Page 37 of The Trick of the Treasure
“Mr. Lloyd is perfectly capable of speaking to me without intermediaries. In fact, I believe we are dining with them this week.”
“It is not a social call, sir, but a matter of business. Mr. Lloyd has engaged us to uncover the truth of his missing treasure.”
Grafton’s eyes widened in what seemed to be genuine astonishment. “Missing treasure? I thought he had brought it home—against all the odds at White’s, I might add.”
“Oh, he did. His house seems to have been burgled that very night. We were wondering if you—a fellow collector, we understand—might have come across anything like these items in sale rooms of any kind, or even heard a whisper of their availability?”
Grafton took the list from her, his eyebrows rising spectacularly. “Quite a haul. No, the only whisper I heard was that Lloyd himself would sell most of it, and that came from his wife.”
“When did she tell you that?” Solomon asked.
“Oh, last month, I think, when they dined with us.”
“I believe you and your family also dined with Mrs. Lloyd recently.”
Grafton stared. “We are old friends.”
“Yes, I know, that’s why we wanted to ask your opinion of his security measures in his house.”
“You mean the strong room? Knew he had one. Never saw it. Never told me how it worked or what made it so damned strong. I suppose it was like those in a bank or a solicitor’s office.”
“Have you seen any of the Lloyd family since the return of Mr. Lloyd and his son?”
“I have not. Keep missing Lloyd at the clubs.”
“May I ask how you knew he was home?”
“My wife told me. She had been due to meet with Mrs. Lloyd that afternoon, and Christine sent a note putting it off becausethe ship was expected and Lloyd had apparently found what he was looking for. Good for him, I said, though someone should invest it for him this time rather than letting him spend it on other damned expedition to Timbuktu or wherever.”
“Is your wife also interested in art and antiquities?” Constance asked.
“Of course,” Grafton replied frostily.
Solomon and Constance departed only a few minutes later.
“I’d say his wife knows Mrs. Lloyd well enough to have spent time in her bedchamber,” Constance said, walking up to the waiting carriage.
“Doing what?” Solomon asked, bewildered.
“Talking, trying on gowns and hairstyles—women’s things. I think we need to speak further to Mrs. Lloyd.”
“Possibly.” Solomon handed her into the carriage before following and sitting beside her as usual. Even with all the turbulence in his mind, her nearness was oddly calming. Like an anchor in a world that might be about to change forever. He shifted restively as the horses walked on. “Even if Mrs. Grafton managed to borrow and copy the strong room keys, I still don’t see how either of them could have broken into the house.”
“I admit he doesn’t seem the type to know or employ a tame burglar, but one never knows. So where do we find this Fenwick character?”
“He has rooms down toward Westminster.”
They alighted at the address provided by Juliet. Solomon had just raised his hand to the knocker when the door flew open and a man barged out with such energy that Solomon had to step back to avoid him.
“Beg your pardon,” said the man, reaching back to slam the door.
“We beg yours,” Constance said, stepping forward so that the man was temporarily dazzled. He was perhaps Solomon’sown age, or a few years older, thin featured, and with a definite sparkle in his shrewd eyes. “We wish to go inside in search of one Mr. Fenwick.”
“Do you indeed? And who might you be?”
“I am Mrs. Silver. This is Mr. Grey.”
“Never heard of you,” the man said cheerfully.
