“Someone closed the damper in the chimney and I was trying to open it—it was stuck—and when it came free, it clanged hard, and then everything came falling down and exploding into the room. All over me. I couldn’t breathe, and—”

“Quite, quite,” Phyllida said, forestalling a long explanation of obvious details. Who on earth had closed the damper in the sitting room? Everyone knew not to—

Of course. The extra maids wouldn’t know, and Mr. Dobble hadn’t remembered to tell them. She suppressed a groan. She could only imagine the disaster of the sitting room. Thank heavens she hadn’t brought the inspector in there.

“All right, off you go,” she said firmly. “Find a new uniform and wash out your eyes. And the inside of your nose and ears, too, Ginny, do you hear?”

“Yes, Mrs. Bright,” she said, still sobbing a little. “I’m s-so sorry—”

“Yes, yes, that’s fine,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

No, it definitely wasn’t.

And so now Phyllida had to have words with Mr. Dobble instead of listening to the Detection Club tell Inspector Cork how to solve his case. Drat. She’d been rather looking forward to that.

Despite the fact that it would have punctuated the point she needed to make with Mr. Dobble, Phyllida carefully brushed off the ash and soot that had found its way onto her dress. She was not about to walk about looking like a chimney sweep.

The butler was in his pantry, but from all indications, he appeared to be doing nothing but staring into space. There was a full cup of tea on the desk in front of him, but no papers, pencils, or any other work in sight.

Since the door was ajar, Phyllida didn’t feel the least bit guilty about peeking in before knocking. She also felt a mild bump of delight when the man jumped a little at the sound of her knock.

“Yes, Mrs. Bright?” he said, giving her a once-over with a disapproving expression. He’d stood, as was proper, and now loomed behind the desk in his customary dark coat and trousers.