Page 59 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel

“You’re not interested in Mr. Armitage inthatway, I hope.”

Floyd set down his spoon too and regarded me from beneath a frown. “Cleo? Are you?”

I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried that I’d opened up another Pandora’s box. “No, of course not.”

“Good.” Flossy patted my arm.

“Why?” I pressed. “Is there something wrong with him?”

Flossy dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “Dearest Cleo, you are so terribly provincial. There’s nothing wrong with Mr. Armitage. He’s a perfectly fine fellow. But you can do better.”

I blew out a measured breath. She didn’t know about his previous conviction then. I glanced at Floyd, who was nodding along with his sister’s judgement. Neither of them knew. I wasn’t sure why I thought they might, when their father didn’t.

Mr. Hobart entered the dining room and had a quiet word in his nephew’s ear. He looked worried. No, not worried. Terrified. Both men left.

I waited a few moments before making my excuses and leaving too. I caught sight of both men stepping into the lift and giving John instructions to stop at the fourth floor. I picked up my skirts and raced up the stairs, pausing on the fourth-floor landing to catch my breath. I peeked around the corner and spotted them entering Uncle Ronald’s office. I could not see their faces, but a sense of dread washed over me.

My uncle was going to confront them about Mr. Armitage’s prior conviction, the very thing they’d killed Mrs. Warrick for. He could be in grave danger.

The door closed and I tiptoed closer, placing my ear to it. I had no trouble discerning what my uncle was saying. His booming voice could have blasted a hole in the door.

“I trusted you, Hobart! How could you do this to me?”

“Do what?” came Mr. Armitage’s voice, loud but not shouting.

“Lie to me!”

“Mr. Hobart would never lie to you, sir. He’s an honest man.”

“He isnothonest! He has been lying to me for years. Years!”

“Perhaps if you tell me—”

“Stop! Enough! Get out, both of you. You are both dismissed.”

My stomach plunged. I’d expected it but hoped it wouldn’t happen. Not yet. Not until we knew for certain whether they were murderers. I rested my hand on the doorknob but didn’t open it. I was a coward. To walk in now and tell them my theory would draw their ire to me, and that could prove very dangerous indeed. But my uncle was alone with them.

“Dismissed?” Mr. Armitage said. “From the hotel?”

“You will receive what you’re owed and not a penny more. Get your things and get out of my sight. Both of you.”

I could hear a quieter voice which I guessed to be that of Mr. Hobart, but I couldn’t discern what he was saying.

“Cleo?”

I jumped at Floyd’s voice, directly behind me. I hadn’t heard him approach.

“What are you doing?”

I put a finger to my lips as Mr. Armitage asked why they were being dismissed.

“Dismissed?” Floyd asked, having heard it too. “What the devil?” He pushed open the door and I stumbled forward into the room. “Father, what’s going on?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Mr. Armitage said with a scowl for Uncle Ronald. “What are we being dismissed for? What have we done wrong?”

My uncle pointed a finger at Mr. Hobart. The manager shrank back. He wasn’t a big man, but now he seemed even smaller as he cowered beneath my uncle’s wrath. He knew what this was about, and he knew he’d done the wrong thing.

“Your uncle lied to me when he employed you,” Uncle Ronald said darkly. “Don’t try to deny it. He already admitted it to me.”