Page 48 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel

“I’m quite sure he’ll see his account settled. He wouldn’t want his name blacklisted altogether.”

“But why stay here at all? If he must be in London at this time, why not stay somewhere more affordable?”

“I suspect he wants to attend the ball. Mr. Duffield is unmarried, you see, and the New Year’s Eve ball at The Mayfair attracts a particular caliber of guest. He could find himself a wife amongst them.”

“You mean a wealthy wife.”

He gave me a knowing smile.

Thatwas why he accepted my impromptu invitation to dinner, and also why he abandoned me just as readily. He must have asked Mr. Chapman about me, and the steward informed him that I was a poor relation. Although I wasn’t quite sure how Mr. Chapman knew.

“May I ask why you followed Mr. Duffield into the office ofThe Evening News?” Mr. Hobart asked.

“I know my uncle doesn’t want the police to question the guests about the murder, and I felt that directive too limiting, so I decided to follow Mr. Duffield when I saw him leave this morning.”

His lips twitched. It would seem my attempts at investigation amused him. “If my brother thinks the guests ought to be questioned, he will do it, directive or no directive.”

“Oh. Well, that is a relief.”

“But why Mr. Duffield? Why not one of the other guests?”

“He struck me as suspicious. He wears old clothes yet he stays at a luxury hotel. I found it odd.”

“Your investigative skills are excellent,” he said. “My brother would be impressed.”

“Will you inform him of what I told you about Mr. Duffield?”

“If it becomes relevant, but I don’t see how Mr. Duffield’s tendency to gossip could be linked to Mrs. Warrick’s murder. For now, I will tell only Sir Ronald.”

“I do think you ought to tell the detective inspector. Let him decide if it’s important enough to question Mr. Duffield about the murder. Perhaps he can find a link between him and Mrs. Warrick. Perhaps she knew him.”

“Perhaps she did.” He gave me a wan smile. I suspected he was still thinking about informing my uncle of Mr. Duffield’s betrayal, and wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Would you mind if I told Uncle Ronald about the source of the information for that nasty article?” I asked. “It is my information to pass on, after all. I can’t let you have all the accolades.”

“I’ll tell him it came from you.”

I winked and he chuckled at his misunderstanding my intention. “I would be grateful if you informed him. Perhaps he won’t be so eager to berate the messenger if the message is delivered by his favorite niece.”

“Considering I’m his only niece, there is no contest. Does he have a temper?”

He hesitated and was saved from answering by the arrival of Mrs. Kettering.

I headed upstairs and knocked on my uncle’s office door. He bade me to enter, but did not look up from his desk. “What is it?” he asked.

“I wanted to tell you something that I learned about one of the guests,” I said.

“Cleo! I am sorry, I thought it was Hobart. Please, sit. Would you like some tea?” He pointed at a teapot and cups on a tray on the sideboard next to the decanter.

He looked harried, his eyes tired. A stack of newspapers made a tower on the corner of his desk. Beside the stack was a folded copy ofThe Evening News.

“That would be lovely,” I said. “Don’t get up. I’ll pour.” I was parched after my brisk walks to and from Fleet Street. I handed Uncle Ronald a cup and sat with my own.

“You look as though you needed that,” he said after I took a large gulp.

“I’ve been out and about.” I took another sip then put the cup on the desk. “Indeed, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I paid a visit to the office ofThe Evening News.”

“Filthy rag,” he muttered into his cup.