Page 25 of The Trick of the Treasure
“It wasn’t a criticism,” Solomon said. It had, in fact, been a deliberate provocation to see if Sydney would defend his father. “I merely wondered if Mr. Devine is interested in antiquities too.”
“He’s interested in beauty,” Sydney said. “So he might be, if his father didn’t keep him on such a short leash. Wants him in the family mill, but Ben’s more of a poetry man. You don’t suspect him, do you?”
“We can’t rule out anyone familiar with the house.”
Sydney met his gaze, the amusement more pronounced now. “Especially those who live here and know where the keys are kept? Want to search my room, Mr. Grey?”
Solomon smiled back. “I have no such authority, Mr. Lloyd, nor, at the moment, any such interest.”
“No point anyway,” Sydney said. “My father’s already roared through every room in the house.”
Well, that explained why the servants were so uppity. A mixture of outrage and fear, and yet still loyal. Solomon hoped his client was worthy of that.
“I say, it’s dashed cold in here, isn’t it? Shall we go somewhere warmer? I daresay it will be more comfortable in the drawing room. Will the charming Mrs. Silver be joining us today?”
“Not this morning,” Solomon said, rising and picking up his hat to follow.
Surprisingly, Sydney said, “Give me your hat and coat, sir. Garrick can’t have thought you were staying.”
“Wishful thinking, no doubt. Thefts often lead to difficult times for domestic servants.”
“Very tolerant fellow, aren’t you?” Sydney said, leading him upstairs. “I suppose you have to be… In your line of work, I mean,” he added hastily.
On the landing, Sydney opened the double doors of the drawing room, which was indeed considerably warmer than the reception room below.
A fire blazed welcomingly in the grate. Solomon was glad to take the chair next to it when offered.
“Want some tea?” Sydney asked, hovering. “Something stronger?” He made a half movement toward the decanter on the cabinet near the fireplace.
“Not for me, thank you.”
If Sydney was disappointed not to have the excuse of brandy well before eleven o’clock in the morning, he didn’t show it.
Instead, he sat in the chair opposite Solomon’s and asked amiably, “How does one come to the career of a private agent of inquiry?”
“I imagine former policemen are very good at it.”
Sydney’s lip curled. “Yes, butyouwere never a policeman, were you?”
“No. I rather fell into it by degrees after some property was stolen from me. It became something of—er…a hobby before I had the notion of making it a business interest.”
“Not many men marry their employees,” Sydney drawled.
“You might be surprised there. But Mrs. Silver is not my employee. She is my partner.” Solomon fished Juliet Silver’s list of collectors from his pocket, unfolded it, and leaned forward to pass it to Sydney. “Might I ask you if you know any of the names written here?”
Looking faintly amused once more—whether at Solomon’s partnership or the list before him was not clear—Sydney cast a quick glance at it. “Can’t say I do. Who are they?”
“Collectors of antiquities.”
“I see.” He read the names again more thoroughly and began to look more thoughtful. “You know, this fellow sounds familiar for some reason. Arthur Fenwick… Fenwick…”
The drawing room doors opened again and Mrs. Lloyd swept in with her elder daughter, saying briskly, “I am not saying that, my dear, merely that Mr. Devine will be treated with the same respect as any other visitor to our house and not left to find—Oh.” She broke off, actually halting in her tracks as Solomon rose and bowed. “Mr. Grey. Good morning. I was not told you were here.”
“Garrick told me instead of disturbing you,” Sydney said easily. “Come and look at these names, Mama. Don’t we know an Arthur Fenwick?”
“I don’t believe so. Who is he?”
“I believe he collects antiquities,” Solomon said, giving his seat next to the fire to Mrs. Lloyd, who was now reading his list, with Jemimah peering over her shoulder.
