A few hours later, I was alone in my room. Alone, and very, very worried.  Nothing made any sense,  and I was panicking a little inside. I had found nothing of any interest in any of the other guest rooms, and not much else in the servants' quarters. This investigation really was going nowhere, and I meant nowhere.

There was a little thing that bugged me, though. In one of the butlers' rooms, I had found a whole lot of unused blue stamps. The butler in question, a young man named Stephenson, told me he liked collecting stamps. But usually, don't people collect lots of different stamps? That was what I thought,  but I kept it to myself.

To make matters worse, i was beginning to think Newham was getting a little sick of Violetta Dalton already. I knew he loved to be in control of the situation, and the fact that she was taking over everything and generally treating him pretty poorly wasn't going down well, from what I could see. I sighed. I was acting like  Violetta Dalton was a real  person here, not just a character I'd made up in my head. Perhaps I should have taken the character in a different direction, I mused. I myself was struggling  to  keep  on the ball and in control all of  the time. Still, there was nothing I could do about it now. I  had to get Violetta Dalton ready for dinner. 

After about half an hour of pacing and worrying and changing my mind over and over, I decided on a dark green affair that looked remarkably similar to Isabel's old black dress which had been handed down to me. This dress, though, fitted me much better, and I personally thought it looked rather becoming. I had found a little black jewelled barrette in one of the London shops, and I slipped it into my hair, which was still in the ringlet bun that I had put in that morning. I smiled, before hurrying out of the door and along the hall.

"Miss Dalton?"

I paused.

"Good evening, Mr. Arthman" I said courteously, trying to hide my emotions, which had been thrown into  a spin. Why was he waiting for me? Did he want to talk to me about something? I still disliked his accent, as Americans weren't my cup of tea, and definitely weren't Violetta Dalton's cup of tea.

"You look beautiful tonight" the American carried on, as my eyes practically fell out of my head. He was trying to court me. Or Violetta. What was he thinking?

"Thank you" I said stiffly.

"Can I escort you down?" Arthman asked. I took a deep breath.

"Yes" I replied coolly. He offered me his arm, and I took it, a little reluctantly, thinking of Newham. I hoped I could make it up to him somehow, tomorrow.

As we were walking down the stairs, I happened to look behind me. What I saw amazed me. Newham was following me down the stairs, with...with Evangelyn Savoy clinging to his arm, giggling away in her own silly manner. Our eyes met, and the awkwardness descended like a tonne of bricks. Evangelyn twittered loudly and hurried down to join us, dragging Newham behind her like a pet poodle.

"Mr. Arthman! Miss Dalton!" she gushed, beaming. "What a lovely evening! Will you both not join us for dinner? Mr. Carter has already agreed to dine with us."

I shot Newham a look. He shot me the same one back. I sighed. We had put ourselves in the same awkward situation, both agreeing to dinner with someone else, so although I had no ammunition to shoot him with later, niether did he. I scowled to myself, and contented with allowing Arthman to lead me into the dining room behind Newham and Evangelyn. I merely acknowledged his constant chatter, grateful that my character allowed me the excuse of not talking. We all sat down at a table for five, to be joined minutes later by the blonde young lady who had slighted me earlier that morning. Davina Longleath. Ugh.

"Good evening, all!" she said lightly, sitting down with a rustle of skirts next to Arthman. I was sitting on the American's other side, with Evangelyn next to me, and Newham sandwiched between the two twittering terrors. I actually felt quite sorry for him. We all ordered,  and the soup was brought in a few minutes later.

"So, Miss Dalton, what have you found out?" Evangelyn asked keenly, staring straight at me. I finished my mouthful of soup-it was a beef and onion affair, very tasty-and gave her a chilly stare.

"I'm afraid that's all classified" I replied bluntly. Evangelyn sighed.

"How silly of me! I should have known. Mr. Carter,  is there anything you can tell us?" she smiled, batting her eyelashes at Newham and giggling,  actions which I assumed were supposed to be flirtatious,  but made her look more mentally unstable.

"Well" Newham smiled . "I'm afraid I know as little as you do, Miss Savoy" he added, sighing. "That's her way, I'm afraid. She's very fond of the dramatic climax, is Miss Dalton."

Evangelyn twittered childishly. My nose twitched. Newham was mocking me. I didn't like it. If he was trying to get back at me for my, or rather Violetta's, actions earlier that day, then he was doing a very good job.

"So what can you tell us, Mr. Carter?" Davinia smiled, leaning into Newham with a overly friendly smile. I couldn't help thinking how commonly she was acting. She seemed more from my class than Evangelyn's, who, frightful though she was, was obviously a real lady. Davinia though... She was dressed  like a lady, with furs and frills and pretty jewels to boot, but then so was I, and I wasn't a proper lady. I filed this away for later puzzling.

"You don't talk much, Miss Dalton" Arthman muttered, out of the corner of his mouth.

"Regrettably not" I replied, finishing my soup. "You must forgive my lack of conversation, but like so many great thinkers I am also much more agreeably occupied when I'm alone."

"So you're a reader, then?" Arthman smiled, looking cheekily at me out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes." I didn't know how else to respond. That small remark had proved to me that I was actally dealing with more than the average American tourist here. I winced. My deductions earlier that day seemed insanely dim-witted, now, and I realized how carefully I was going to have to tread.

"So, tell me of your life in America" I said, sitting back a little. Arthman seemed pleased with the fact I had decided to talk to him.

"Well, I was born in South Carolina, on the East Coast" Arthman said. "I moved to New York City when I was eighteen, and spent the next seven years working in a puny little office job. I still work there now. I took a holiday to England, just to get away from the place, and spent a week in London before coming here for a bit of peace. Unfortunately for me, that wasn't what I got."

"Yes" I sighed. "I'm sorry about that. Where did you stay in London?"

"Oh" Arthman wavered a little. He must have been told I came from London. Hopefully nobody had specified which part.

"The Hotel Majestic" he said finally, and I nodded.

"I believe I know it." I gave him a tiny smile. "Near Paddington Station, yes?"

"Yes" Arthman smiled, laughing. I allowed myself a small chuckle, but I was feeling rather vulnerable inside. I knew for a fact there were no Hotel Majestics, or any hotels, for that matter, anywhere near Paddington Station. Arthman obviously had never been to London, if he had lied about that then he could have lied about the rest of his life, too. I nodded courteously, keeping my thoughts to myself.

Dinner after that was an awkward affair, from my point of view. I kept up the small talk with Arthman, for the sake of the awkward silence, as we were both essentially redundant as Evangelyn and Davinia fawned over Newham. Ugh.

When we finally bade each other good night, I was bored, annoyed, and itching to think properly. To my further annoyance, Arthman insisted on accompanying me to my room. His fascination with me was disturbing, especially now I knew he was not who he said he was. The odd thing now was, after spending an evening in his company, he didn't disgust me as much as he had originally. I hated to admit I was warming to his brash manner and highly inappropriate flirting.

"Goodnight, Miss Dalton" he drawled, smiling naughtily, and I fought not to crack a smile back.

"Goodnight" I replied curtly, going into my room and attempting to close the door. Arthman stuck his foot in the doorway.

"Can I not tempt you to come out walking with me tomorrow?" he pleaded.

"I have thefts to solve. Good night!" I replied coldly, kicking his foot out of the way and shutting the door swiftly. I heard his laughter as he walked away, and I locked the door as he went. I wasn't entirely sure what I was going to do the next day, but it would not be walking and it would not be with him.

I sat down on my bed, beginning to unpick my hair, and trying to relieve the strange feeling I had in my chest. It felt like a giggle, but it was caught, and it made me feel tense, but then weak all over. I got changed and climbed into bed after brushing out my hair, and the feeling loosened a little as I drifted off to sleep.

I woke a little after nine, and lazily got up. I wanted to read something. I needed  to read something. Looking through my wardrobe, I found a nice duck-egg blue affair with white lace on the cuffs and neckline, puffy sleeves and a nice, swirling, darker blue pattern on the bodice.

I put some nice white shoes on, and decided against wearing a white shawl,  instead opting for a plain white headband and a plaited bun, teasing out some little ringlets of my hair to frame my face. Satisfied, I turned my mind to finding something to read, and I hurried downstairs.

"Excuse me." I stopped a butler passing in the hall. I recognised him as Stephenson, the butler with the interesting stamp collection.

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked politely. I felt very important, being called ma'am, but I acted like it was a normal occurrence.

"I was wondering if you had a library" I said, giving him a chilly stare, intended to put him off.

"Yes, ma'am" he replied, coping well under the pressure. "Just along that corridor, and it's the double doors on your right. Would you like breakfast in the library, ma'am?" he then asked.

"If possible" I replied, giving him an almost satified smile. He nodded, smiling, as if I had been just another guest. It looked like I was going to have to try a bit harder to break him, I decided, striding along the corridor to the library, not giving Stephenson a second glance. He was a young man, barely twenty, with an open face and wide features. His hair was a coal black, slicked back off his face with far too much hair product, and he was slight in stature, but wiry. He looked like he had the world ahead of him, and with a sturdy disposition like I had just seen, he was definitely going places. The library was small, with a few chairs dotted around, all four walls covered from floor to ceiling in books, not to mention a big square island in the middle, with books covering every square inch of that as well. I smiled. I thought I might read up a little on famous thefts and heists, to try and spark a bit of inspiration. Stephenson came in with a tray, bearing a full English breakfast. I gave him a steely glare as he set it down, but he just smiled, nodded to me, and walked away again, to my annoyance. I was nibbling at the bacon when I heard a cough. Dr. Scott was standing in front of me.

"Hello" he whispered,  dragging a chair over and sitting down.

"Hello" I replied. "Have you seen Newham this morning?"

"Carter, call him Carter. In case we're overheard."

"Sorry. Have you seen him?"

The doctor sighed.

"Yes" he admitted. "Sitting with Miss Savoy and Miss Longleath, in the breakfast room. He looked very happy."

I scowled a little.

"He doesn't get along very well with...well, Violetta" I explained. "I'm not sure how much help he's going to give us."

"She's a bit of a cow, isn't she?" Dr. Scott sighed.

"She is" I agreed. "But she's stuck here now."

"She is" Dr. Scott smiled thinly. "But I wanted to tell you something."

"Hmm?" I asked.

"That butler, Stephenson. I feel like I've seen him before."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

I sighed.

"Tell me as soon as you remember. I need as much help as I can get."

"Do you know anything yet?" the doctor asked. I frowned.

"I know how Mr. Savoy's emeralds were stolen" I told him. "But I don't know where they are, and I don't know about the others. Could you...could you try and get Mr and Mrs Hart talking to you about their experiences? I need as much detail as possible, if you don't mind."

"I'll be glad to" Dr. Scott smiled. "I was hoping for something to do. It's awfully boring, sitting around doing nothing."

"I'm glad of your help" I sighed. "Not that Newham's going to give me any."

"You know what he's like" the doctor said comfortingly.

"I do" I said reluctantly. "Or at least, I thought I did."