Page 81 of The Trick of the Treasure
“I look forward to it,” he said intensely, and to his secret delight, she blushed.
Chapter Seventeen
In talking toticket collectors at Folkestone Harbour, Constance and Solomon discovered no trace of anyone like Audrey Lloyd, either alone or with a man of Tybalt’s description, going forward to the Boulogne ferry.
“It doesn’t mean they’re not in France,” Solomon said discontentedly when they had returned to the carriage. “It just means no one noticed them. But I suppose before we comb France, we should first seek them out in the innumerable hotels and short-term lodging houses in the town.”
Constance thought about that. “Audrey is actually quite memorable in her own way. I suspect it’s only among her family that she merges into the background where they put her. The servants think well of her. Tybalt seems to have remained loyal to her for most of his adult life. Your hackney driver remembered her well enough. And so do you, judging by the descriptions of her you gave at the harbor.”
“Perhaps you are right. And so we shall find her more easily.”
This did not, however, prove to be the case. With Constance masquerading as Miss Lloyd’s niece, and Solomon, occasionally, as her man of business who needed to speak to her urgently, they scoured the hotels and lodging houses. Their lack of success was disheartening until, toward the end of an exhausting afternoon, Solomon called a halt and insisted on taking Constance to a hotel for the night.
Constance, whose head had indeed begun to pound again, did not argue.
“We can begin again early tomorrow morning,” she said optimistically. “Shall we be Mr. and Mrs. Smith?”
Solomon did not answer, and for a moment she thought he had missed her provocative joke, for he was staring broodingly out of the carriage window. Then he suddenly straightened in his seat and thumped on the carriage roof. The coachman slowed the hired horses to a halt.
Solomon already had the door open. “It’s Tybalt,” he said, and flew down the road the way they had just come, slowing only to pass pedestrians without jostling them.
Constance kicked down the step and followed at a more leisurely pace. Solomon had not caught up with Captain Tybalt. In fact, he was following him from a few yards’ distance, until the captain turned into a gateway right next door to the small lodging house they had just left. This one bore no sign of any purpose other than a home.
Constance, headache forgotten, hurried to catch up. Ahead of her, Solomon sped through the gate and laid a hand on Tybalt’s shoulder. Tybalt spun around, jerking into the defensive posture of a man who had experienced many dangers on the world’s docksides over the years.
Constance’s stomach heaved with fear, but Solomon, despite the poise that told her he was ready for attack, did not react. He merely stood still, gazing down at Tybalt, who dropped his hands.
She had seen this happen before. It was as though he quelled would-be opponents with the sheer force of his presence. Not that it always worked, of course, and she was somewhat surprised that it did now, considering Tybalt had already coolly stolen from his employer, killed his partner in crime, and whacked Constance over the head.
“Mr. Grey.” Tybalt sounded both surprised and bewildered. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” Solomon replied. “And Miss Lloyd.”
Tybalt’s gaze flickered to Constance, who waited now at the gate a few paces behind Solomon. “Then let us repair next door to my own lodgings. I am only visiting here.”
Tybalt even took a pace toward the gate, but Solomon did not budge, still blocking his exit.
“Let us all call on Miss Lloyd together,” he suggested.
Tybalt searched Solomon’s face, as though he could thus dig out his thoughts. “Why should you imagine Miss Lloyd is here?”
“Because you are,” Constance said. A door opened across the road. Someone else was talking in the street. “Shall we go inside before we are observed by too many gossips?”
Tybalt glanced from her to Solomon, determination and decisiveness in his hard eyes. “She is not going back to her brother’s house.”
“I see no reason why she should,” Constance said.
“Don’t lie,” Tybalt snapped. “You work for Barnabas Lloyd.”
“So do you,” Solomon pointed out.
“Not right now, I don’t. My obligation to him ended when I left his ship a week ago.”
“With his treasure,” Solomon said.
Tybalt’s eyes widened. “I did not take his damned—”
He was interrupted by the front door flying open.
