3 Service for Two (13 page)

Cecily tried to ignore a little shiver of apprehension. “I am aware of that. But if my hotel is being used by a gang of jewel thieves, I want to know it. And I want to know who is involved.”

“I must beg you to reconsider and inform the police.”

“I will fight to the last to protect the Pennyfoot, Baxter,” she said quietly. “With or without you.”

His sigh resounded heavily in the silent room. “Yes,
madam, I know that full well. Very well, I will say no more.”

“Good.” She patted his arm. “Then let’s get down there right away. Three of the card rooms are booked for this evening, and I don’t want to be interrupted in our search.”

She led the way quickly down the stairs, hearing Baxter’s measured tread behind her. The six card rooms lay below the staff rooms, in an annex off the cellar. They had once been part of an extensive wine cellar when the Pennyfoot was originally the country home of the Earl of Saltchester.

When James had bought the house and renovated it into the small exclusive hotel, he’d had no use for such an enormous space, and the rooms were added ostensibly for storage. It had been Cecily’s idea to rent them out for the card games, when one of the guests had inquired about a private room.

The cellar had its own separate entrance down a flight of steps leading from the yard behind the kitchen. The card rooms were on the other side of the wine racks, leading off a narrow corridor. Unless one of the staff went to the cellar to fetch wine, no one else had any reason to be there.

The popularity of the rooms had spread like wildfire since patrons could come and go virtually unnoticed, and for the most part they preferred it that way.

Cecily didn’t care for the cellar. Its musty smell and dank atmosphere made her think of prisons, for some reason. She hadn’t been down there since before James had died, and she was very glad of Baxter’s company as their footsteps echoed eerily amongst the racks of wine bottles.

Baxter examined each of the doors, but none of them appeared to have been tampered with. Producing a ring of keys, he unlocked the door of the first room and pushed it open. “After you, madam.”

She went through into the cramped space. There was just enough room for a round card table with six chairs, and a long, low sideboard, which was stocked generously with wines and spirits. An abundance of food was added on the evenings the room was occupied, enough to keep six people well fed all night.

Cecily made sure that the trays of ham, sausage, pressed beef, cold roast pheasant, grouse, partridge, lobster, cheeses,
and fruit—not to mention the fresh-baked bread, scones, and teacakes—were all of the finest quality. Part of the evening’s pleasure was in the enjoyment of good food and wine.

“I really don’t know what to look for,” Cecily said, gazing around the tiny room, “but we might as well search it, just in case we can find something. You look in the sideboard, while I examine under the table.”

She’d covered every inch of the floor, even lifting up the carpet to look underneath, by the time Baxter had finished with his own inspection.

“Nothing, madam,” he declared when she questioned him with her eyebrows.

“Then on to the next one,” she said without much hope. She watched Baxter carefully lock the door. Whatever she’d hoped to find, it now seemed unlikely that these compact rooms could hide anything significant.

By the time they had searched the third room and found nothing, she was inclined to give up the search. It was Baxter, however, who insisted on finishing the job. He was probably afraid she’d come back later on her own, she thought ruefully. He needn’t concern himself on that point.

Once more she lifted the carpet while Baxter rummaged in the sideboard. This time, to her amazement, she saw what appeared to be a thin line cut into the parquet flooring. Examining it further, she saw it joined at right angles with another long cut.

“Baxter,” she said sharply, “please help me move this table aside, if you will. I want to take this carpet up all the way.”

“Yes, madam.” She heard the note of resignation in his voice, as if he was merely humoring her, but she was too tense to mind. She pulled a chair out of the way as he slid the table back as far as it would go against the wall.

Tugging on the carpet, she swept it out of the way. “Now look, Baxter. What do you make of that?”

Frowning, he squatted down to take a closer look. “It appears to be a piece cut into the floorboards.”

“Can you lift it?”

He gave her a startled look, then felt in his vest pocket for the knife he always carried to cut off the end of his cigars.

Holding her breath, she watched him slip the blade into the narrow end of the rectangle and lever it upward. The end lifted just enough for him to ease his fingers underneath. With a sharp pull, the entire piece of flooring came up like a cork out of a bottle, and Baxter sat back on his heels, staring at a large gaping hole in the floor.

“Good gracious,” he said softly, “would you just look at that.”

CHAPTER
13

“Well?” Cecily said impatiently. “What is it?”

“It appears to be a trapdoor. There are steps leading down….” He lifted a puzzled face to look at her. “It would seem that they lead to the tunnel.”

“The tunnel? That’s impossible.”

She moved closer so that she could look down into the square hole. The light from the gas lamps reflected on the narrow steps leading into the darkness. She could see nothing beyond them. But the damp air rose to cool her face, and the smell of the sea was unmistakable.

The tunnel, she knew, led to a private beach that belonged to the hotel. The Earl of Saltchester had the tunnel constructed for his family, so that they could come and go to the beach in complete privacy.

The original entrance was in the library, by way of several
flights of steps. James had it sealed up, deeming it not only dangerous for the hotel guests to use, but also an inconvenience to have people traipsing through the library on their way from the beach.

“Someone must have opened the tunnel up again,” Cecily said, “with a new entrance. Without my knowledge or consent. I would very much like to know who went to all that trouble, and why they did so.”

“Obviously for no legitimate purpose,” Baxter said grimly. “I’ll have it sealed up again immediately.”

“No, not before we’ve taken a look down there.”

Baxter got slowly to his feet, dusting off the knees of his trousers. “I will take a look myself, madam, if you insist. But I can use the beach entrance to the tunnel. I think we should have this sealed up as soon as possible.”

“We don’t have time to use the beach entrance. This room is booked for the evening. And I don’t want this entrance sealed yet. Not until I know who is involved. I don’t want whoever it is to know we have discovered his little secret.”

He looked at her steadily. “You would like me to go down there now?”

“I would like
us
to go down there now, Baxter.”

“I was sure that you would.” He sighed. “Madam, I am quite capable of conducting a search on my own.”

“I am quite certain you are. But in the interests of time, it will surely be a lot faster if both of us were searching. Standing here arguing about it is only taking up more precious time.”

“We will need a lamp for each of us.”

“There are two hanging on the end of the wine racks.”

Giving in at last, he moved to the door. “You will wait until I get back with the lamps?”

He’d said it more as a command than a question, and she sighed. “Yes, Baxter, I’ll wait. But please hurry.”

He was back in less than a minute, but to Cecily waiting in a fever of impatience beside the dark hole in the floor, it seemed to take forever.

He handed her one of the oil lamps, which he’d already lit,
and with the other swinging from his hand, he turned his back to the opening and began to descend the steps backward.

“Please wait until I’ve reached the bottom,” he said as his head reached floor level. “I want to be ready to catch you if you should fall.”

She grimaced but said nothing as he climbed lower. The distance to the floor of the tunnel was greater than she’d expected. Several long, anxious seconds passed before he reached the bottom step and finally turned his face up to her.

“Be very careful, madam, I implore you. Those are not the sturdiest steps. Whoever constructed them was not an experienced carpenter, by any means.”

“No, Baxter,” she said, hanging onto the lamp with one hand while she steadied herself with the other, “he was most likely a jewel thief.” And, she added silently, she could only hope and pray he wasn’t also a chef.

The chill of the tunnel took her by surprise, and she wished she’d brought a wrap. But then, she hadn’t bargained on climbing down into the bowels of the earth when she’d suggested searching the rooms.

Feeling blindly for each step with her foot, she lowered herself into the eerie darkness, lit only by the faint beam swooping back and forth from her lamp, and the small pool of light near the base of the steps, where Baxter waited for her.

Hampered by her long skirt and the soft soles of her house shoes, it took longer for her to reach the bottom than it had Baxter. Not for the first time she reflected on how much easier some things would be for women if they could wear trousers like the men. Not just for riding bicycles, but for all physical activities.

She could hear Baxter’s harsh breathing as she neared the bottom of the steps, and knew he was concerned for her. She gave him a wide smile as she stepped onto solid ground again. “There,” she said, a trifle out of breath, “that wasn’t as bad as I expected.”

She held the lantern high above her head to shed as much light as possible. James had always been afraid of the tunnel collapsing and had forbidden her to enter it. But her innate curiosity had got the better of her one day, and she’d explored
the beach end of the tunnel while James had been otherwise occupied.

She had never been this far in, however, and had to admit that she really didn’t care for the sensation—though she would never express that thought aloud.

The air was damp, with a strong odor of seaweed and decayed fish. She could feel the cold through the soles of her shoes, and her skin shivered with it.

“Come, Baxter,” she said, her voice echoing strangely in the yawning blackness in front of them, “let’s get this over with as quickly as possible.”

“I couldn’t agree more heartily,” Baxter said with feeling.

He started to move ahead, and she said quickly, “I think we should stay fairly close together. If you look to the right and I look to the left, we should be able to cover the entire floor of the tunnel.”

He waited for her to draw level with him, then lifted the lantern to shoulder height.

She did the same and peered at the uneven walls of the tunnel that had been hacked into the chalky cliffs. She tried to ignore the large chunks of powdery chalk scattered about.

James’s warning rang in her head, and she pushed the thought away, concentrating instead on searching the ground in the hope of finding some clue to the identity of the person responsible for all this anxiety.

For long, interminable minutes the shadows leapt and danced across the white rock face, while the wind whistled and sighed through the tunnel. It would be growing dark outside, Cecily thought, and wondered how long it would take them to get back. She hoped to return before the guests arrived for their evening of cards.

She stepped on a stone, and it bit painfully into her foot. Baxter heard her soft exclamation and swung his lantern toward her.

“Madam?”

She shook her head at the pale shadow of his face behind the flame. “It’s all right, Baxter. Just a pebble.”

He started to swing the lantern back again, and as he did so,
she caught sight of something small and dark lying just ahead of them.

“Wait, Baxter. What is that?” She swung her own lamp higher and hurried forward, her eyes fixed on the square object.

“Please don’t touch anything, madam. Let me look at it first.”

She paid no heed to him as she reached the object and stooped to pick it up. She knew what it was right away. Carefully she lowered the lamp to stand it by her feet, then opened the padded jewel case she held in her hands. The red velvet interior held the imprint of a piece of jewelry that was no longer there.

“I think we have found the evidence we are looking for,” she said slowly. “I imagine this once contained a necklace taken from Lady Smythe-Bedford’s house in London.”

She heard Baxter mutter something too low for her to hear. Staring down at the empty case, she felt quite ill. Although she had suspected that the thieves had used the Pennyfoot, having the proof right there in her hands, eliminating any doubt whatsoever, suddenly brought to full force the enormity of the situation.

“Oh, Baxter,” she said brokenly, “whatever shall we do?”

She heard him draw a sharp breath, and knew he was as distressed as she felt. “I’m sorry, madam,” he muttered, sounding angry. “I wish there was something I could do, but I’m afraid it’s out of our hands now. We have to inform the police.”

“No,” she whispered. Then louder, “No, I will not. I will find out who is responsible for this, and I will find some way to bring him to justice without implicating the Pennyfoot.”

“Madam, I understand how you feel, but that would be impossible—”

She closed the case with a snap. “No, Baxter. Difficult, I grant you, but not impossible. I will find a way. But first we have to know who the ringleader is in all this.”

“May I suggest, madam, that our first priority is to return the way we came, before someone discovers where we are?”

“Oh, heavens, you’re quite right, of course.” She handed
the case to him, saying, “Hide this inside your jacket, in the event we bump into someone.”

He took it from her, and she stooped to pick up the lantern, sending light dancing once more over the craggy walls. In no time, it seemed, they were back at the steps, with the trapdoor opening sending a shaft of welcome light to cut through the darkness.

Cecily climbed the steps as quickly as her skirts would allow, pausing to peep over the edge of the hole just in case someone should be there. Had she not been so concerned about the fate of the hotel, she would have smiled at the droll thought of how surprised one of her guests would be to see her head pop up at their feet.

Standing in the room, she waited anxiously for Baxter to climb out then replace the trapdoor. In a matter of seconds they had the carpet back in place and the table and chairs moved to their original position. And not a moment too soon.

Cecily was busily dusting the chalky dust from her skirts when the door opened and Gertie stood in the doorway with a loaded tray of food. Her jaw dropped in surprise as she stared first at Cecily, then at Baxter standing behind her.

Aware of how it must look to find the two of them alone in the small room, looking somewhat disheveled, Cecily was sure, she could quite understand Gertie’s astonishment.

She heard Baxter’s stifled groan, just as Gertie said wonderingly, “Begging your pardon, mum, but I didn’t know anyone was in here. I mean—”

“It’s quite all right, Gertie.” As nonchalantly as she could manage, Cecily lifted her lantern and twisted the wick down to shut off the flame. “Baxter and I were just examining the card rooms to decide if we could enlarge them.”

Gertie’s gaze moved slowly down to the lantern. Her expression clearly said that she found it difficult to understand why they should need two oil lanterns when the rooms were adequately lit by the gas lamps.

“You may go ahead and stock the sideboard, Gertie,” Cecily added, sweeping majestically toward the door. “We have quite finished with our inspection.”

“Yes, mum.” Gertie stood back to let them pass, her eyes as wide as saucers.

Baxter hung the two lanterns back on the wine racks, and Cecily could tell by his face how deeply mortified he was. No doubt there would be much speculation below stairs over the incident, but she was quite sure it would die down very shortly. Had she not been so preoccupied with their recent discovery, she would have enjoyed the moment immensely.

As it was, she could hardly wait to get out of Gertie’s earshot before saying to Baxter, “Have you time for a word in the library before the evening meal?”

He gave her a look from under lowered brows. “In the interest of appearances, madam, perhaps it would be as well if we were to conduct any conversation between us in a more public place. At least for the time being.”

She shook her head at him. In spite of the fact that he’d been scrambling about in a filthy underground tunnel, he looked remarkably well-groomed. His hair was immaculate as usual, having no doubt been smoothed down by a quick hand in the card room. Except for the slight smear of chalk on one knee, one would never know he’d been out of his office.

“You know, Baxter,” she said, tipping her head to one side, “you would be so much happier if you learned how to relax.”

“Yes, madam.” The slight squaring of his shoulders suggested he had no intention of doing any such thing.

“And I am not prepared to discuss anything with you in a public area,” Cecily added, “where anyone might overhear. Besides, how would I be able to smoke your cigars if everyone could see me?”

He pursed his lips, but said nothing, apparently realizing it would be pointless to argue. “I have a few minutes to spare, madam, if you would care to join me in the library?”

She nodded with satisfaction. “That’s a very good idea, Baxter. And while we are there, I can enjoy a smoke.” Ignoring his frown of disapproval, she led the way down the hall to the library.

“I tell you, they were standing there, looking as guilty as a nipper with his hand in the biscuit tin,” Gertie said, nodding
emphatically at Ethel. “They had dust all over them, like they’d been rolling on the blinking floor.”

She’d met Ethel in the lobby on her way back to the kitchen and couldn’t wait to tell her the juicy gossip. To her intense frustration, Ethel slapped a hand over her mouth and exploded with laughter.

“Madam and Mr. Baxter? Go on, Gertie, pull the other one. Can you imagine Mr. Baxter rolling on the floor with anyone, leave alone madam? She’d probably poke him one in the eye.”

“They
was
, I tell you. Madam made up some story about inspecting the room, but I ask you, why would they ’ave a bleeding lamp in their hands if that’s all they was up to?”

Ethel shook her head and peered up at Gertie’s face. “You haven’t been at Michel’s brandy, have you?”

Offended, Gertie drew her head back. “Whatcha mean? ’Course I haven’t.”

“Well, you just tell me something. What would they need a lamp for if they was rolling on the floor together? Tell me that, Miss Clever Drawers.”

Gertie stared at her, seeing her big story fading away into nothing. “Well, all I can say is they looked bloody guilty about something. I always did think old Baxter had a fancy for madam. I seen the way he looks at her sometimes.”

“Go on, you’re daft, Gertie Brown, that you are. Seeing too many stars in your eyes just ’cos you’re getting married on Saturday.”