Silver Glass

Chapter II: Alec Lennox

There's a lot of difference between listening and hearing. -- G. K. Chesterton

A winding drive led up the hill. Towards the top the trees gave way to a lawn, which in turn gave way to carefully-planned flowerbeds. The house itself was a large rectangular building with two smaller squares on either side.

Yo-han walked up to the main door. A footman in livery waited just inside. He stared at Yo-han with a blank expression that somehow radiated disapproval.

"Ah yes, another of Madam's friends," he said blandly. "This way, sir."

Yo-han quickly corrected him. "No, I was invited by Mr. Lennox." Belatedly he realised his mistake and said, "Lord Kilskeery."

The footman stopped and stared at him in open astonishment. Yo-han took a quick mental survey of his clothes and decided this wasn't because he'd committed a crime against fashion, so it could only be because Lord Kilskeery was not in the habit of inviting guests. He filed that away.

"It's all right, Tompkins," a voice said behind the footman. The speaker was hidden from Yo-han's sight by the open door. "I'll bring him to the study."

Tompkins stepped aside, looking utterly baffled, and the speaker appeared around the door. It was the strange young man from last night. For the first time Yo-han got a good look at him. His first thought was that Király had been mistaken, and the guests from the Ottoman embassy were in fact a half-remembered glimpse of this man.

"This way," said the strange man, and set off across the entrance hall.

Yo-han followed. He took note of everything along the way, including that they were moving in the exact opposite direction to the voices of the other guests. From the furniture and decorating he concluded that Alexander Lennox had plenty of money. But that money had originally been his wife's. It might be an unimportant detail but he noticed it all the same.

His guide stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall. He turned and stared very hard at Yo-han. There was something that wasn't quite hostility and wasn't quite fear in his eyes. Defiance, perhaps.

"You're a detective?" he asked. He had just the faintest trace of an accent. Yo-han noticed it but couldn't identify it, though he thought it had a faint similarity to Russian.

"Yes," Yo-han said. "And who are you?"

The man hesitated. "David Eames," he said, not looking Yo-han in the eye. "I'm Al— a valet."

Now was as good a time as any to start asking questions. "Then perhaps you can tell me, has your employer ever behaved oddly before?"

Eames — though if that was his real name, then Yo-han was Sejong the Great — drew himself up like a snake about to strike. Rage shone in his eyes. "You think he's crazy, you bastard," he snarled. "He's not! I know that bitch is enough to drive anyone crazy, but he's as sane as I am!"

His expression suddenly went blank. He turned and strode away. Yo-han had to almost run to keep up with him. Along the way he reflected that he had learnt two very important facts: Eames was loyal to his employer, and hated his employer's wife.

He also couldn't help thinking, based on the man's extraordinary ability to change from indifference to rage and back again, that claiming Lennox was as sane as him wasn't a great testament to Lennox's sanity.

Eames led him to a door. He knocked sharply, then opened it and gestured for Yo-han to go in.

Yo-han found himself in a cluttered study that was more like a small library. He glanced quickly at the shelves, just long enough to see that most of the books were heavy and in what looked like Greek, before turning his attention to Lennox.