Page 26 of The Trick of the Treasure
She waved at him to be seated once more. “We know the Graftons, though.”
“Are they frequent visitors? Old acquaintances?”
“Not so very old, only in the last few years or so. Mrs. Grafton and I are friends. She calls occasionally for tea. We dined with her family last month, and the month before they dined here.”
Jemimah nodded. “He loves Egyptology. She always looks harassed by the thought of dust on the millions of objects displayed in their drawing room. They have a daughter a couple of years older than me who always looks down her long nose at me.”
“If it’s that long, she probably can’t help it,” Sydney said helpfully, ambling toward the door. “I’ll bid you good day, Mr. Grey. I have an appointment to keep.” With a casual wave of the hand to his mother, he departed.
“I don’t believe we are acquainted with any of the others on your list,” Mrs. Lloyd said, returning the paper. “But my husband may know them.”
“I shall certainly ask when I next speak to him. I believe you are acquainted with another collector, a Mr. Terrance?”
“The vase man,” Jemimah said with a wicked grin.
“I heard about the accusation he made against Mr. Lloyd,” Solomon said. “What sort of a man is he?”
Mrs. Lloyd sighed. “Lamentably quick tempered, but there is no harm in him.”
“Then he does not bear a grudge against your husband?”
“Oh no. He and his wife came to dinner in… When was it, Jemimah?”
“August, I think,” Jemimah said, perching on the arm of her mother’s chair. “It was a very warm evening, anyway. He was charming. If you ask me, Papa provokes him deliberately. He’s quite different when Papa isn’t around.”
“Have you ever discussed with anyone in his family such matters as security? The strong room, for example.”
“Oh no!” Mrs. Lloyd looked shocked. “I doubt anyone knows we have one.”
“When they came for dinner,” Solomon pursued, “did either of them have any reason to go upstairs? To a retiring room, perhaps, or to make use of your boudoir?”
“Oh, no. You cannot suspect our friends, surely!”
“It must be someone who knows your household well,” Solomon pointed out. “Someone who knew about the strong room and the keys and the precise night the treasure arrived there. There are surely a limited number of people who could possibly have committed this crime.”
“Oh dear. Oh dear!” The poor woman sounded so distressed that Solomon began to feel guilty.
Her daughter, however, while patting her shoulder, did not seem unduly disturbed. In fact, the gleam of curiosity in her face resembled her little sister’s.
Chapter Six
Janey was right.Bibby Barton would never last on the streets. Clearly undernourished, she shivered constantly in her thin, ragged clothes and torn shoes that were too big for her. She looked and sounded as if she were just recovering from one illness, for her chest still wheezed, and was about to come down with another that might just carry her off. She was too thin and too sharp of feature to be either pretty or popular with potential customers. On top of all that, she looked utterly morose.
On the other hand, she had quite a sweet, shy smile and seemed overwhelmed that Constance had deigned to visit her dingy room.
“Janey’s told me all about you, ma’am. She said she’d ask you about the locket—I’m so grateful for your help.”
“Actually, it’s Janey who will be looking,” Constance said. “And I have to warn you, the chances of finding your locket are not high. But she will do her best. I’ve come about something else entirely…”
Half an hour later, they left the dingy room together with Bibby’s pitifully few belongings in a bundle—a comb with several broken teeth, her shabby working dress, and a battered, shapeless hat for Sundays. They caught up with Constance’s carriage at the Haymarket Theatre, and Bibby’s mouth fell open when she realized she was to ride in it.
“Cor lummy,” she muttered, clambering in. A hint of cynicism had entered her eyes. “What I got to do for this, ma’am?”
“What did Janey tell you about my establishment?”
“That she don’t whore no more. I can’t make up my mind whether you’s a reformer or a real madam. If you’re the madam that can afford this, then I don’t know what you’re doing with me. I never been anything special.”
“You are,” Constance said firmly. “As for me, I am both and neither. Our trade is as old as man or woman and nothing will shut it down. I don’t judge and I don’t blame, but I do believe in choice. My establishment is safe and our clients are wealthy and generous and know what behavior is acceptable. If you choose to entertain them, you contribute to the running of the business with a percentage of your earnings. You keep the rest. If you’d rather do something else, we can help educate and train you, either inside the establishment or out.”
