A Corpse in Shining Armour. Caro Peacock

as you could guess from the fine quality of his boots and breeches. I stood outside the fodder room until the last of the boys had gone. Amos put the lid down on the oat bin, secured it with a lead weight to keep out the rats, and turned to me, beaming.

      ‘Haven’t seen you for a few days, Miss Lane. You all right, then?’

      He dusted down an old wooden chair and invited me to sit down.

      ‘Yes, thank you. I’ve been pretty busy.’

      ‘That business of the man in the crate? I heard you were there.’

      Nothing escaped Amos. As long as society depended on horses, grooms would be at the hub of everything. They might be silent in front of their customers, but they listened and gossiped over their pints in the evening. Thanks to Amos, I had access to that network and often found out more there than in offices or drawing rooms.

      ‘What else did you hear?’ I said.

      ‘Not a lot. He was a bit of a bad ’un by most accounts–drink and so forth.’

      ‘Did you hear that from Miles Brinkburn?’

      ‘No. He didn’t talk about it and neither did I. Just what people are saying.’

      ‘You’ve met Miles Brinkburn since it happened, then?’

      ‘I was out at the Eyre Arms with him this morning, having another practice.’

      ‘How did he do?’

      ‘No better than middling. I had to hold back, otherwise I’d have had him out of the saddle again.’

      ‘Did he seem downcast or worried?’

      ‘I wouldn’t say so, no. His normal self, quite cheerful like.’

      So Miles Brinkburn had good powers of recovery.

      ‘What kind of armour was he wearing?’

      ‘The same you saw him in, the suit he’d hired from Pratt’s. I took particular note of that.’

      Because he knew I’d ask. It would have been callous of Miles Brinkburn to wear the ancestral armour after what had happened.

      ‘What about Stephen Brinkburn–was he there?’

      ‘No. I heard their friends have been trying to keep them apart, after what happened. I’ll be seeing Mr Stephen tomorrow. He wants me to look out for a couple of new horses for him.’

      By common consent, we got up and strolled across the yard to Rancie’s box. She was eating her feed, but looked up and blew hrrrr through her nostrils when she saw me. Her black cat watched her, golden-eyed, from the hay manger.

      ‘I’m going out of town for a few days,’ I said to Amos.

      ‘So I hear. The Emerald to Bristol, seven o’clock tomorrow morning, getting down at Maidenhead. They’re trying out a new lead horse as far as Hounslow, so I hope you have a smooth journey.’

      ‘Now how did you know all that?’

      ‘I’ve got a friend helps out here sometimes, sold a horse to the man who works at the Spread Eagle. He knows the lad who’s a clerk in the office where they keep the passenger lists.’

      No point in asking why the lad noticed my name. Amos’s network could probably tag each individual sparrow.

      ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be away,’ I said. ‘Do you think you could keep an eye on the Brinkburn brothers for me, and let me know if anything else happens?’

      ‘Surely. I can send word down by my friends as far as Maidenhead. Can you pick messages up from the Bear? If not, there’s probably a carter goes out to Brinkburn Hall.’