Page 107 of A Whisper in the Shadows

Tilda’s heart squeezed. She hated that something which had given Maxwell joy may now be causing him distress. “He began feeling unwell in the middle of the night, and it’s not a mild illness. I wish we knew where those biscuits had come from.”

“Didn’t Mrs. Kilgore say they were delivered by a boy?”

Tilda nodded. “I’ll speak with her whilst you fetch Dr. Giles.”

First, Tilda checked on Maxwell and found him peacefully asleep. When she returned to the kitchen, she was surprised to find Mrs. Kilgore had prepared a plate of eggs and toast for her.

“You must be hungry,” Mrs. Kilgore said. “You didn’t eat at all last night.”

Tilda’s stomach growled in response. “I am, thank you.”

Mrs. Kilgore poured tea. “Don’t worry, this isn’t the medicinal brew I made for the inspector. This is his lordship’s blend.”

After taking a few bites, Tilda sipped her tea and looked at Mrs. Kilgore. “Do you recall anything about the boy who delivered the biscuits?”

“He was around ten or eleven, I’d say. He had freckles. Why?”

“Because I fear Inspector Maxwell has been poisoned and that the biscuits are the source.”

Mrs. Kilgore gasped. “I had no idea!”

“You wouldn’t have,” Tilda said gently. “I’m sure Maxwell didn’t taste anything wrong with the biscuits. If it’s arsenic, as I suspect, there wouldn’t be any strange flavor. Ravenhurst has gone to fetch Dr. Giles.”

“Thank goodness.” Mrs. Kilgore looked a bit pale. “Why would someone want to poison the inspector?” Her eyes rounded. “And his lordship! Do you think it’s to do with your investigation?”

“We are investigating the fraud, and it’s evident that Phelps and Eaton were responsible. Since they are both dead, they can’t poison anyone. Furthermore, no one is aware that we’re investigators, as far as I know.”

What if someone had discovered their true identities? Tilda wondered if Phelps’s or Eaton’s murderer could have sent the poisoned biscuits. Except that Nevill was in custody. But what if Tilda’s suspicion was correct and Nevill hadn’t killed Phelps? What if Phelps’s killer feared they were close to discovering their identity and tried to poison them? Tilda’s name hadn’t been on the card, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t eat the biscuits.

Mrs. Kilgore gave her a frank stare. “I’m no inspector, but it seems to me that you’ve been investigating the murders in addition to the fraud.” She lowered her voice, though there was no one to hear them talking. “I’ll tell you a secret. You’re a better investigator than some of the police inspectors.”

Tilda couldn’t help smiling. “Well, I’ll tellyoua secret. I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to solving murders. If someone is killed in my vicinity, I am bound to investigate.”

“I read about the Levitation Killer murders—you solved that case. You ought to work for the police. Except I know they wouldn’t hire you.” Mrs. Kilgore appeared disappointed by that.

“No, they won’t. I do sometimes work with an inspector at Scotland Yard. Unofficially,” Tilda added. “It’s been nice to have an official assignment with Inspector Maxwell.”

Mrs. Kilgore glanced toward the cupboard where he was resting. “He’s a good man and a fine inspector. The two of you seem to be well matched. As partners, I mean.”

“I’m distressed that he was poisoned,” Tilda said.

“The biscuits were for both of them,” Mrs. Kilgore said pensively, her brow creasing as she leaned on the worktable.

“And they were sent in congratulations, presumably because of their new appointments with the society.” Tilda tried to think of who all knew about the appointments—the Furniers, Nevill, Dr. Giles, and the Drapers. But why would any of them want to poison Maxwell and Hadrian?

“Perhaps it was an accident,” Mrs. Kilgore suggested. “I’ve heard of that happening when someone grabs the wrong ingredient.” She grimaced. “That would be awful. I’m not sure I could live with myself.”

A banging on the front door drew Tilda and Mrs. Kilgore to turn their heads toward the stairs. Tilda jumped up and ran to answer the summons.

Tilda opened the door to see Dr. Giles standing on the doorstep. She looked past him, but Hadrian was not present. “Where is Ha— Nigel?” In her agitation, she’d nearly used his real name.

“He went to meet with Draper and Furnier. I’m supposed to attend as well, but it sounds as though Mr. Harwood is quite ill.”

“Yes, please come in.” Tilda welcomed him inside and took his hat, which she placed on a hook. “He’s downstairs so he could be closer to the privy.”

Tilda led him to the kitchen and introduced her “sister.” Mrs. Kilgore explained Maxwell’s symptoms.

Dr. Giles frowned. “Mr. Beck said you suspected poison and that it may have been from some biscuits that were delivered from an anonymous source.”