Read Online The Poisonous Seed by Linda Stratmann - Free Book Online

informed, and so she composed a note to Constable Brown. When Tom arrived back to say that Cedric Garton had gone out for a drive, she got hold of him before he could run away and gave him the note to deliver.

     
    Later that afternoon, Sarah, who had been out buying fish for supper, returned with a brown paper parcel and an expression of quiet triumph. ‘I can tell you all about Mr Keane,’ she told Frances, and they hurried to the kitchen, where the fish was unwrapped and cut in pieces to be fried. ‘Mr Keane is a gentleman of thirty-six or thereabouts, and has lived here more than ten years. By all accounts he’s quite high up at the Bayswater Bank, but when he came here he was no more than a clerk and had no fortune at all. Then he courted Miss Morgan – she’s the only daughter of Mr Morgan the fancy milliner. He’s Thomas Morgan Ltd, now, with that big shop on the Grove. He was none too happy about the match but Mr Keane was a very handsome young man, and Miss Morgan very wilful and she would have him, and her father was very doting, so it came off. But I’ve heard say lately that Mr Keane is indifferent to his wife on account of her having become very fat, and she was no great beauty before, and Mrs Keane is very unhappy and takes wine a little too often, and Mr Keane and Mr Morgan only speak to each other when they have to. It’s a very unhappy place, Miss, and there’s many servants won’t stop there for long. Two weeks ago, Mr and Mrs Keane had a terrible quarrel, a real upper and downer. One of the maids overheard it – she was polishing the keyhole of the study —’
    ‘With her ear, no doubt,’ said Frances, dryly.
    ‘Very likely, Miss.’ Sarah paused. ‘Miss, I hope you don’t think that I —’
    ‘Please, go on,’ said Frances.
    ‘Well she didn’t exactly hear what the quarrel was about, but she said that Mr Garton was mentioned a number of times.’
    ‘What is this maid’s name?’ asked Frances.
    ‘Ettie, Miss. Her brother Harry is a friend of John Scott who drives a delivery cart for Whiteleys who is the sweetheart of my cousin Mary what works on the fish counter.’
    Frances decided not to try and follow these convolutions. ‘I think I should like to speak to Ettie,’ she said. ‘I wonder how that might be arranged?’
    ‘I’ve been thinking about that, Miss and it would need a bit of play acting which I know you won’t mind, and a cake.’
    ‘A cake?’
    ‘Yes, Miss. Ettie likes cake, and so do the other servants, only they don’t often get much in the way of leftovers as Mrs Keane is very fond of cake as well.’
    Frances nodded in sudden understanding. ‘So if there’s a cake in the kitchen …’
    ‘Yes, Miss. They’ll all come for a slice.’
    ‘Then,’ said Frances, ‘it should be a large cake, and made with best butter.’

     
    Saturday morning’s Bayswater Chronicle contained only a short paragraph about Percival Garton confirming that he was forty-eight years of age, had lived in Bayswater since 1870 and was the father of five children, the eldest of whom was eight. The weather remained cold, and there was a stiff breeze, with a dull sky threatening rain. Herbert was behind the counter with half his attention on the Pharmacopoeia, and Frances was trying to coax the stove into giving out a little more warmth when Tom appeared in the doorway. ‘That gentleman you want to talk to, ’e’s left the ’ouse and is walkin’ up the Grove,’ he said.
    Frances gave a sudden shiver of terror. Having planned and rehearsed her role as a young reporter, she found herself giving in to a moment of weakness. She now saw that the imposture was both foolish and fraught with peril, and decided that she should not attempt it after all.
    ‘What gentleman is this?’ asked Herbert, suspiciously.
    ‘That is not something you need to know,’ said Frances, briskly dusting the stove-top.
    ‘If it concerns the business then I should know,’ he said firmly, putting the