Free The Attenbury Emeralds by Jill Paton Walsh

account be bullied.”
    ‘“Indeed not,” said Charles. “We shall have to have the maidservant bullied instead.”
    ‘That was his first indiscretion, Harriet. It let me see that he agreed with me about Sugg.
    ‘Well, I took myself off, and a few minutes later I had a visit from Constable Johnson, knocking discreetly on my door. Sent along by Charles, of course. And I asked him if he remembered seeing Ottalie running about. He did. She was with the tiny girl, Ada. Of course he hadn’t taken any notice of them, being doggedly fixed on seeing potential thieves. He turned out to be a sharp enough young man. The moment he realised that Ottalie came into the picture he was remorseful for not having noted her down in his book, and was racking his brains to help me. He had seen Ottalie running along the corridor, and entering her sister’s room. She had left again almost at once, and he had not written it down. Then a crowd of people had come up the stairs – Captain Ansel, Mrs Ansel, Honourable Freddy, Mrs Sylvester-Quicke – and passed along to their rooms in a burst of conversation. Then Mr Northerby had come up the stairs with Lady Charlotte, and seen her to the door of her room. For a brief moment they had stepped inside, and partly closed the door – the constable assumed they had been kissing. Then Charlotte had opened her door, and walked briskly along the corridor to the foot of the stairs, where she called, “Ottalie, are you there? Do you want to see me dress, or not?” Mr Northerby said, “See you in a minute,” and entered his own room. Charlotte returned to her room without seeing Ottalie, and the hue and cry among the servants was raised almost as soon as she had closed her door. He could give me an exact time when Charlotte came up: five forty-five. That was all he could tell me. But it was enough.’
    ‘It didn’t tell you where the king-stone was.’
    ‘Well, by now, Harriet, I was full of dire suspicion. I expect you are too, at this stage in the story.’
    ‘Such suspicions as I have, Peter – and remember all this is shadowy compared to having been there, and seen and known the participants – are subject to a profound sense of puzzlement about motive.’
    ‘Ah, motive. You know I don’t believe in that.’
    ‘You don’t think people have motives for their evil deeds?’
    ‘Or for their good ones. Of course they do. I just don’t think they have reasonable, thought-out motives that a rational person could deduce and base a line of detecting on. Or, no: you provoke me, Harriet, into overstating my case. I don’t think people always have rational motives. Of course, sometimes they do, I’ll grant that.’
    ‘Thank you, my lord,’ said Harriet drily.
    ‘But if you are asking about motive, then you have penetrated deeper into all this than I supposed you could from my fancy story-telling. I imagine you are going to ask me why someone should steal something that is about to be theirs anyway.’
    ‘Naturally one wonders that. It seems so stupid a thing to do that one wonders if one is mistaken in one’s suspicions.’
    ‘All will become clear. Unless, that is, you have had enough, and wish to go about your day as planned. I think it has stopped raining. It is positively sunning. Would you like to walk in the park with me? I am well able to narrate while perambulating.’
    ‘Good idea,’ said Harriet. ‘Just let me get a coat on.’
    But Bunter was already bringing their coats over his arm, and holding scarves and hats at the ready.

6
    The Serpentine made a pleasant sight for walkers. It was now a bright, rain-washed late spring afternoon, but still sharply cold. Harriet and Peter, strolling arm in arm, looked, it must be said, just like the sort of Londoners who figure in tourist posters. Harriet was wearing her fur coat, and a Liberty silk scarf, and a pair of two-tone brogues, and Peter still wore a hat out of doors, a practice that was becoming steadily less common. They