The Peculiar Case of Lord Finsbury's Diamonds: A Casebook of Barnaby Adair Short Novel (The Casebook of Barnaby Adair) Read Online Free PDF Page A

daughter, Gwendolyn, and Culver. Agnes was involved as well, although to what extent I can’t say.”
     Eyes on his notebook, Stokes nodded.
     “The one guest you haven’t mentioned is Mitchell himself.” Barnaby caught Finsbury’s gaze. “How did he come to be here?”
     Stokes looked up and saw Finsbury’s defensiveness intensify, but Finsbury worked to keep his tone level as he said, “I invited Mitchell. I met him at White’s, and he seemed the right sort to introduce to Gwendolyn. She’s twenty-three and I would like to see her appropriately settled.”
     Barnaby managed to stop himself from glancing at the shabby furnishings. “I take it Mitchell was wealthy?”
     Lord Finsbury’s lips pinched even more. “I had reason to believe he was well-off. He spoke of business successes in the colonies and the Americas.”
     Stokes was scribbling madly. “Do you know of any particular company? Any specific association?”
     Finsbury frowned as if wracking his memories, but, eventually, he shook his head. “No—he never mentioned any name.”
     “Where in England did he hail from?” Barnaby asked.
     Again, Finsbury shook his head. “It never came up. His accent was…well, he was one of us. Eton, Harrow, Winchester—something of that sort.”
      Or any good grammar school. Barnaby kept the words from his tongue and instead asked, “So your sister Agnes had organized a house party and you invited Mitchell to join you.”
     Finsbury’s lips tightened. “No. I invited Mitchell, then I asked Agnes to arrange the house party to…”
     “Provide social cover for introducing Mitchell to your daughter.” Barnaby nodded easily. “Entirely understandable—that’s how it’s often done, after all.”
     At Barnaby’s tone, Finsbury’s bristling subsided somewhat.
     “Now,” Stokes said, “to the diamond necklace found in Mitchell’s pocket.” Stokes looked inquiringly at Finsbury. “I understand the necklace belongs to you.”
     “Yes.” Finsbury’s expression dissolved into one of transparently genuine confusion. “And before you ask, I have no idea how Mitchell came to have it in his possession. Until your constable showed it to me, I believed the necklace to be in its box in the wall safe behind that picture.” Finsbury nodded to a portrait of some disapproving ancestor hanging on the wall to his right. “The box was still there, in its accustomed place, but it was empty.” Finsbury paused, then went on, “I can only conclude that the safe had been burgled some time previously, and that Mitchell by chance came across the diamonds, recognized them, secured them, and was bringing them back.”
     “I understand he had sent word he wished to meet with Miss Finsbury,” Stokes murmured.
     Lord Finsbury shifted. “I thought perhaps Mitchell intended to return the diamonds to her in an attempt to regain her favor. I understand they parted under strained circumstances.”
     Stokes exchanged a glance with Barnaby; on the face of it, Finsbury’s supposition might explain why Mitchell had been carrying the necklace.
     “If you could clarify, my lord”—Stokes looked down at his notebook—“where were you yesterday afternoon?”
     Lord Finsbury remained silent for several seconds, no doubt wrestling with the necessity of replying, but eventually, he conceded, “I was here. At my desk. Busying myself with letters. To be frank, I assumed that when Mitchell returned, he would at least do me the courtesy of looking in and explaining himself. But he never arrived.”
     Stokes and Barnaby both glanced at the window, confirming that the view ran along the front of the house; the side lawn and the opening of the path from the village were entirely out of sight.
     Looking back at Lord Finsbury, Stokes said, “Thank you, my lord. Given the circumstances, I fear we will need to interview each of your guests in turn.”
     “Merely a formality,” Barnaby put in. “And it will serve to