Page 16
Maclean, who had carried on into the room, suddenly realized we weren’t following and turned to look at me.
Compassion glinted in his eyes, and that combined with Gage’s warm hand pressed to the small of my back caused a knot to form in my throat.
One I ruthlessly swallowed, blinking my eyes in refusal to give way to maudlin emotion.
I forced myself to take a single step forward and then another toward the constable who was stationed next to the entryway through which we’d escaped once the door had been broken down.
“Why dinna ye take a wee break,” Maclean told the man.
The policeman didn’t object, but he did eye us curiously as he departed.
“It seems ’twas fortunate a carpenter happened tae be passin’ by when the floor collapsed and heard the upheaval and the cries for help.
He’s the one who broke open this door and directed the others hoo tae break doon the other.
A physician who was here said he likely saved many lives wi’ his quickness, as the air inside was suffocatin’ wi’ debris.
” Maclean was speaking more than usual, and I strongly suspected he’d launched into this recitation to allow me time to acclimate to the spectacle in the chamber beyond.
It was indeed a horrific sight. Piles of rubbish—broken joists and rafters, and fragments of flooring—filled the space, all coated in a layer of the lime and dust that had settled.
Here and there, buried amid the wreckage, appeared furniture—a bookcase or the end of a sofa.
A desk near the middle of the room was littered with the remnants of a lamp.
In contrast, the far end of the room, above which the floor was still intact, appeared nearly untouched except for a fine coating of white dust.
Seeing the state of the room, I was struck anew by what a miracle it was that more people had not been seriously injured or killed.
The carpet had not been rolled up in this room, which I recalled was the study, and that had cushioned some of our falls, but it didn’t explain all of it.
Though the physician Maclean spoke of had undoubtedly been right.
If the doors had not been broken down so promptly, many victims might have succumbed to suffocation.
A fact Gage agreed with. “I can attest to that,” he told Maclean, standing solemnly at my side as we surveyed the rubble. I followed his gaze toward the ceiling, where a massive, jagged hole allowed us to peer up into the chamber above. “Is it safe to enter?”
The sergeant made a sound that was far from confident, causing us to look at him in question. “The room’s been searched, but late yesterday another small section o’ the ceilin’ fell in. So we’ve been instructed tae stay oot until the chamber can be shored up.”
Gage nodded, for neither of us was going to argue against such a caution. “How did the culprit access the joist to tamper with it?”
Maclean stepped closer, pointing toward the end wall at approximately the midway point of the hole. “We believe they cut a hole in the ceilin’ o’ the study tae access the joist. Which no one noticed because…”
“The study was locked,” I said along with him, having just recalled.
“Aye,” Maclean confirmed.
“Then the culprit must be someone who knows something about building construction,” Gage speculated, leaning his injured shoulder unconsciously against the doorframe, but then straightening again.
I swiveled to study the ceiling of the dining room. “That’s an excellent point.” It wasn’t everyone who would know how to go about sabotaging a floor joist. I certainly wouldn’t.
“Aye, but many would at least have some idea o’ hoo tae go aboot it,” Maclean cautioned.
“And we dinna ken what their original intentions were.” He scratched his chin, rustling the dark bristles.
“Maybe they merely had some vague notion o’ damagin’ the structure but stumbled across that knot that already existed in the beam and made use o’ it.
We just dinna ken. No’ yet. And before ye ask hoo they reached the ceilin’…
” He pointed toward a pile of broken wood.
“We found the remnants o’ a ladder beneath the rubble from above. ”
Gage nodded. “Then whatever damage was done, it must have been shortly before the incident. Otherwise, wouldn’t someone have noticed both the ladder and the hole in the plaster? Or did they never enter the study?”
I frowned. “Yes. Why was it kept locked?”
“Mr. Clerk insisted upon it. ’Tis where a number o’ his brother’s important papers were kept.
He also stored several furnishings there he didna wish damaged durin’ the auction.
” He dipped his head toward the clutter behind us.
“But the auctioneer also deposited a few o’ the more valuable pictures wi’in ’til they could be put up for bid.
The last time anyone admits tae enterin’ the chamber was the evenin’ before the incident, and both o’ Mr. Winstanley’s assistants swear nothin’ was oot o’ place. ”
“So the tampering must have occurred overnight or the following morning before anyone arrived.”
“Or at least before the doors were opened to patrons.” Gage amended my statement.
“It is possible that someone slipped into the study while others were in the building and sabotaged the joist without anyone realizing. Though their chances of escaping discovery decrease dramatically. Even so, we should ascertain whether anyone saw someone entering or leaving the study that day.”
“Furtively,” Maclean warned, reminding us we weren’t supposed to reveal that the collapse wasn’t accidental.
Gage’s brow tightened with annoyance. “We might not be able to control the fact that our reputations precede us, but you know perfectly well that we’re always circumspect.”
The sergeant’s grunted reply was neither confirmation nor denial, but I spoke before Gage could presume either way.
“What of the footmen?” I asked, glancing back through the doorway that led into the entry hall. “I suppose you’ve already questioned them.”
“Aye. Mr. Clerk’s solicitor directed us tae the employment agency he used tae hire them. My men are trackin’ them doon noo.”
The sound of creaking overhead made my pulse jump as my gaze jerked up toward the ceiling warily.
“?’Tis footsteps,” Maclean assured me, having noted my reaction. “The auctioneer and his assistants are still storin’ some items upstairs in the front drawin’ room and rear adjoinin’ chamber.”
“And it’s safe?” I demanded to know.
Maclean used a measured tone. “Aye. The only floor compromised was the one o’er the back drawin’ room.”
I nodded, though residual alarm still flooded my veins, making me want to flee. Maclean led us back to the entry hall and then turned right toward the staircase. However, Gage halted midstride before we’d reached the first riser. I peered around his shoulder to see why.
The petticoat table against the wall was piled high with various articles—hats, reticules, umbrellas, walking sticks, a pair of silver spectacles, a pencil case, and even a tattered black veil which had undoubtedly been torn from one of the other unfortunate female victims. There were also a number of crumpled and torn copies of the auction catalog, discarded just as I’d dropped mine.
“Are these from…?” Gage’s voice faltered midsentence.
Maclean turned to see what he was referring to and then rejoined us. “Aye. Least what we’d gathered from amidst the debris before we were ordered tae stop ’til the structure could be reassessed. The more valuable items were taken tae the police house for safekeepin’.”
“Such as?” Gage seemed to ask idly as he lifted one of the hats.
“Pocketbooks, watches, a couple of snuffboxes.” He paused to watch Gage lift another similar-looking hat. “If any o’ those things are yours, you’re free tae take them.”
None of the bonnets looked like the chapeau I’d been wearing that day, but as my husband continued to sort through the headwear, I spotted my beaded reticule. A peek inside showed that my fan, coin purse, handkerchief, and small etuis fitted with writing implements were still tucked within.
Gage eventually located his hat, but discovering it crushed, the top torn, he dropped it back on the table. “I’m afraid this is bound for the rubbish bin.”
I tried not to blanch at the damage, reminding myself it must have occurred after it was knocked from his head, but it was still a tangible representation of how much worse our injuries could have been.
How much worse they could have been for the eighty or more people who had fallen.
How much worse they had been for Mr. Smith.
Table of Contents
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