Page 56 of The Trick of the Treasure
He led her to the group of comfortable chairs by the fire, indicating she should sit on the small sofa, where, to her pleasure and disturbance, he joined her, not quite touching. She sipped her sherry—excellent, of course—and hoped her fingers were not trembling. This was ridiculous.
“But we think now the chests were switched while still aboard ship,” she said, “so I’m not sure that this helps us—justmuddies the waters even further. Unless there is a connection between either him or his father to Captain Tybalt or Samuels the ship’s carpenter.”
“I couldn’t find one in my inquiries this afternoon.”
“The other interesting thing about Ben,” she continued, “is that he has stopped calling on Jemimah Lloyd. She is afraid he was merely using her to get close to the treasure. Which could now be in his possession.”
Solomon nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should look into any other changes in his behavior. And whether or not he has plans to leave the country.”
“I gather his father is in the north, where Ben is avoiding joining him. I thought it was Jemimah that kept him in London, but perhaps it isn’t.”
“Did you get the impression that Jemimah might have been in league with him? Stolen the keys at least, if not the treasure itself?”
She shook her head. “If Jemimah did it, either alone or with Ben or Sydney or both, what is the point of the fake chest? I even wondered if Lloyd himself had ordered the fake chest because the original was falling apart, and an aged chest full of treasure looks so much more impressive for all his family and friends and intimate gentlemen’s club lectures. But I can’t see why he would not have told us.”
“We already know he is selective and often misleading in what he tells us and everyone else around him. I don’t recall ever dealing with anyone quite so…slippery.” He raised the glass and drank. “I have learned rather more about Captain Tybalt, too. I did wonder why he always seemed to be available, often at short notice, for Lloyd’s expeditions. Lloyd’s pay is hardly generous, and not enough to live on with often years between voyages. Nor are his crew the top of the trees.”
Constance set down her glass. “And?” she said eagerly.
“There was a tragedy when he sailed for onetime partners of mine. He was shipwrecked, losing several men and all his cargo. These things can happen at sea all too often, but in this case, there were accusations of drunkenness and incompetence on the part of the captain. Also, that he had swindled from previous cargoes.”
“Not quite the clean potato,” Constance murmured. “Do you think he and Samuels were in it together? Created the fake chest to give themselves time to flee the country?”
“It’s the likeliest solution I’ve come up with. It would explain Tybalt’s reluctance to give us Samuels’s real address.”
Constance caught her breath. “Samuels has already left the country with the treasure, and Tybalt will follow at leisure…”
“Possibly. On the other hand, it’s human nature, sadly, to kick a man when he’s down. Tybalt could have made mistakes in his past and paid for them with the loss of his reputation and much of his livelihood. It’s more than possible he never stole in his life. Either way, we need to speak to him again. And to Ben Devine.”
Constance nodded and picked up her glass again. “We don’t seem to be getting any closer, do we? Every minor discovery just jerks us from suspect to suspect without any real evidence against any of them. Meanwhile, the treasure could be sailing further and further away from us. Literally. This could be our first failure, Solomon.”
“Oh, we’re not defeated yet. Not by a long chalk.”
The manservant appeared. “May I serve dinner, sir?”
“You may,” Solomon replied, rising and offering his hand to Constance.
Discussing the case had settled her nerves, and as they dined, the beguiling comfort of his presence spread over her once more. No one else had ever brought her this strange combination ofexcitement and ease, where she could converse and banter and yet be so intimately aware of his physical presence.
“My compliments to the cook,” she said as Jenks cleared away their sweet course. “That was a truly delicious meal.”
Jenks bowed. “Thank you, ma’am. I shall pass your kind words to the cook. She will be gratified.”
“She probably will,” Constance said when he had departed, and they sat once more on the sofa with the remains of their wine. “You don’t notice what you eat, do you?”
“Not always,” Solomon replied. “Unless it’s bad—I notice that in the end. Usually. And I notice with you. Everything tastes better.”
She was not unmoved, but said lightly, “A compliment, Solomon? Come, come.”
He did not respond with the banter she expected. “If I don’t give them, it isn’t because I don’t feel them. I just can’t find the right words.”
On impulse, she took his hand and held it to her cheek. “That’s the best compliment of them all.” Without warning, her throat tightened and her eyes filled. “Oh Solomon,” she whispered, “how did we get to this place? How can we even be considering…”
“Love,” he said softly, gripping her fingers. “I thought we had agreed on that.”
His kiss was firm, allowing no reluctance, and yet the tenderness caused a tear to trickle out. He kissed that too.
“You don’t know,” she said brokenly. “You don’t know who I am, what I have done.”
