Page 15 of Beatrix

And so, they began a systematic search of every nook and cranny, beginning this time on the ground floor. Ben, Rob and a very subdued Charlotte began their search in the grimy, little-used drawing room, while Henry, Arabella and Beatrix started in the study, all three taking great pains to avoid looking at the infamous blanket-covered chair.

Half an hour later, Billy was close to tears. ‘I should’ve asked ‘er which bloomin wall,’ he muttered, ‘but I din’t ‘ave time.’

‘Nobody is saying you should have asked that,’ Henry sighed, running his hand along the mantelpiece for the fifth time. ‘If I’m being entirely honest, I’m surprised that Muriel Pemberton’s conscience prompted her as far as it did.’

‘I don’t think it had anything to do with her conscience,’ Arabella snorted, on her hands and knees behind the desk. ‘She was using us as insurance. You didn’t see her that night. She was terrified of what Jacob White might do to her.’

‘I don’t reckon she wos thinkin’ she’d be kickin’ the bucket a couple o’ weeks later,’ Billy agreed.

‘Not many of us do, deary,’ interrupted Gladys, coming up behind him. For the most part, the landlady and her burly companion had kept well out of the way while making sure they were in a position to observe the proceedings. Henry found their scrutiny both irksome and troubling. Mostly because he didn’t know either of them well enough to deduce their actual motive for being so helpful. Over thirty years in the police force had shown him that true altruism was exceedingly rare.

It was Beatrix in the end who found the loose brick hidden behind the chair after a section of skirting board rocked slightly underneath her probing fingers. ‘Here,’ she called excitedly, pulling the board away from the wall.

Both Henry and Bella hurried over as she laid her prize on the floor and carefully stuck her hand in the cavity behind. It was perhaps two feet deep, and after a couple of seconds, though her fingertips touched what felt like cloth, she realised that her arm wasn’t long enough to grasp it.

Drawing her arm back, she looked up at her father. ‘I think we need Ben or Rob in here.’

‘Nonsense, I can do it,’ Henry declared impatiently, preparing to get down on his hands and knees.

Beatrix held out her hand to stop him. ‘Somebody's going to have to lie full length on the floor to reach whatever’s inside there, Papa, and in truth, I’m not sure how long it will take to get you back up again.’

Her father bristled for a second before Bella gently pulled him back. ‘Billy, call the others,’ she ordered the boy, as her father finally sighed in acceptance.

Moments later, Ben triumphantly retrieved a large bundle wrapped in oilcloth against the damp. Handing it up to Henry, he carefully replaced the board over the hole before climbing to his feet.

‘I think we might be wise to leave this room to its ghosts,’ Henry declared, once Ben was back on his feet. ‘Surely there’s another room we can use with a large table?’

‘Kitchen,’ Gladys announced with the certainty of someone who’d already seen every room in the house. Pursing his lips, and holding the bundle protectively to his chest, Henry nodded coolly and followed the barmaid along the dim corridor leading to the kitchen at the back of the house.

To his satisfaction, the table was a large oblong, perfectly suited to spreading out a large number of documents. Without speaking, he laid the bundle on the flat surface and undid the string tying it together.

Rob and Ben stood beside him, while Charlotte, Arabella and Beatrix positioned themselves as close as possible. Billy of course flitted between all six of them, sticking his head through whatever gap momentarily appeared. Both Gladys and Arnold stood at the other end of the table. Unsurprisingly, everyone waited with expectant silence to see what the cloth contained.

On initial inspection, the contents looked to be hardly worth the cost of the train fare. Half a dozen damp, swollen pages which looked to have been hurriedly ripped out from a ledger, together with a small tin that at first handling looked to be empty.

With a sinking heart, Henry laid the tin down on the table and took hold of the papers, carefully prising the pages apart before spreading them down on the table. Much of the writing had been affected by the damp, but each page contained three columns and clearly visible across the top were column headings, all written neatly in what looked to be a clerk’s hand…

Name…Boarding fees received…Transport Arranged…Placement confirmed

Underneath was a long list of names, each written in the same neat hand, and next to each name were two separate sums of money together with a date, and in the final column, a tick, or on occasion, more ominously a cross.

At the foot of each page was a firm’s name.

Grainger & Holt, Solicitors – Fees settled in full.

Henry looked towards Rob, who picked up each page in turn, perusing it carefully with a solicitor’s eye, while Henry prised apart the remaining three pages.

There were no headings at the top of the columns, just simply a list of addresses with no indication of whether they were private residences or something else entirely. All in all, there were nearly fifty different addresses listed. Far more than they could hope to investigate before Benedict’s month expired.

‘Are these all placements?’ Charlotte speculated hoarsely.

‘It would make sense.’ Henry’s voice was equally gruff. ‘But there are no dates against them. Are the records from the Pembroke Agency or this Society?’

‘I think we can safely make the assumption that they’re two sides of the same coin,’ Ben countered grimly.

‘These sheets look to have been part of a ledger, possibly forerunners of more formal ones held at Grainger and Holt,’ Rob added, placing the damp, swollen papers back on the table. ‘There’s no signature next to the fees settled in full. Nothing to indicate they are genuine or which organisation they represent. Nevertheless, looking at these, there can be no doubt that Grainger and Holt are involved up to their proverbial eyes…’ He paused with a sigh before adding, ‘As evidence, however, they’re unlikely to stand up in a court of law.’

‘But they tell us she wos right ter send us ter Grainger ‘an ‘olt though. She weren’t sendin’ us on some wild goose chase.’ Billy’s words came from underneath his master’s arm.