The Casebook of Newbury & Hobbes by George Mann Page A

Hambleton looked fresh-faced and clean-shaven, as if he’d had a good night’s rest and had risen early for breakfast. He was sitting at the table finishing a plate of eggs and bacon when I entered the room. I remember it distinctly, the manner in which he eyed me warily as I took a seat beside him. Of course, the first thing I did was enquire about the banging and the nature of his work in the cellar.”
    “And was he forthcoming?”
    “Only in as much as he acknowledged that he had been working through the night and apologised for keeping me awake. I pressed him further on the matter, politely at first, but he was loath to give away any real details. I held firm in my questioning, and eventually he relented. His explanation tallied with what Crawford had told me the previous day. He said he was working on a machine that would aid in the preservation of fruit and vegetables after picking, a means by which to maintain the freshness of the produce before it found its way to market.”
    “Did he show it to you?”
    “No. He was dismissive of the whole enterprise. Told me it was ‘far from finished’ and that there was ‘very little of consequence to see’.”
    “How odd. Did this not raise your suspicions about the man in any way?”
    “I certainly had a sense that there was more going on at Hambleton Manor than I had initially suspected. Nevertheless, I was also acutely aware that Hambleton was suffering a great deal of distress following the disappearance of his wife, so perhaps I was a little more forgiving than I may have been in different circumstances.
    “Feeling that I should not press the matter any further, I finished my breakfast—indulging in copious amounts of coffee to stave off the fatigue—and agreed with Crawford that he would show me to the missing woman’s bedchamber directly. Hambleton, for his part, did nothing but stare at his empty plate as we left the room.
    “As we crossed the hall I felt the tension dissipating, and Crawford gave an audible sigh of relief. ‘He’s not his usual self. Poor man. Please forgive him his brevity of conversation. At any other time I’m sure he would be delighted to reacquaint himself with an old school friend, but with Frances gone...’ The doctor clearly felt he needed to apologise for his friend and patient. I allowed him to do so, offering platitudes where necessary. I am much too long in the tooth to let such minor offences concern me.
    “I still had little notion of what had occurred at the house, and hoped that the coming day’s investigations would yield quick, obvious results. That way I could be on my way back to London as quickly as possible. One sleepless night was already enough for my constitution.” Newbury shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, putting a hand to his side. He grimaced with obvious discomfort.
    Bainbridge smiled warmly. “I’m sure it won’t be too long before you’re fully recovered, Newbury. I take it you’re now a little more accustomed to sleepless nights?”
    Newbury laughed. “Quite right. Quite right.” He sucked at his pipe.
    “So did the lady’s room reveal everything that Crawford hoped it would? Evidence of foul play?”
    Newbury shook his head. “Not a bit of it. I went through the place in minute detail. There was nothing of any consequence. No markings, no untoward smells, no evidence of occult activity. Hambleton had been right; the room was completely undisturbed, as if Lady Hambleton had simply disappeared into thin air. There was evidence that her husband had searched the place, of course, but nothing to suggest that she had taken flight. That is, nothing to suggest that she had planned to take flight. There was still the slight possibility that she had fled the house on a whim, bearing none of her effects, but that seemed increasingly unlikely. Having been driven along the approach to the house in a hansom the previous day, I found it difficult to believe that anyone could have been able to flee