Part 3

A beam of light came through the maintenance keyhole in the ceiling and illuminated the slate shingles. Bellamy hid behind an old wooden partition. He had a clear view of the door and every corner of the attic. Mr. Fletcher prepared a picnic basket of sandwiches and coffee. Bellamy sat quietly and listened to people mumbling and shuffling on the ground floor. Then someone turned off the lights. Bellamy’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. Only a sliver of moonlight entered through the broken window shutters. The house went quiet. He drank the coffee. In the profound silence, he heard the wood creak and gentle thuds coming from below.

At midnight, the clock mechanism snapped loudly, followed by a winding whirr, and the grandfather clock struck midnight. Twelve measured beats and chimes resonated through the house. Silence returned. Apart from a few timbers creaking in the wind, Bellamy heard nothing. Then the scratching began. Metal clinked and scraped as though someone were forcing a lock with the wrong key. The pattern continued for several minutes: gentle at first, then frenzied, then silent, before beginning again. “Scraping with a purpose,” he remembered Lady Pembroke saying. The noise was not coming from the attic. It was coming from below.

He made his way toward the hole in the ceiling keyhole. The hallway was dark. The moon illuminated the staircase. He saw light under her Ladyship’s door on the ground floor. Then he saw a shadow blocking the grandfather clock. He observed. The shadow moved, and Bellamy heard gentle clanking and scratching.

Lady Pembroke opened her bedroom door. The shadow swiftly abandoned the clock and disappeared down the hall.

“Who is there?” she shouted.

She listened for a moment as did Bellamy. There was a thud, distant and subdued, but present, nevertheless. Lady Pembroke shook her head and disappeared into her bedroom.

Bellamy crept down the narrow attic staircase, passed the clock, and followed the hall to the place where the final thud had sounded. Using the master key Mr. Fletcher had entrusted to him, he quietly opened Lady Pembroke’s boudoir, switched on the light, and inspected the room. The dust was slowly settling on dust sheets covering Lady Pembroke’s bed, chairs, armoire, and make-up table. The room was well kept, and the air was fresh. He inspected the large wardrobe against the wall. He opened the door. The air inside the wardrobe was damp and cold. The clothes inside hung wrapped in silk garment covers. The clothes were well organized. All, except one long coat in the centre. Its bottom was flung toward the back wall of the wardrobe. Bellamy smiled, corrected it, and shut the door.

Before leaving the estate unnoticed, Bellamy placed a sealed note on the table in the morning room.

Dear Lady Pembroke,

I wish you would accompany me on a little adventure tonight at half past eleven. Please wait for me in your boudoir on the first floor. Tell no one.

Yours sincerely,

Arthur Bellamy