Page 76 of The Gift of Patience
“This way, lad,” Westwood said.
Patience directed Peter to go in and fetch some biscuits and milk from Cook and bring them back to the stables. She then followed Westwood. He led Billy to the room where they had held his father only a day before. Had it only been one day?
“Have a seat and tell us why you’ve come.” Westwood leaned against the desk and pointed to a chair, and the boy sat nervously, his gaze darting back and forth between them. “I over’eard ’em talkin’ about ’ow my pa might get transported. I wanted to offer meself up to go with ’im.”
“Does the gang know you’ve left, Billy?”
He looked down at his hands. “I suspect they know by now.”
“I can arrange for you to be with your father, but you must help me first.”
Peter entered, carrying a tray with a jug of milk, sandwiches, and fresh jam tarts. He set it down on the table and gave Patience a wary look. “Thank you, Peter.”
She put some sandwiches and tarts on a plate and set them before Billy, then filled him a glass of milk. “Go on. I am guessing you have not eaten today.”
“No, miss. I was tryin’ to get to Da before they rode out, but ’e was too well guarded.” He practically inhaled the sandwiches.
Westwood waited until Billy finished and drank down the milk.
“Billy, were you ever with your dad when he received messages?”
The look of guilt on his face was telling. “Only once when I wasn’t ’posed to be there. I followed ’im and ’id.”
“Where was this?”
“At The Golden Goose. It’s where everyone gathers after work of the evenin’.”
“Did you ever see the man that gives orders?”
“I didn’t see ’is face. ’E was a right fancy toff. ’E wore one of them tall ’ats and carried a stick with a shiny snake on top and smoked a cigar.”
“Was he tall or short? Fat or thin?”
“Mebbe neither. Middle, I’d say. Liked his drink, though. ’E patted ’is stomach.”
“Could you tell how old he was?” Patience asked.
“Old, mebbe bout ’is age. But not as old as Da.”
Patience was hard-pressed not to laugh aloud. Old, indeed.
“You seem to have a keen eye, Billy.” Patience detected sarcasm is Westwood’s voice.
Billy shrugged a shoulder. “People never think I know nuffink.”
“Is there anything else you saw that might help us identify the man? It could be very important.”
“Like what?”
“The colour of his hair? Did he leave in a carriage or by horse? Did you see what colour the stone was in his ring?”
“No, miss.” He shook his head, disappointed as if he were failing them.
“You’ve done well. If you think of anything else, just tell someone that you need to speak with me. Even if it seems small, it might help.”
“Did I ’elp you some?” he asked eagerly.
Xander began to bark and she could hear Peter trying to hush him outside the door.
