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Chapter 9
As Agatha tucked in to a steamy bowl of pottage, Harriet told her all that she knew of Thomas Carter’s wife, Phoebe.
“She is always being portrayed in the society pages of the newspapers as being a 'good time girl'.” said Harriet. “Rumours of her infidelity are of no great surprise in middle-class circles and she is shunned by the local church as being a fallen woman. Although, the Sloane Square contingent are only to happy to have her along to their drinks parties.”
“But is there any evidence of her being unfaithful to Thomas?” said Agatha finishing off her breakfast.
“No-one to my knowledge has actually seen her with another man.” Harriet concluded.
Agatha thought for a moment, just Society gossip being broadcasted about town. No hard evidence, she closed her notebook. Phoebe Carter, for now, was a closed door.
The trail of the murderer was getting colder by the minute, Agatha needed to act fast. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she announced to Harriet. “I think it’s time we had another look at that sarcophagus.”
Courtesy of the maid, Sarah. Harriet and Agatha left 24 Harrington Square dressed as two washer women. Harriet so wanted to hail a cab, but as Agatha pointed out, it would look to suspicious if washer women could afford the fare. So, they decided to walk.
The weather had not improved since the previous night, the streets were still fog-bound but they were less of a danger in the subdued daylight with more people around going about their business.
The imposing structure of the British Museum once again soon dominated their view. This time, however, the black wrought iron gates were open and Harriet and Agatha passed through walking with the London gentry as they made their way to the museum’s entrance.
Harriet had to remind herself and Agatha, that they were dressed as washer women and so their door would be around the back through the tradesman entrance.
When they arrived at the door, a large barrel-shaped man wearing a long black coat stood in the doorway, blocking their entrance.
“You’re late!” he boomed. “You...
“She is always being portrayed in the society pages of the newspapers as being a 'good time girl'.” said Harriet. “Rumours of her infidelity are of no great surprise in middle-class circles and she is shunned by the local church as being a fallen woman. Although, the Sloane Square contingent are only to happy to have her along to their drinks parties.”
“But is there any evidence of her being unfaithful to Thomas?” said Agatha finishing off her breakfast.
“No-one to my knowledge has actually seen her with another man.” Harriet concluded.
Agatha thought for a moment, just Society gossip being broadcasted about town. No hard evidence, she closed her notebook. Phoebe Carter, for now, was a closed door.
The trail of the murderer was getting colder by the minute, Agatha needed to act fast. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she announced to Harriet. “I think it’s time we had another look at that sarcophagus.”
Courtesy of the maid, Sarah. Harriet and Agatha left 24 Harrington Square dressed as two washer women. Harriet so wanted to hail a cab, but as Agatha pointed out, it would look to suspicious if washer women could afford the fare. So, they decided to walk.
The weather had not improved since the previous night, the streets were still fog-bound but they were less of a danger in the subdued daylight with more people around going about their business.
The imposing structure of the British Museum once again soon dominated their view. This time, however, the black wrought iron gates were open and Harriet and Agatha passed through walking with the London gentry as they made their way to the museum’s entrance.
Harriet had to remind herself and Agatha, that they were dressed as washer women and so their door would be around the back through the tradesman entrance.
When they arrived at the door, a large barrel-shaped man wearing a long black coat stood in the doorway, blocking their entrance.
“You’re late!” he boomed. “You...
