of a genuinely threatening nature. As far as I am aware, of course.”
“What about past burglaries? I understand the wine collection is worth millions of pounds.”
“Most certainly. Especially with the additions to the collection over the last five years. But we have never had any trouble here. Our location is fairly remote, and Sir William had a new security door installed over the summer, though more for insurance purposes, I’m given to understand, than due to any real apprehension of theft.”
“And what about his . . . personal relationships?”
“Relationships?”
“Was there anyone Sir William was involved with? Romantically, I mean?”
Gilles appeared to blanch at this thought. “None whatsoever. Rightly or wrongly, I do believe Sir William regarded himself quite past the age of acquiring . . . a female companion, shall we say.”
Chef Maurice made a sudden harrumphing sound, causing PC Lucy to shoot him a warning look.
“And how would you describe the relationship between Sir William and Mrs Ariane Lafoute?”
Gilles paused a moment, then answered: “They were acquainted through Mrs Lafoute’s husband, Mr Bertie Lafoute, who has been known to Sir William for all his life, I understand, and has been a frequent guest here at Bourne Hall. As for Mrs Lafoute herself, I believe Sir William has only met her on a handful of occasions since their wedding two years ago.”
There was a knock on the door, and a freckle-faced young man stuck his head in. He was wearing a police hat and a very long woolly scarf.
“Um, do you have a moment? It’s a bit urgent,” he said to PC Lucy, who nodded and gestured him in.
Chef Maurice brightened up. He’d encountered PC Alistair on a few previous occasions, and found him to be a very pleasant, honest young man who held his elders in great respect—unlike PC Lucy, who seemed to carry certain misguided views on what information Chef Maurice should and should not have access to. Thankfully, her colleague Alistair seemed to have no such shortcomings to his cheery personality.
“Um . . . ” said PC Alistair, looking at Gilles.
“This is Mr Gilles, Sir William’s butler. So what have you found?”
“The cellar is just how you described. Most of the team is still down there. But I’ve just been for a walk around the building and, well, the footprints just don’t work out. You can see everything very clearly, you see, what with all the snow.”
“What do you mean, they don’t work out?” said PC Lucy.
“Well, there’s two sets going up to the main gate and back, fairly recently—”
“Monsieur Gilles and Monsieur Lafoute,” said Chef Maurice, nodding.
“—and then there’s quite a lot of sets outside the side door to the east wing—”
“Yes, that’s where I arrived, like I explained earlier,” said PC Lucy quickly, shooting another look at Chef Maurice and Arthur. Clearly, the mysterious blond man was not yet a tale for general consumption. “And then?”
“That’s it, miss. There’s no other prints.”
“None from the storeroom near the kitchen?” said PC Lucy sharply.
“It’s clean snow all around, miss.”
“But there was glass on the floor—” started Gilles.
“Could have been done earlier, sir. Or even a few days ago. The room doesn’t look much used.”
Gilles looked at PC Lucy. “I was in there this morning, just before lunchtime. I can assure you there was no sign of a break-in then.”
“So it happened this afternoon, then,” said PC Lucy. “The intruder could have been waiting in there—”
“Bah! With no footprints outside after? Do you see? It is une ruse . To take us away from the scent,” said Chef Maurice.
“There’s another thing, miss. The phone line was definitely cut on purpose. Halfway up the wire, where it runs outside.”
“But I thought you said there were no other prints.”
“That’s right. So it must have been done earlier in the day, before the snow. But another
“What about past burglaries? I understand the wine collection is worth millions of pounds.”
“Most certainly. Especially with the additions to the collection over the last five years. But we have never had any trouble here. Our location is fairly remote, and Sir William had a new security door installed over the summer, though more for insurance purposes, I’m given to understand, than due to any real apprehension of theft.”
“And what about his . . . personal relationships?”
“Relationships?”
“Was there anyone Sir William was involved with? Romantically, I mean?”
Gilles appeared to blanch at this thought. “None whatsoever. Rightly or wrongly, I do believe Sir William regarded himself quite past the age of acquiring . . . a female companion, shall we say.”
Chef Maurice made a sudden harrumphing sound, causing PC Lucy to shoot him a warning look.
“And how would you describe the relationship between Sir William and Mrs Ariane Lafoute?”
Gilles paused a moment, then answered: “They were acquainted through Mrs Lafoute’s husband, Mr Bertie Lafoute, who has been known to Sir William for all his life, I understand, and has been a frequent guest here at Bourne Hall. As for Mrs Lafoute herself, I believe Sir William has only met her on a handful of occasions since their wedding two years ago.”
There was a knock on the door, and a freckle-faced young man stuck his head in. He was wearing a police hat and a very long woolly scarf.
“Um, do you have a moment? It’s a bit urgent,” he said to PC Lucy, who nodded and gestured him in.
Chef Maurice brightened up. He’d encountered PC Alistair on a few previous occasions, and found him to be a very pleasant, honest young man who held his elders in great respect—unlike PC Lucy, who seemed to carry certain misguided views on what information Chef Maurice should and should not have access to. Thankfully, her colleague Alistair seemed to have no such shortcomings to his cheery personality.
“Um . . . ” said PC Alistair, looking at Gilles.
“This is Mr Gilles, Sir William’s butler. So what have you found?”
“The cellar is just how you described. Most of the team is still down there. But I’ve just been for a walk around the building and, well, the footprints just don’t work out. You can see everything very clearly, you see, what with all the snow.”
“What do you mean, they don’t work out?” said PC Lucy.
“Well, there’s two sets going up to the main gate and back, fairly recently—”
“Monsieur Gilles and Monsieur Lafoute,” said Chef Maurice, nodding.
“—and then there’s quite a lot of sets outside the side door to the east wing—”
“Yes, that’s where I arrived, like I explained earlier,” said PC Lucy quickly, shooting another look at Chef Maurice and Arthur. Clearly, the mysterious blond man was not yet a tale for general consumption. “And then?”
“That’s it, miss. There’s no other prints.”
“None from the storeroom near the kitchen?” said PC Lucy sharply.
“It’s clean snow all around, miss.”
“But there was glass on the floor—” started Gilles.
“Could have been done earlier, sir. Or even a few days ago. The room doesn’t look much used.”
Gilles looked at PC Lucy. “I was in there this morning, just before lunchtime. I can assure you there was no sign of a break-in then.”
“So it happened this afternoon, then,” said PC Lucy. “The intruder could have been waiting in there—”
“Bah! With no footprints outside after? Do you see? It is une ruse . To take us away from the scent,” said Chef Maurice.
“There’s another thing, miss. The phone line was definitely cut on purpose. Halfway up the wire, where it runs outside.”
“But I thought you said there were no other prints.”
“That’s right. So it must have been done earlier in the day, before the snow. But another
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