After the first impressions it was time to delve into the longest, most tedious part of the investigation. He wished he had an assistant to at least take notes for him; perhaps he was too particular and didn't know how to work with other people – real comments made to him by one of the grand total of three who had inquired after the announcement posted on the newspaper, and had followed him on a simple case to test out affinity. To be fair, one had ended up a much more sinister investigation than anticipated, the poor guy must have been traumatized. Of course it hadn't work out.

Distracted by these thoughts, he had Felix Beckwith called in to start with questioning.

"Tell me in as much detail as possible what happened since the beginning of the party, including information that might seem too abysmal to include. Anything can be useful."

"Well, let's see... the first to arrive were the Camdens. James and I have known each other our whole lives... every time we participate together in an even, we meet some time beforehand to catch up, or chat about anything. We picked up the habit when we were younger, I used to be such an anxious lad. Tonight, for some reason, we recalled old times, which is quite unusual, especially for him, he wasn't the type to look to the past." He paused. His eyes were lost somewhere in the back of the room. If he hadn't been sitting fairly close, Alderton wouldn't have been able to notice the watery eyes, and the flash of vulnerable sadness that passed through the otherwise stoic face. "We paced the garden, while Alice stayed inside with my mother. During that stroll I saw John G., the gardener, for the last time."

"New hire, wasn't he?"

"Yes, that he is."

"You haven't been so lucky with the help as of late, have you? It appears that you've had quite a few new hires."

"The situation hasn't been... ideal. The previous cook got sick a few months ago, the gardener was very old and had arthritis, which didn't allow him to work properly. We've been wanting to replace mama's nurse for the same reason. I've had to personally fire a maid around a fortnight ago."

"Ow, what happened with her?"

Beckwith looked at him for the first time since starting his tale. His cool expression had come back; it might have daunted, if only the detective could get over his not so slight annoyance at being there in the first place. "You don't like this?" he thought. "Me neither, dear Felix, me neither. But there is no time to waste doubting my process. Hurry up."

As if he'd heard the mental speech, the man sighed and spoke right then: "She was caught in my study, probably searching for some object of value to take for herself. Another maid heard her breaking a pot, seeing her before she could run to disappear."

"Did she ever confess?"

"I don't see how any of this is relevant to the case at hand. But I'll choose to trust, for now. She barely spoke in between sobs up until she was in her cab to go back home."

"I see. Please, continue with the story of tonight. What happened after the chat with Mr. Camden?"

"When we came back in Mr. Eaton had arrived, and was chatting with the ladies. He has a position of management in one of my mills, a capable, sensible man he is. We needed to discuss an urgent matter of business, so we went off to the study." That room was the center of much going on in the house; it was perhaps a coincidence, or it could mean something – too early to tell. "It didn't take us long, we went back in the drawing room after not an hour had passed. All the other guests had come in for the party, which had started without us. Well, all except Mr. Davenport, that is, who came about half and an hour later."

"How come?"

He scoffed. "You must ask him. And while you're at it, esteemed detective, ask him about his constant, injurious words spoken about my person while I'm not around, and about his abuse of my friend's kindness, whom was most regrettably asked to act this way by myself in hopes of reinstating an amiable intercourse, by shamelessly and with no restraint court his sister, even announcing liberally that he meant to make an offer. He might have not killed him but-"

The man stopped himself mid-sentence, his pale cheeks flushed with anger's passion. He got up, turning his back at the other, ashamed at his own loss of temper.

"Mr. Beckwith," started the detective after a couple of seconds of silence, now somewhat intrigued - not by the possible revelation, but by an image forming in his head made of insignificant observations. "Do you suspect that Mr. Camden was murdered by Mr. Davenport?"

"I can't say anything, because I did not see anything, as I was occupied with some other guest at the time, I would have stopped it if I hadn't been. But you'll hear other people's accounts, and make your own conclusions."

Pride and drama always got in the way of a clean investigation. Alderton decided to get the conversation back on track, instead of insisting – he would get the information that he wanted one way or another. "Can you tell me about when the body was discovered?"

The man sat back down, regaining his composure. "I couldn't see James anywhere. I was told he had gone to my study to discuss with Mr. Davenport, who in that moment was in the drawing room. When I went there to check, well..."

"Were you alone?"

"No, Mr. Eaton was with me. We were having a conversation about I don't remember what."

"What about miss Camden, were was she during the discovery? And everyone else?"

"She was outside, I was told. I went to call her, I wanted to be the one to break the news, but she opened the main door right as I was approaching it. All the other guests were in the drawing room."

"Very well, then. I'll ask you one last question, for now. I saw the victim was wearing a mask on his face, this was a sort of masked ball, I assume."

"Correct. The missus is quite the romantic type, she has desired to host such a party for some time now. I have to indulge her, fragile as she is currently."

"I see. And was every guest wearing one throughout the party?"

"The Camdens weren't wearing it when they came in, they put it on after. I'm not sure about everyone else, they were all wearing one when I saw them after I came out of my study, though."

"Alright, thank you very much Mr. Beckwith."