Page 90 of Murder of a Dead Man

“If I might explain,” Cecilia said.

“Please do or I’m afraid this interview will go on far too long.”

“Mr. Montgomery acted as her tutor, as Camden House is not set up for the care and education of children, is that not correct, Dr. Worcham?” Cecilia said.

Dr. Worcham cleared his throat with a reluctant, “Yes.”

“What’s wrong with her? Why is she here?”

“That’s not relevant to your line of questions,” Dr. Worcham broke in.

Squire Eccleston looked back at him, then at Liddy. “When did you leave Mr. Montgomery’s side.”

“We heard Ratman yelling for him.”

“Who is this Ratman?” the magistrate interrupted.

Liddy huffed but pointed at Mr. Ratcliffe. “Him,” she said and continued. “And then curfew bell rang. Mr. Montgomery told me to go back to the house through his room.”

“His room?” questioned the magistrate, turning to Dr. Worcham.

“Mr. Montgomery had a ground-floor room that has a door directly to the outside,” Dr. Worcham explained.

The magistrate nodded then looked back at Liddy. “Why did he tell you to go that way?”

“So I wouldn’t get in trouble for being out so late,” Liddy said in an exasperated tone.

Cecilia repressed a laugh at Liddy’s attitude for what she thought was an obvious reason.

“Then I heard Ratman yell again,” she said, “and he sounded mad. I knew that would make Archie come out. I ran and hid behind the bushes outside Mr. Montgomery’s room.”

“Who is Archie?” Squire Eccleston asked, turning toward the other men.

Mr. Ratcliffe laughed. “My cousin’s play acting.”

“Is not,” Liddy said hotly. “He lived in Mr. Montgomery. He and Gregory. They took care of him.”

“What?” the magistrate asked, looking to the gentlemen beside him.

“All a farce,” Mr. Ratcliffe insisted.

“No-o-o,” Dr. Worcham said slowly. “They were all manifestation of Malcolm. Each handled different stresses in hislife. They were why he felt safer living here. He could not control them and so felt better in a structured living situation.”

“He’d get delusional, that’s all,” Mr. Ratcliffe said.

“He was also a thief,” Mr. Turnbull-Minchin said.

“How so, sir?” the magistrate asked, his brow furrowed.

“He kept coming into the estate office and stealing things like records and account books, things he couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Why do you say that, Mr. Turnbull-Minchin?” Dr. Worcham asked.

“Stands to reason. Never looked you in the eye and creeping about quiet like. One day I found him in the estate office, pawing through old records. Nothing of interest in an old account book but records of a previous year’s activity. He was a crazy man, and that is why he was here.”

“Whether he was crazy or not, is not the issue here,” the magistrate said repressively. “Miss Wingate, please continue telling us what happened.”

“I heard Dr. Worcham and Mr. Turnbull-Minchin call for both Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Ratcliffe. Mr. Ratcliffe swung at Mr. Montgomery, and he fell down. When Mr. Montgomery got up it wasn’t Mr. Montgomery, it was Archie. He was hitting and hitting Mr. Ratcliffe. Mr. Worcham tried to get Archie to stop, pulling at him. Then I heard Mr. Montgomery cry out. That scared me so I ran inside.”