Til Death Do Us Part by Sara Fraser

towards his inferiors in wealth and position.
    As on so many other occasions during his life, Tom was battling with an inner conflict between his love and loyalty for his country, and his resentment for the contempt displayed by the vast majority of its ruling caste towards the ordinary people of England.
    â€˜No matter what else might happen in the parish, I’m now to disregard it and concentrate on solving the case of this bloody Noble Fop’s missing dogs! If only I had the power to alter such a state of affairs!’
    Then from the deep recesses of his mind a voice sounded wearily. ‘I beg you yet again, Thomas, to please stop your pathetically futile sniveling and set about solving this case. Then you will be free to deal with other crimes as and when they need your attention.’
    Tom grinned wryly and his anger subsided.

SEVEN
Tuesday, 15th January
Midday
    J ohn Mence, proprietor of the Unicorn Hotel and Inn, the largest hostelry in Redditch Town, always took great interest in any new customers. This morning he was taking a close look at the quality of the horse belonging to the guest who had arrived very late on the previous night, and who was now partaking of a solitary late breakfast in the dining room.
    â€˜What d’you reckon to this nag and its tack?’ Mence asked his stable hand.
    â€˜The bugger’s ready for the bloody knacker’s yard, and the tack’s naught but patched-up rubbish!’ the elderly hand judged scathingly.
    â€˜I’ll second that.’ Mence nodded agreement as he left the stables.
    In the dining room the guest had finished eating and was now savouring the fragrant smoke of a cheroot and taking sips from a steaming cup of coffee.
    John Mence went into his small office adjoining the dining room and through a hidden peephole studied the powerfully built stranger, taking inventory of his fashionably styled riding clothes and boots, his elaborately curled hair and the French-style whiskers which met under the chin of his florid features. He also noted that the man’s fashionable clothing appeared somewhat threadbare in places, the riding boots down at heel, and this, coupled with the state of the horse and tack, confirmed his earlier opinion.
    â€˜I’ll need to keep close watch on this bugger.’
    Mence closed the peephole, made his way into the dining room and bowed.
    â€˜Good morning to you, Sir. I’m John Mence, the proprietor of this establishment. I regret I was not present to receive you upon your arrival.’
    â€˜Pray do not distress yourself, Master Mence. I took no offence at your absence. It was of no consequence.’
    The guest dismissed the apology with a lordly wave of his be-ringed hand. Then he rose and bowed in return. ‘Permit me to introduce myself; I am Archibald Ainsley. My name may not be entirely unknown to you since I am led to believe that I possess some degree of repute as a luminary of the theatrical profession.’
    Mence smiled and said smoothly, ‘I do believe that I’ve heard your name mentioned in that connection, Sir, and I’m honoured to have you beneath my roof. But may I make so bold as to enquire why you’re visiting Redditch? We’ve no theatres here; we’re only country bumpkins sadly lacking in any such citified entertainments.’
    Archibald Ainsley resumed his seat, took a long pull at his cheroot and slowly dribbled out the resulting mouthful of smoke before declaiming unctuously, ‘This is the very reason I’m here, Master Mence. I know only too well how lacking in civilized culture these industrial districts are, and I’ve long harboured a dream of bringing the same civilized culture to these same sadly unenlightened districts.’
    He paused, took another long drag on his cheroot, slowly dribbled the smoke through his lips and continued, ‘Thanks to my success in the theatre I can now make that dream a reality. I have engaged a cast of