The Folly by M. C. Beaton

hall.
    Charles addressed them. “Someone has been trying to frighten my son. If any of you is responsible, then I shall take them personally to the nearest round-house. I want two guards to be on duty from now on outside my son’s door at night.”
    He did not want any of the newly hired Mannerling servants. He had not chosen any of the servants he had brought with him for fear they, too, would gossip. But he now realized that they would never be part of any plot to harm his son. He selected one groom and one stablehand and gave them their orders. They had been in his employ for some time and appeared to be trustworthy.
    He then turned to Barry. “You have done well. I doubt if our ghost will materialize again.” He handed Barry two guineas, which Barry swiftly pocketed.
    The odd man said he would walk back to Brookfield House, as the morning was fine. He felt very tired. But something was nagging at the back of his mind. He had scanned the servants’ faces when they were gathered in the hall, looking for anyonewith the same type of features as Judd, but he could not see one. It suddenly struck him that there was one face that should have been among the crowd, a face that was absent.
    He was still mulling it over as he walked up the short drive to Brookfield House. He walked round the side of the building and round the back to the kitchen door. He was reaching up his hand to the latch when the door suddenly opened and Miss Trumble stood there.
    “What news, Barry? I had a restless night and rose early. I saw you arrive.”
    “I chased the ghost.” Barry described what had happened.
    “But who would do such a thing, and why?”
    “That I do not know, miss, but there do be something troubling me. When we was all gathered in the hall, all the servants, indoor and outdoor, I looked round the faces to see if I could spot anyone who might have tried to dress up as Judd, someone who looked a bit like him, but I couldn’t see anyone. Then, as I was walking back home, I came to the conclusion that someone was missing out o’ that gathering, but I couldn’t guess who it could be.”
    “John,” said Miss Trumble bleakly.
    “John?”
    “The footman. He is tall and thin. His eyes are pale green. He could have worn a sandy wig.”
    Barry scratched his head in perplexity. “But John is a milksop, a cringing, mincing man-milliner.”
    “Forget his character and try to imagine him in a sandy wig.”
    “Could be,” said Barry reluctantly. “What should we do?”
    “If you are not too tired, hitch up the carriage and we will go back to Mannerling. You say you struck John.”
    “Twas but a glancing blow, miss.”
    “Nonetheless, his head must be examined and his quarters searched.”
    “I’ll get the carriage right away.”
    Charles Blackwood, roused from a late sleep, heard their suspicions. “You did right to come to me direct,” he said, cutting across the governess’s apologies for having awakened him.
    He rang the bell. A footman Miss Trumble did not know answered it promptly.
    “Send the footman, John, to me,” commanded Charles. He turned to Miss Trumble and Barry. “Now we shall see.”
    After some moments, John appeared and stood meekly before them.
    “Come here,” ordered Charles, “and kneel before me.”
    John flashed a sudden look of venom at Miss Trumble, quickly veiled. He knelt in front of his master. Charles whipped off the footman’s white wig and then felt carefully over his close-cropped head.
    Then he replaced the wig and said, “Stand.”
    John did as he was bid. “May I be so bold to ask what this is all about?” he asked.
    “In a minute. After the search for this ghost, when the servants were all assembled in the hall, you were not there.”
    “But I was, sir. I was standing at the back with Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper, and Freddy, the pot-boy.”
    “Bring them here,” ordered Charles.
    They waited in silence until the housekeeper and the pot-boy were brought in by John.
    The