The Welfare of the Dead by Lee Jackson Page B

continues, ‘you might come to dinner one evening? Our Mrs. Figgis is really a delightful cook.’
    Mr. Langley smiles. ‘I would be most happy to, ma’am, but I fear I had better conclude my arrangements with your husband first; I would not wish to impose upon his hospitality before we have settled matters.’
    â€˜Well, I will talk to him about it,’ replies Mrs. Woodrow, smiling.
    â€˜Perhaps I can escort you to your carriage?’ he replies.
    Mrs. Woodrow assents and, with Lucy still rather tearful, they begin to walk back towards the Inner Circle.
    â€˜You are in the same business as Mr. Woodrow, Mr. Langley?’ asks Annabel, as they approach the brougham.
    â€˜Well, I am an architect by training, Miss Krout. I met Mr. Woodrow in my professional capacity – I am designing his new premises.’
    â€˜But Mr. Langley is also considering investing in the business,’ adds Mrs. Woodrow. ‘Isn’t that right, sir?’
    â€˜Indeed, ma’am. I have some money to invest and Mr. Woodrow has suggested a partnership. It is just a matter of agreeing the terms; but these things can take some time. A partnership should not be entered into lightly, by either party.’
    For a moment, Annabel Krout fancies that Richard Langley’s gaze lingers upon her as he speaks. Then, he steps to one side, politely ushering both women out through the park gate and onto the road.
    â€˜Well,’ says Langley, as they come to the waiting brougham, with the coachman perched upon the driver’s seat, ‘here we are again.’
    â€˜I am so grateful we met, sir,’ says Mrs. Woodrow. ‘I don’t know what I might have done if—’
    â€˜Please, ma’am, you have thanked me already. I bid you both goodbye; and you, young lady,’ he says, leaning down towards Lucy, ‘should be more considerate to your mama.’
    Lucy says nothing as her mother and Annabel Krout say their goodbyes. Langley, in turn, doffs his hat and departs, continuing his walk at the same brisk pace as when they met him.
    â€˜Such a charming young man,’ exclaims Mrs. Woodrow.
    â€˜Yes, he is,’ replies Annabel.
    â€˜Phelps,’ says Mrs. Woodrow, turning to address the coachman, ‘do come and open the door, if you please.’
    â€˜Sorry, ma’am,’ replies the coachman, jumping down from his box-seat, ‘I was just keeping an eye on the horse.’
    â€˜I don’t care what you were just doing, please pay attention. I have had a trying day already.’
    â€˜Sorry, ma’am.’
    Annabel looks at the driver’s seat; she notices a newspaper, hastily pushed under the cushion. There is only a little of the text visible, but she cannot help but shudder when she reads it:
    Dreadful Murder of Two Young Women
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C HAPTER SEVEN

    J ASPER W OODROW’S BUSINESS premises are situated upon the busy thoroughfare of High Holborn, within a substantial building, in the classical style, a short walk from New Oxford Street. The property is unmistakable, since the building itself is topped with a tower of letters, sculpted in iron, that project above the roof, spelling out the words ‘Woodrow’s General Mourning Warehouse’. Further announcements are liberally painted upon the brick-work, promising ‘Mourning for Families, In Correct Taste’, ‘Court and Family Mourning’, and from the cornice itself hangs the proud motto ‘Every Article of the Very Best Description’. Each sign, moreover, has its own gaslights, which can be illuminated at nightfall or at the slightest hint of fog. In short, no expense has been spared to advertise the propriety, variety and suitability of the wares within; thus it is a business that, to all appearances, thrives.
    Jasper Woodrow himself, however, sits in his office, looking rather vacantly into space. Before him, laid upon his burgundy leather-topped desk, is a portfolio of papers,