The Bradmoor Murder (2013)
“It was the notorious Lady Gault in the most beautiful frame that one could buy in Bond Street. I was astonished to see her picture in this house, or in any house.
She was an unspeakable person.
Sir Rufus had sent me word to ride over and sit with him. The fifth Duke of Dorset was expected on this night. The great old English house, above the ancient oak trees, and the dark, swift river, was lighted and silent, with that tense vague expectancy which inanimate things seem sometimes able to take on. Sir Rufus was the greatest surgeon in England. He was alone in the smoking room but for me, with a bottle of port on the table at his elbow.
He watched me looking at the picture.
“There is another that goes with it,” he said. There was a sort of glee in his voice. “One I always bring out when I am here.” He pointed to a little frame beyond the bottle of port. It was the Rajah of Gujrat, photographed by “The Bystander” at one of the Ranelagh polo games.
Sir Rufus laughed.
“You will understand this,”
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