He rounded the house again to knock on the front door. Under no circumstances would he present himself at the back door and give a servant the chance to shoo him away like some pesky gnat. If they were going to toss him out on his ear, they would have to do it on the front steps.

The door opened partway before he could employ the brass knocker. A man of about his own age stood there, not dressed in footman’s livery but in the dark garb of a butler. A shock of yellow hair fell onto his forehead, giving him an even more youthful appearance. “Don’t knock. It’ll disturb his lordship.”

Daniel gave his name and employer. “I need to speak with the earl, please.”

The young man’s eyes widened even as his brows came down. “His lordship isn’t receiving today.”

“I’ve come all the way from London on a matter of some urgency.”

He shook his head, the blond forelock swaying. “He’s not to be disturbed. He hasn’t been well.”

“I’m investigating a murder. I must see him.”

“A murder? Who got killed?” He continued to peek around the door. “His lordship can’t have done it. He’s been here in bed for ages.”

Was the young man quizzing him with his simplicity? “Be that as it may, he might have information that would be helpful to our case. Please give him my card and tell him I request an audience.” Daniel removed his card from his pocket with a flip that drew a gleam of admiration from the young man. Daniel had seen Ed Beck perform the maneuver and had practiced it until he could accomplish it with panache.

“You can wait inside. I’m Hillman, butler here at the Hall.” He stood back and opened the door. As Daniel entered, he looked up at the stone-carved coat of arms over the lintel, a scroll beneath spelling out the name of the place, Lockewood Hall.

Inside, a black-and-white-chessboard marble floor covered what looked like acres. Large paintings hung on every wall. Above them, an oval-shaped gallery on the next floor surrounded by a white marble banister was open to the skylights two stories above.

To Daniel’s left, an archway led to a stairwell, carpeted in rich red, with carved panels in each section of the railing. A man in a fine suit and intricately tied cravat descended the steps, a black bag in one hand.

“Dr. Plimpton.” The butler jumped to retrieve a top hat and cloak from the hall tree beside the door. “How is his lordship today? Are there any instructions?”

The doctor set his bag down and allowed the nervous young butler to assist him with his garments. “He is much the same, and I gave instructions to his valet. I shall return at the beginning of next week, but you may always send for me if there are new developments.”