Baskett came in with his usual ineffable butler’s walk, executed with the arms held straight down, the hands lightly closed and turned out with the palms downwards. It was the deliberate relaxed pose of a man whose deportment is an important factor in his profession. Baskett did it superbly.
“Oh, Baskett,” said Lord Charles, “Inspector Fox would like to ask you about the people who were in the servants’ quarters this evening. Were all the maids in?”
“Ethel was out, my lord. Mrs. James and Blackmore were in.” He glanced at Fox. “That is the cook and the parlourmaid, sir,” he explained.
“Any visitors in your quarters?” asked Fox.
“Yes, sir. Lord Wutherwood’s chauffeur and Lady Wutherwood’s maid. The chauffeur was in the staff sitting-room, sir, for some time, and then went into No. 26 to help Master Michael with his trains. Miss Tinkerton was with Mrs. Burnaby in her room.”
“Mrs. Burnaby?”
“That’s Nanny,” explained Lord Charles.
“Thank you, my lord. And that is the entire household at the time of the occurrence?”
“I think so,” said Lord Charles. “Was there anyone else in your part of the world, Baskett?”
Baskett looked anxiously at his employer and hesitated.