except Campbell the third footman. He left yesterday. He was mimicking his lordship and Lord Tillingham overheard him. Dismissed him on the spot. Said it was not for the mockery, because a gentleman must learn to take criticism from whatever quarter it came, but because it was a Sunday and he would not have frivolity on the Sabbath. Besides, drink had been taken and Campbell was decidedly the worse for it. I persuaded his lordship to give him a week and he gave him another week’s wages in lieu of notice, but no character. Campbell will have trouble finding another place without references,’ Grainger added in a voice of gloom.
I was making unobtrusive notes and looked up hopefully. This sounded like a man with a motive for revenge. ‘Where has he gone? Do you have an address?’
‘I regret not, ma’am. He left very early this morning without a word to anyone, when by rights he should have worked today as well. I wasn’t surprised, to tell you the truth. Last night in the servants’ hall he was very bitter. I had to speak firmly to him.’
‘Uttering threats?’
‘Difficult to say, my lord. When he was agitated his accent became exceedingly broad. He’s a North Briton, you understand. Angus Campbell, his name is.’
North Briton? That was what they often called Scotland, I remembered, noting Campbell’s full name.
‘Were there any visitors last night?’ Luc asked.
‘Only my lord’s uncle, at about eleven o’clock,’ Grainger said, apparently unaware that he had just dropped a bombshell. ‘Mr Alexander Prescott, that is.’
‘And you saw Lord Tillingham then? You presumably brought in refreshments.’
‘Well, no, my lord. I would not unless Lord Tillingham rang. Mr Alexander arrived and said he’d had a message that Lord Tillingham required his presence. He went through to the study without me announcing him, as was his habit. He left again just as the hall clock struck half past the hour. He seemed… not angry, my lord. More put out, I would say.’ He screwed up his face with the effort of finding the right words. ‘Tight-lipped.’
‘And Mr Alexander is Mr Adrien Prescott’s uncle?’
‘No, my lord. His father.’