him, the killer would have had to clean the gun, and would still have been in the room when James arrived.”
Essie looked confused. “I don’t understand all this talk of fingerprints. What does that mean?”
Felicity jumped in to answer. “Oh, come, Essie. Surely you’ve heard of it? It’s the latest technique the constabulary is using to catch criminals. Or rather, it’s actually Scotland Yard that is employing the method. They can actually tell the identity of someone by the prints on their fingers.”
Essie stared at the tips of her fingers. “You mean these little lines and swirls on them?”
“Well, of course that’s what I mean.” Felicity held out her own hands. “Every single person in the world has different patterns of those lines and swirls. See? Mine are different from yours.”
Essie shook her head. “I still don’t see how that can catch a criminal.”
“It’s obvious, Essie. Take this case of the Stalham murder. After James Stalham was arrested, the constables inked his fingers and then pressed them to a sheet of paper. That left prints that they matched to the pattern left on the gun.”
Essie gazed at Felicity in awe. “How on earth do you know all that?”
“Don’t let her overwhelm you with her superior knowledge,” Meredith said, with a quick frown at Felicity. “She read it in the newspaper. Just as I did. There was an article about it not too long ago. Apparently Scotland Yard has been officially using the method for at least two years.”
“So then,” Essie said, frowning in concentration, “if no one else was in the room with Lord Stalham, and only his finger patterns were on the gun—”
“Prints,” Felicity interrupted. “Finger prints.”
“—how could someone else have shot him?” Essie finished, completely ignoring Felicity for once.
“Precisely.” Felicity sighed. “The evidence against James Stalham was overwhelming. According to the butler, no one else was in the house that evening, except the maids and the housekeeper. There were no signs that someone had forced their way into the house, and at the time of the shooting, the staff were all asleep in their rooms.”
“Except the butler,” Felicity murmured. “Wasn’t he the one who found James standing over the body?”
“Yes, he was. He testified at the trial that he’d heard James arguing with his father earlier that evening. Apparently James had gambled away a great deal of money and his father had threatened to disown him.”
“Well, that certainly gives James a motive to get rid of the old boy,” Felicity said cheerfully. “I can certainly understand how he felt.”
Aware that Felicity was referring to her own past experience, Meredith exchanged a significant glance with her before answering. “James declared that his argument with Howard Stalham was over someone called Pauline Suchier, who was apparently Howard’s mistress. The butler, however, insisted that James was lying, both about the mistress and the cause of the argument.”
“One of them was certainly lying.” Felicity shaded her eyes to look at the sun. “I do believe it’s time we went back to the school.”
Meredith got to her feet, pondering on Felicity’s words. One of them was lying . But which one? What if Howard Stalham had, in fact, been involved with another woman? What if James had been telling the truth about the argument, that it wasn’t about his gambling after all. If so, why would the butler lie about it?
She couldn’t be sure why, but something didn’t seem quite right. Maybe it was the violent way the ghost of James Stalham had shaken his head when she’d called him a murderer. He was already dead. What did he have to gain now by protesting his innocence? Unless he really had been innocent of the crime and needed to prove it in order to cross over.
Either way, perhaps Felicity was right, after all. Past experience had taught her that a ghost could be quite persistent. James Stalham could
Essie looked confused. “I don’t understand all this talk of fingerprints. What does that mean?”
Felicity jumped in to answer. “Oh, come, Essie. Surely you’ve heard of it? It’s the latest technique the constabulary is using to catch criminals. Or rather, it’s actually Scotland Yard that is employing the method. They can actually tell the identity of someone by the prints on their fingers.”
Essie stared at the tips of her fingers. “You mean these little lines and swirls on them?”
“Well, of course that’s what I mean.” Felicity held out her own hands. “Every single person in the world has different patterns of those lines and swirls. See? Mine are different from yours.”
Essie shook her head. “I still don’t see how that can catch a criminal.”
“It’s obvious, Essie. Take this case of the Stalham murder. After James Stalham was arrested, the constables inked his fingers and then pressed them to a sheet of paper. That left prints that they matched to the pattern left on the gun.”
Essie gazed at Felicity in awe. “How on earth do you know all that?”
“Don’t let her overwhelm you with her superior knowledge,” Meredith said, with a quick frown at Felicity. “She read it in the newspaper. Just as I did. There was an article about it not too long ago. Apparently Scotland Yard has been officially using the method for at least two years.”
“So then,” Essie said, frowning in concentration, “if no one else was in the room with Lord Stalham, and only his finger patterns were on the gun—”
“Prints,” Felicity interrupted. “Finger prints.”
“—how could someone else have shot him?” Essie finished, completely ignoring Felicity for once.
“Precisely.” Felicity sighed. “The evidence against James Stalham was overwhelming. According to the butler, no one else was in the house that evening, except the maids and the housekeeper. There were no signs that someone had forced their way into the house, and at the time of the shooting, the staff were all asleep in their rooms.”
“Except the butler,” Felicity murmured. “Wasn’t he the one who found James standing over the body?”
“Yes, he was. He testified at the trial that he’d heard James arguing with his father earlier that evening. Apparently James had gambled away a great deal of money and his father had threatened to disown him.”
“Well, that certainly gives James a motive to get rid of the old boy,” Felicity said cheerfully. “I can certainly understand how he felt.”
Aware that Felicity was referring to her own past experience, Meredith exchanged a significant glance with her before answering. “James declared that his argument with Howard Stalham was over someone called Pauline Suchier, who was apparently Howard’s mistress. The butler, however, insisted that James was lying, both about the mistress and the cause of the argument.”
“One of them was certainly lying.” Felicity shaded her eyes to look at the sun. “I do believe it’s time we went back to the school.”
Meredith got to her feet, pondering on Felicity’s words. One of them was lying . But which one? What if Howard Stalham had, in fact, been involved with another woman? What if James had been telling the truth about the argument, that it wasn’t about his gambling after all. If so, why would the butler lie about it?
She couldn’t be sure why, but something didn’t seem quite right. Maybe it was the violent way the ghost of James Stalham had shaken his head when she’d called him a murderer. He was already dead. What did he have to gain now by protesting his innocence? Unless he really had been innocent of the crime and needed to prove it in order to cross over.
Either way, perhaps Felicity was right, after all. Past experience had taught her that a ghost could be quite persistent. James Stalham could
Similar Books
