“I brought yesterday evening’s papers with me, sir,” said Graham.

Lenox noticed a bundle under the butler’s arm. “Cheers.”

“I am afraid there is no new information, however. Mr. Hiram Smalls is still in custody. Inspector Exeter is widely quoted in the paper as saying the case is over.”

“Is he now? Insufferable, isn’t it,” he murmured as he glanced at the headlines.

“Will you eat breakfast here, sir?” Graham asked.

“Is the pub open?”

“Yes, sir. I ate there earlier and can heartily recommend the poached eggs.”

“Put in an order for me, would you? I’ll be down in twenty minutes. Plenty more of this, too,” said Lenox and raised his coffee cup.

“Yes, sir. May I draw your attention to the two letters on your nightstand, sir?”

There were a pair of white envelopes next to Lenox’s book. “Thanks,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” said Graham and left.

Good to have him here, thought Lenox. It will make life much easier.

He took the first envelope, which he recognized as being on the heavy, cream-colored stationery of Lord John Dallington. The second, however, caught his eye, and he discarded Dallington’s note for it; inside was white paper ringed with pale blue. It was from Lady Jane.

Dear Charles, I pray this finds you well. Thank you for your kind note, and Godspeed in Stirrington. I sit here at Toto’s side; under sedation she has lost all her good cheer and effervescence, and their absence does what their presence could not and makes me realize how much I had come to rely on them. Thomas handles himself badly, I’m afraid; and as I would only say to you. His concern for Toto is patent, and he harries the doctors with questions when they come in, but he has also been drinking. Toto instructs me during her coherent moments to bar him from the room, and he’s half mad at the exclusion, persuaded that these sorry circumstances are his fault.