Page 38 of The Trick of the Treasure
“Youare Mr. Fenwick?” Solomon asked.
He clearly was, although he seemed reluctant to admit it in so many words. “And what is your business with Mr. Fenwick? Can’t let just anyone in, you know. Even a lady as beautiful as you, madam.”
“We come on behalf of Mr. Barnabas Lloyd,” Solomon said. “His son, Sydney, gave us your name as a collector of art and antiquities.”
“Did he now? Well, I’m Fenwick, and whatever I know about such subjects, I know nothing about any Lloyds.” He slammed the door firmly behind him. “Except the insurance people. What are you looking for?”
“Information,” Constance said.
“I don’t deal in that,” Fenwick said, almost regretfully. “And since I don’t know your principles, I can’t see that we have any business together. Good day!” He lifted his hat politely enough, but then strode straight past Constance, forcing her to step aside to avoid him.
“Well,” she said, gazing after him, “he’s the most suspicious character we’ve encountered. Do you believe him that he doesn’t know the Lloyds?”
“I think he’s the sort of man who denies everything as a matter of course. I’m more interested in how Sydney knows him.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t. Perhaps he was just throwing you off his own or someone else’s scent. Either way, it’s suspicious.”
Solomon tended to agree.
“Back to the Lloyds’ house?” Constance suggested, turning once more toward the carriage.
But Solomon’s impatience had reached its limits. “No. The afternoon wears on.” He handed her inside. “Go home and enjoy an hour or two of peace. I think you deserve it.”
“Then so do you.”
“I’m too restless. I’ll make a quick call on the locksmith and Lloyd’s solicitor on my way home, and call for you as agreed to attend the opera.” He kissed the hand he still held, then stepped back and closed the door on her puzzled face. He didn’t want to see the hurt there, so he turned away quickly to give the coachman his order and strode off down the street.
*
Solomon had manycontacts at the London docks, and it did not take him long to locate Lloyd’s ship,Queen of the Sea. In contrast with the hive of activity on other ships, theQueenlooked lifeless. Its gangway was pulled up and it rocked lethargically, too high in the water to have much weight aboard.
Solomon cupped his hands around his mouth to funnel his voice and shouted. “Ahoy!Queen of the Sea!”
After a few such attempts, an old watchman tottered out from below and came to the rail to speak to him. From his gait and his weathered face, he had been a seaman all his life.
“Crew’s all paid off and gone home,” the old man told him.
“Apart from you?”
“No, sir, I don’t go to sea no more. Just paid to mind it till it goes into dry dock.”
“Do you know the crew, then? The owner? Mr. Lloyd?”
“Know the captain. And one or two of the boys been around for years.”
“Did you know any Africans on the crew?”
The old man scratched his head. “Don’tknowhim, but I saw one bloke might have been African.” The deep blue eyes scanned Solomon’s face. “But then, so might you.”
“What was his name?”
“We wasn’t introduced. What do you want him for?”
“Nothing bad. He’s a friend. I think.”
The old man shrugged. “The others called him Johnny.”
Solomon’s heart twinged with disappointment. “Do you know where Johnny is now?”
