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“And you are familiar with Gordon Callister, who Mrs. Coyle said visits frequently?”

“I have never spoken to him, of course, but I have seen him during his visits here.”

“Did you ever overhear an argument between Mr. Pennington and Mr. Callister?”

A muscle ticked at the edge of Teague’s jaw and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Discretion is part of my duty in service, sir. My employer’s conversations are none of my concern.”

Gideon folded his hands on the table and met the young man’s gaze directly. He saw a bit of a challenge in the valet’s eyes, as if he wished to prove his loyalty to the man he’d served for half a decade. But that man was dead, and Gideon needed to know all he could. Discretion be damned.

“I understand your wish to protect your employer’s privacy, but I must find his killer, Mr. Teague.”

The valet’s skin paled a bit at that.

“Did you overhear an argument between your employer and Mr. Callister last week?”

“Yes, sir.” Teague’s words emerged as if he was only barely letting them escape between his clenched teeth.

“What did you overhear?”

To Gideon’s shock, Teague closed his eyes, dipped his head, and rubbed the palms of his hands against his trousers.

When he looked up, his eyes were red, as if he held back tears.

“Don’t wish to accuse anyone, sir. Not my place.” His accent had slipped back into something closer to the East End stews where Gideon himself spent his early years.

“I am not asking you to accuse anyone, Teague. But I do need the truth. It will help me as I investigate this matter.”

All at once, his shoulders lowered and the valet nodded.

“Yes, sir. I heard Mr. Callister shouting at Mr. Pennington. They were in his study, and even with the door closed, voices were raised loud enough for a few of us to hear.”

Gideon poised his pencil above his notepad page. “And what was said?”

“He said that he would not allow Mr. Pennington to win. He said, ‘I won’t let you win in this matter. I’ll see you in the ground first.’”

Gideon noted Callister’s words as Teague sat watching him.

“People say things in anger,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Did you hear a reply from your employer to Mr. Callister’s threat?”

Teague shook his head. He took a long deep breath as if steeling himself. “The study door swung open, and I stepped away,” he said quietly. “Felt as if I should. Neither of us wished to be caught lingering in the hall.”

“You and Miss McGuire?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you see who came out of the study door?”

“It was Mr. Callister. He stormed out and straight to the front door. Mr. Burton helped him with his coat, and then he departed.”

“When you saw Mr. Pennington again in the course of your duties, did he seem shaken by the argument?”

Teague shook his head. “No, sir. Indeed, he was set to spend that evening with Mr. Callister.”

Gideon tipped his head. “At Mr. Callister’s home or his club?”

“I’m not sure. Only that he mentioned that he was meeting him that evening.”