“I hope to be back here very soon, to start investigating.”

He nodded. “Is there anything else you want to see?”

Stephen Walmsley had mentioned the children’s home. “Philip, where is that orphanage with the big gates? I can’t get my bearings.”

He turned left onto a narrow lane. It wound round behind the area of housing. The way grew dusty, and I soon saw why.

The gates were gone, and so were the swings and slide. The ground was churned.

Philip stopped the van.

The only sound was the creaking of wheels as a woman pushed an old pram along the lane.

I glanced out to see the baby, but saw only the stone figure of an angel with a chipped wing. The woman saw me looking. “It’s a crying shame,” she said. “Something has to be saved from that fine place.”

She didn’t stop.

Philip drove a few more yards. Where a house once stood, there was nothing. The children’s home was gone. Piles of rubble made a sad pattern across the grounds.

I had seen enough. We turned back.

Philip was enjoying our drive. He stopped by a lane where in summer the trees reach across and touch each other, forming a green canopy.

“We called this the fairy way, do you remember, Kate?”

“Yes. Thorpefield Manor, my friend Gertrude’s house, is up there. I don’t want to be spotted snooping.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve written to her, inviting myself to stay. She would think it odd if she sees me before she has had time to reply.”

“Does she know that you are investigating?”

“No.”

“Will you be safe?”

“Yes.”

He took one hand from the wheel. “Thorpefield Manor is very old. In the wall, there are bee boles. I’ll leave my treatise on rhubarb in the third bee bole from the gate. The bees don’t go there now. They prefer a different hive.”

“Well, thank you.” It was always a good idea to go along with Philip’s suggestions. Alternative ideas might lead to upsetting confusion.

“And if you need me, Kate, leave a message in that same bee bole.”

Chapter Ten

Success! I came home to a message on the hall table. Gertrude had telephoned.

Mrs. Brockman delighted for you to come. Telephone her about a time.

I put in the call to Gertrude before taking off my coat.

The butler answered. I remembered his sonorous voice. Over the telephone, he sounded as though he might be speaking from beyond the grave.

Gertrude was not long in picking up.

“I’m thrilled that you’re coming to stay, Kate. We’ve so much to talk about. Can you come tomorrow?”

“That would be perfect.”

“Now, I wanted to ask, will you be bringing a maid?”

“Gertrude, you know that I don’t have a maid.”

“Ah, I’d forgotten. Not to worry.”

“And I don’t need a maid.”

“If you say so!” She continued. “I’ve arranged a small dinner party for tomorrow evening.”

“That sounds lovely.” I sensed the appearance of a man without a wife, to be carefully seated within pass-the-salt distance.