“Well, yes, my lord. I know Lord Wutherwood had no son.”
“Do you, by God!” said Lord Charles. The exclamation was completely out of key with the level courtesy of his earlier rejoinders but Fox took it in his stride.
“I have heard that is the case,” he said. “I understand that two of his lordship’s servants were here. It’s not very nice,” continued Fox with an air of one who apologizes for a slight error in taste, “to have to think of people in this light, but—”
“Murder,” said Lord Charles, “is not very nice either. You are quite right, Mr. Fox. My brother’s chauffeur and my sister-in-law’s maid were both there.”
“Might I trouble you for their names, my lord?”
“Tinkerton and Giggle.”
“Giggle, my lord?”
“Yes. That’s the chauffeur.”
“Quite an unusual name,” said Fox, placidly busy with his notes. “Have they been long with his lordship?”
“I believe that Tinkerton was with my sister-in-law before she married and that’s twenty-five years ago. Giggle began at Deepacres as an odd boy and under-chauffeur. His father was coachman to my father.”