Whom the Gods Love by Kate Ross Read Free Book Online Page A

unwell and wouldn't be down again. But why should she have dragged him out of the party to tell him that? Why did he look so disconcerted when he first came out to speak with her? And, finally, why should David Adams stand by listening, then look at Alexander—how does Clare put it?—malevolently?" 
    "Have a look at Mr. Adams's statement, sir. It gives you his side of the story."
    STATEMENT OF MR. DAVID ADAMS
    My real name is David Samuel Abrahms. I find it convenient to call myself Adams for business reasons. I live in Bedford Square and have my counting-house in Cornhill. My business is the arrangement of loans to foreign countries, mainly in South America. I also handle foreign investments. Of what sort? The sort that succeed.
    I arrived at Falkland's party on the twenty-second of April some time between half past ten and eleven. Falkland was flitting about from one group of guests to another as he always did. We talked, but not about anything of consequence. He seemed quite himself. I didn't see much of Mrs. Falkland. She retired with a headache soon after I arrived.
    At about half past eleven, one of the marriageable young ladies was put forward by her mama to sing. Most of the guests crowded into the music room to hear her. Falkland retired into the drawing room to make more space. I went with him. Young ladies showing off their accomplishments set my teeth on edge.
    One of the footmen came in and told Falkland his wife's maid wanted to see him in the hall. He went. I followed him to see what it was all about. The maid was in the hall. So was Quentin Clare, a friend of Falkland's from Lincoln's Inn. Falkland went up and spoke to the maid. No, he didn't seem startled or disturbed by anything she said or did. But since he was turned away from me, I couldn't see his face.
    The maid told him Mrs. Falkland still had her headache and wouldn't be coming back to the party. She didn't say anything more—just curtsied and went out through the door to the servants' stairs. I went back into the drawing room. No, I wasn't angry with Falkland.
    Why should I be? I didn't look at him malevolently or any other way. If Clare wanted to implicate me in the murder, he might have thought of something more original.
    Julian put down the statement. "Somehow I rather doubt Mr. Adams made a good impression on the magistrates." 
    "Not by half, sir. Insolent, they said he was. 'Twixt you and me, sir, I don't think they'd be sorry to find he was our man." 
    "He may have realized that. A man of business, a Jew, a rank outsider. I should think it would be a relief to everyone from the Home Secretary down to the lowliest gaoler to pin the murder on him."
    "He didn't help matters by talking so brassy to the magistrates."
    "He wouldn't be the first man who felt driven to bring about the very outcome he feared." Julian leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs and crossing one sleekly trousered ankle over the other. "Tell me, what do you make of this affair of the thirty thousand pounds?"
    "Very rum, sir." Vance shook his head. "Here's Mr. Adams, such a knowing gentleman in money matters, goes to all the trouble of buying up Mr. Falkland's notes-of-hand—then he turns 'em all over to Mr. Falkland and takes nary a farthing in exchange."
    "How did you find out about it?"
    "After Mr. Falkland was killed, I went through his ledgers. He kept close track of his money, being very took up with investing, as you'll have heard. There was an entry on the second of April, in his handwriting, crediting himself with the amount of the notes. I did a bit of digging in the City, and I found out Mr. Adams had been buying them up."
    Julian glanced over the statement again. "His account of Martha's calling Alexander out of the party dovetails with Clare's, except that he denies having looked at Falkland malevolently. What does Martha say?"
    Vance had her statement ready. Her name was Martha Gilmore. She had been with Mrs. Falkland for thirteen years, first as