It was tempting to let him, because I was already causing something of a stir simply by being there. But I would do this myself.

“Jug of stout please, Fred.”

“Right you are, Kate. Deposit on the jug.”

“I know.”

Sykes stared as the landlord pulled the drink.

I took it and paid.

Outside, we stopped by the entrance to the dingy yard. “Good luck, Mr. Sykes. It will be such a relief if this American golfer really does know our man.”

“Do you want me to wait with you?”

“No. It’s just a quick call. I’ll tell you another day.”

“Mrs. Shackleton, you never cease to surprise me.”

*   *   *

A stone’s throw from the Mucky Duck and my birth mother’s house, a framer of pictures scratches a living, working from a narrow shop called Picture This.

It was time to give him some business.

The clapper sounded as I opened the creaking door.

After a moment, Maurice Lewis shuffled in from the backroom. He wears carpet slippers, due to some unspecified problem with his feet.

He cheered up at the sight of me, which cheered me too. We exchanged pleasantries and then I asked, “Mr. Lewis, might you do some framing for me quite quickly? I’m a house guest at a friend’s and would like to leave something for them, photographic portraits.”

I took the pictures from my bag. He duly admired Gertrude and Benjie, and Gertrude with her horse.

Raynor the butler looked exceedingly smart and, on paper, less like Dracula than in real life.

A sign read that Mr. Lewis now developed and printed photographs. He saw me reading it. “I don’t suppose you’ll need that service, Mrs. Shackleton.”

After my experience in the cellar, I decided that such a service was exactly what I needed. I wound on the film in my camera. “I’ll leave this with you, Mr. Lewis. Develop and print everything in a decent size, and frame the best.”

He worries about money, not just his own lack of it but other people’s. “Are you sure? All of them?”

“Yes.” This would be courtesy of Scotland Yard after all. “And have them sent to me at Thorpefield Manor, so include a delivery charge.” I took out my purse. “Here’s something on account.”

Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

After emptying his wallet buying drinks for thirsty railwaymen who had nothing much to say, Sykes cheered inwardly at the news that someone at Moortown Golf Club might have information for him.

He had come to only one conclusion during his stint investigating the intricacies of northern railways, while trying to solve the mystery of the body on the train. He took his hat off to the chaps who drew up timetables. It was no mean feat, ensuring trains didn’t bump into each other and that signals worked all the way along the line.