A Beautiful Blue Death by Charles Finch Page B

handwritten notes, in his usual seat along the front hallway.
    “Graham,” said Lenox. “How are you?”
    “Well, sir, and you?”
    “Excellent. Just what I needed to get my mind off the case for an hour or two.”
    “I am gratified to hear it, sir.”
    “Do you feel more human, Graham?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Had a rotten day?”
    “Far from it, sir. I admit I was fatigued by the end of my investigations, sir, but as you kindly suggested a cup of tea and a moment by the fire put me right again.”
    “Always does the trick for me.”
    “Yes, sir. A good English remedy.”
    While they spoke, Graham had removed Lenox’s coat and quickly brushed his hat, while Lenox hung his cane on a hook to the right of the door, by a small table with a silver bowl on it. He dropped his keys in the silver bowl, and they rang out briefly
    “In my library, Graham?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Is there a fire?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    They walked into the library, but instead of sitting in his armchair, Lenox went to his desk and sat down. He motioned Graham toward another chair, by the side of the desk, and then unlocked the top left drawer with a small brass key he removed from his waistcoat pocket. From the drawer he took out a pad of paper and a pencil. Then he locked the drawer again and put the key back in his waistcoat. He cleared a space on the desk, knocking a few books to the ground by accident, and waving Graham off when he tried to pick them up.
    “I’ll get them later,” he said.
    As a final preparation, he searched through the papers on his desk and at last lit on what he was looking for, a short mahogany pipe with a silver mouthpiece and, next to it, a leather pouch. He painstakingly prepared the pipe, which he only smoked in the evenings, during his quietest hours, lighted it, and then sat back and looked at Graham.
    “What did you find out?” he said.
    Graham began to speak.
    “I will not have the full results of my inquiry into Miss Smith’s character until tomorrow afternoon, sir, if you would be so good as to release me for two or three hours at that time, butI have a full report of the inmates of Mr. Barnard’s house and have confirmed that all of them were present and for the most part in the dining room together, eating lunch, or in the drawing room, playing cards, between eleven and one, the period when Miss Smith ingested the poison.”
    “McConnell said twelve and one.”
    “Yes, sir, but to be cautious I extended the window, in the remote case that it was ingested earlier than Mr. McConnell determined. It could not have been later, of course, sir, because she died.”
    “Go on.”
    “As you are no doubt aware, sir, Mr. Barnard will hold his annual ball in four days’ time. The preparations for the event began long ago, and several of the houseguests arrived in the past few days, to stay until the ball ends.
    “Except for Claude Barnard, who seems to live with his uncle, the guest who has resided with Mr. Barnard for the longest time is his other nephew, Eustace Bramwell, who is Mr. Barnard’s sister’s son. He is a young man of perhaps twenty-two, sir, who has just come down from Cambridge, where he was in Caius College and studied botany.”
    “Botany?”
    “Yes, sir. He has been in his uncle’s house for more than a month now and doesn’t work during the day. But he has an active social life, I believe, and is a member of the Jumpers Club, which caters, from what I understand, to the younger members of the aristocracy.”
    “Lady Jane’s nephew is a member. Gives her fits. They drink all the time.”
    “I believe that to be an accurate picture of life at the Jumpers, sir. Eustace Bramwell spends some of his time there. But he is very proper, according to the servants, and, with the exception of his almost constant lectures on class responsibilities, he is quiet and not troublesome.”
    “I see.”
    “He was unlikely to come into contact with Miss Smith at great length, sir, and when at home