Read Online Home by Nightfall by Charles Finch - Free Book Online Page B

accepted a scrap of paper and a nub of charcoal, then spent a careful forty seconds at the table next to his door, tongue in the corner of his mouth. When he showed them the result of his work, Lenox felt excitement. It was nearly identical to the image Hadley had provided them. Something concrete, then, something to confirm that Hadley wasn’t simply going mad. If anything, Root’s figure had slightly more detail to it.
    â€œBraids in the hair,” murmured Lenox.
    â€œYes,” said Root. “There weren’t many distinguishing marks to the drawing, but I recall that one. And the mouth—that was what gave me rather a jolt. It wasn’t a smile, as you would expect. Nor a frown. A straight line.”
    â€œExpressionless,” said Lenox.
    â€œYes. There was something unsettling about it.”
    â€œWhat did you think of the drawing at the time?” asked Lenox.
    â€œWell, I thought enough of it that I stopped and looked at it for a moment before going on into town. I suppose I assumed some children had done it.”
    â€œEven though Hadley doesn’t have children?”
    â€œI didn’t give it all that much thought, you know, not enough to inquire of myself what children would have done it.”
    â€œAnd now? What do you think?”
    Root frowned. He was an older, acute man, contemplative. He had come to the door with his finger holding his place in a book. “If I consider it again,” he said, “though I’m not certain, I think perhaps it seems too … too expert for a child to have drawn it. Of course, I may only be ascribing that impression to it now, since two gentlemen have come to my door and asked me about it, including my representative in Parliament!”
    Lenox nodded. “I understand. And you’re sure you saw nothing else—nobody unusual loitering in the area of Mr. Hadley’s house?”
    â€œOnly Mrs. Watson, whose family I have known sixty years.”
    â€œAre you that long in this district, sir?” said Edmund, sounding surprised.
    â€œI grew up here—left for London for thirty years, where I had offices in High Holborn, and now am back, in my mother and father’s old home, though I spend the coldest months of the winter on the Continent, for my health. I know you by sight, however, Sir Edmund. It is a pleasure to meet you in person.”
    Edmund put out his hand. “The pleasure is mine,” he said.
    Root took the hand and dipped his head deferentially. They spoke for another few minutes, but the solicitor wasn’t able to add any information to that which he had already given them. Nevertheless, as Lenox and Edmund walked across the street toward Hadley’s, they were both animated—a clue, confirmation of a clue.
    â€œIs this what it’s always like?” Edmund asked.
    â€œIt’s usually a good deal more frustrating than this. And there are a great number of doors slammed in your face, and occasionally slop thrown after your feet. And curses behind your back.”
    â€œI say, that would be thrilling.”
    â€œWell, I doubt Hadley is the man to do any of that, and here we are at his door,” said Lenox, “so you will have to wait your treat out.”
    The chief impression Hadley’s house gave was of unimpeachable tidiness. If he said there had been six bottles of liquor in the liquor stand, Lenox believed that there had been six bottles of liquor in the liquor stand. In the compact entry hall, there was a table with a clock on it, polished to a gleam, an empty calfskin card stand (no visitors that morning, at least), a paperweight, and a stack of precisely a week’s newspapers, the Times. Lenox counted them surreptitiously with his finger. Here was another signal, like the collection of gemstones, that, while Hadley’s house was small and he kept only a part-time servant, he was well off; the Times cost nine pounds a year, not an inconsiderable