“Did you notice any grease on any of his shoes or clothing?” she asked.

“No, ma’am.”

“Amy, I should have asked you the same question: was there any sign of oil or grease on any of Miss Crowley’s shoes or clothing?”

The maid jolted a little at the attention abruptly being focused on her once more, but she shook her head. “No, mum.”

“How many new items of furniture have appeared at Mr. Genevan’s house since yesterday?” Phyllida asked Preston.

His eyes widened. “How did you know?” Phyllida merely smiled and waited for him to continue, which he did. “I nearly tripped over it, I did; right in the back hallway, a small round table with crinkled edges. And there was a cushioned wooden footstool I never saw before, and three porcelain statues.”

Apparently Louis Genevan had been quite busy in the wee hours of the night. But whether he was a murderer remained to be seen.

“Thank you,” said Phyllida. “Is there anything else?”

“No, ma’am, not that I can think of, Mrs. Bright.”

“No telephone conversations, or—”

“Oh! That’s right,” said Preston, his eyes lighting with pleasure that he had more information to give. “I did hear him speaking this morning on the telephone. Someone rang, and he answered it. I could only hear his side of the conversation, but it sounded as if he were arguing about whether to tell about something. He said something like ‘no one could have’ and ‘that would be quite stupid! ’ And then he became very angry and said, ‘Of course I didn’t, and you had best not!’ He finally slammed down the telephone; I thought he might have broken the receiver, but it still seems to be working.”

“Do you have any idea to whom he might have been speaking?” Phyllida asked, although she was certain she already knew the identity of the other person.

“Not at all, Mrs. Bright.”

“Think now . . . did he curse or swear at all during the conversation? Even though he was very angry?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t believe he did so.”

Phyllida nodded. “Very well. That is quite excellent information. Now, who is next?”

One of the maids raised her hand shyly. “Mrs. Bright,” she said, then managed a tremulous smile that revealed a large gap between her bottom teeth. “It’s only one thing I have to tell you, it is, but I wanted to sit for all of it, even though it’s only the one thing.”

“And what is your name, and who is your employer?” Phyllida asked.

“Oh, yes, ma’am. I’m Lucinda and I’m an upstairs chambermaid at Wilding, ma’am. Three years going now.”

Phyllida knew that Wilding House was the name of the estate where Sir Rolly and Vera Rollingbroke lived. “And what have you to report?”