Apparently, so I am told, he
mumbled about it on his death bed.”
“I can’t imagine how that must
have felt.” Clara shook her head, “I suspect you are going to tell me that
William Henry shares his late father’s views?”
“Indeed, and with the awful
burden of death duties after his father’s death, he has found himself having to
tighten his belt considerably. My continual existence annoys him greatly,
though he always plays the doting nephew when he visits. I imagine he hopes I
have saved a great deal of my allowance and will leave it to him in my will.
Between you and me, aside from small pensions for Humphry and Mrs James, the
only person who gets anything from my will is Elijah. The bulk is going to the
Battersea Dogs’ Home.”
“I completely approve. The
dogs will be much more grateful.”
“Quite! And, as far as I know,
they don’t wish me dead!” Miss Sampford’s humour had grown morbid, “This last
year I have heard William Henry is truly struggling to keep the estate
financially viable. He had invested quite heavily in factories producing war
goods, which provided him with a considerable fortune during those terrible
years, but he failed to see the writing on the wall and pull out early enough.
When the war ended and the factories went bust, so did he. I hear he spent most
of his war fortune writing off debts. I don’t know if he will be able to keep
the estate. My allowance is tied up in several investments specifically set up by
father on John’s advice. Not only is it safe from the misfortunes of the
estate, but William Henry can’t touch the capital until I am dead and in my
grave. Can you see why he might be motivated to encourage my demise?”
“If you were to be scared to
death, by a ghost say, no one could deem it murder.” Clara understood.
“Precisely. In any case, old
lady’s die all the time from their hearts failing, who is to say if it had a
little help from a spectre?”
Clara nodded and sat back in
her chair musing on the problem. Between the greedy Mr Mollinson and the
avaricious William Henry there was motive enough to perpetrate a crime, whether
that was scaring an old lady out of her home, or to her death.
“Clara, you really must solve
this before any harm comes to me.” Miss Sampford suddenly sounded very frail,
her pluck and strength had abruptly drained away.
“Miss Sampford, I shall not
allow any harm to befall you.” Clara swore, turning to the old woman and taking
her hand.
Miss Sampford squeezed her
fingers around Clara’s.
“I have been so scared.” She
said, a tremble in her voice.
“Well, I take no nonsense from
the living or the dead, so no more fears. I shall have this solved before
Christmas is out.”
Miss Sampford smiled.
“I am so jolly glad you came.”
Chapter Six
“And what does this do?” Oliver
Bankes picked up a box that appeared to contain a pencil poised on a wire over
a sheet of paper.
“Really Mr Bankes, would you
mind not touching?” Andrews snatched the box from his hands, “It’s a vibration detector.
Self-built. When I wind it up and set it going the paper will slowly scroll
through, the hours are marked on the paper. If something, say footsteps, causes
a vibration near the device the pencil moves and draws on the paper. I can then
see at what time the vibrations were caused and the duration. See, your moving
of the box has caused it to draw here?”
Oliver noted a faint mark on
the paper.
“Do ghosts cause vibrations?”
“That is one of the questions
I am trying to answer. Here, just hold this.” Andrews dumped a large ball of fishing
twine into Oliver’s hands in the vain hope this might stop him from touching
anything else.
“What about the flour we
sprinkled on the back stairs?”
“To detect footprints. The
servants have been instructed to use the main stairs; therefore any footprints
that appear in the flour are clearly supernatural.”
“Or made by an intruder?”
Andrews gave a
mumbled about it on his death bed.”
“I can’t imagine how that must
have felt.” Clara shook her head, “I suspect you are going to tell me that
William Henry shares his late father’s views?”
“Indeed, and with the awful
burden of death duties after his father’s death, he has found himself having to
tighten his belt considerably. My continual existence annoys him greatly,
though he always plays the doting nephew when he visits. I imagine he hopes I
have saved a great deal of my allowance and will leave it to him in my will.
Between you and me, aside from small pensions for Humphry and Mrs James, the
only person who gets anything from my will is Elijah. The bulk is going to the
Battersea Dogs’ Home.”
“I completely approve. The
dogs will be much more grateful.”
“Quite! And, as far as I know,
they don’t wish me dead!” Miss Sampford’s humour had grown morbid, “This last
year I have heard William Henry is truly struggling to keep the estate
financially viable. He had invested quite heavily in factories producing war
goods, which provided him with a considerable fortune during those terrible
years, but he failed to see the writing on the wall and pull out early enough.
When the war ended and the factories went bust, so did he. I hear he spent most
of his war fortune writing off debts. I don’t know if he will be able to keep
the estate. My allowance is tied up in several investments specifically set up by
father on John’s advice. Not only is it safe from the misfortunes of the
estate, but William Henry can’t touch the capital until I am dead and in my
grave. Can you see why he might be motivated to encourage my demise?”
“If you were to be scared to
death, by a ghost say, no one could deem it murder.” Clara understood.
“Precisely. In any case, old
lady’s die all the time from their hearts failing, who is to say if it had a
little help from a spectre?”
Clara nodded and sat back in
her chair musing on the problem. Between the greedy Mr Mollinson and the
avaricious William Henry there was motive enough to perpetrate a crime, whether
that was scaring an old lady out of her home, or to her death.
“Clara, you really must solve
this before any harm comes to me.” Miss Sampford suddenly sounded very frail,
her pluck and strength had abruptly drained away.
“Miss Sampford, I shall not
allow any harm to befall you.” Clara swore, turning to the old woman and taking
her hand.
Miss Sampford squeezed her
fingers around Clara’s.
“I have been so scared.” She
said, a tremble in her voice.
“Well, I take no nonsense from
the living or the dead, so no more fears. I shall have this solved before
Christmas is out.”
Miss Sampford smiled.
“I am so jolly glad you came.”
Chapter Six
“And what does this do?” Oliver
Bankes picked up a box that appeared to contain a pencil poised on a wire over
a sheet of paper.
“Really Mr Bankes, would you
mind not touching?” Andrews snatched the box from his hands, “It’s a vibration detector.
Self-built. When I wind it up and set it going the paper will slowly scroll
through, the hours are marked on the paper. If something, say footsteps, causes
a vibration near the device the pencil moves and draws on the paper. I can then
see at what time the vibrations were caused and the duration. See, your moving
of the box has caused it to draw here?”
Oliver noted a faint mark on
the paper.
“Do ghosts cause vibrations?”
“That is one of the questions
I am trying to answer. Here, just hold this.” Andrews dumped a large ball of fishing
twine into Oliver’s hands in the vain hope this might stop him from touching
anything else.
“What about the flour we
sprinkled on the back stairs?”
“To detect footprints. The
servants have been instructed to use the main stairs; therefore any footprints
that appear in the flour are clearly supernatural.”
“Or made by an intruder?”
Andrews gave a
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