Page 76 of Rogue of the Greenwood
Robert was amazed. “You witnessed the murder?”
The young man nodded, clearly still affected by what he had seen. “I did, sir. This lawyer fellow, he’s there talking with the other. The man calls him Dent, so I know that’s who he is. Well, he’s laughing about shamming the magistrate over a payment he’s going to say got stolen from him, then all of a sudden, the other fellow pulls out a pistol. Bam! Just like that,Dent’s murdered and the other fellow takes his comrades and goes.”
“That other fellow—would you recognize him again?” Robert asked.
Mr. Grover was most definite in his reply. “Of course I would! It’s the same man that threw my family out of our house. The ruddy Sheriff of Nottingham!”
John was grinning and slapped Robert on the back. “It’s a gift from above! Reeve himself did the murder, Rob. We’ve got him.”
Robert had to pause for a moment to let it all sink in. He’d been so sure all was lost, that Gisborn had a near perfect scheme. Finally, he allowed himself to breathe. His smile wasn’t quite as broad as John’s, but it was there.
“Very well, men. Here’s what we’re going to do.”
Marianne returned to the dining table and did not have to work very hard to appear confused to find half a dozen of Reeve’s brutish men cluttering the room. The shocked looks on everyone’s face—everyone other than Gisborn and Reeve—were easy to mirror. From Uncle Prinley’s frustration and confusion, she was quite sure this was a surprise to him, too. He had no part in the murder—and no realization that his might be next.
He sputtered when he spoke. “What’s this about, Gisborn? I expected a payment and now you tell me it’s gone?”
“I’m sorry, St. John. That was everything I could manage for now. You’ll have to find the thieves whostole it or wait until I can make another.”
Now Uncle Prinley turned on Mr. Reeve. “Where were you? Gisborn said you and your men would personally attend my man to see that the money was delivered safely.”
Mr. Reeve simply shrugged. “We were off searching for Robin Hood, of course. You heard that he tried to murder us in the churchyard today.”
“I know you say that this happened… but I’m finding it more and more difficult to believe anything. Where is my money, Gisborn?”
“Stolen, of course. I’m truly heartsick over it.”
“I’ll bet you are. You own me a payment, Gisborn!” Uncle Prinley insisted.
Mr. Gisborn flicked a crumb off the table. “I simply haven’t got it.”
“But I… I’ll call in the loan tomorrow, I will! What sort of game are you playing?”
“You can’t call in that loan. We have a contract—it’s legally binding.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Uncle Prinley growled. “I demand proof that you were authorized to take a loan on Greenwood in the first place!”
Mr. Gisborn sat up, insulted. “I’m the legal representative of my employer’s estate. I control Greenwood.”
“Your authority is merely to act according to your employer’s wishes. I was willing to overlook that gray area once we heard Locksley had died, but I’m beginning to wonder if I made a mistake. I need proof, Gisborn, that our agreement still holds.”
“Of course it still holds. Who’s to dispute it? Locksley is dead.”
Uncle Prinley reached into his coat and pulled outa paper. Marianne peered closer and realized what it was.Emma’s letter!How did Uncle Prinley get it? She tried to recall what she did with it… she read it in that little room, but then she was distracted by Mr. Gisborn and Mr. Dent.
In her haste, what had she done with the letter? Yes, she recalled… she put it in her pocket. But she was still wearing that silly costume and all the layers over it. She couldn’t recall finding the letter when she made it up to her room to change. Indeed, she’d forgotten all about it by then. She’d become so upset over what she’d heard the men discussing that she could only think about that. Perhaps the letter had fallen out somewhere and Uncle Prinley had found it. Whatever happened to it, obviously he had it now. And clearly he had read it!
“I happen to know that Locksley isnotdead,” Uncle Prinley announced loudly. “This letter to proves it! One of my servants found it on the floor and returned it to me.”
“What letter is that?” Gisborn spat.
“It’s addressed to my niece, from a friend of hers whose father is in some sort of diplomatic service, in Paris. It plainly states that Robert Locksley isnotdead, but that he will be returning to Nottingham any day!”
But Gisborn just laughed at him. “So you discovered he did not die in the war, did you? Well, I’ve known that all along! But I can assure you, dear magistrate, the manwon’tbe coming back to Nottingham. He is dead now; very dead. I had some friends take care of that for me the minute he got off a ship.”
The ladies gasped. Uncle Prinley stammered.
“You… I don’t believe it. You had him murdered? Why… because he would have put an end to your schemes? Oh, what a fool I’ve been! You never had the authority to take that mortgage, did you? You convinced me to give you my money as an investment, to build up that factory. The land was cheap you said—do you even have title to it? No, of course you don’t! That is still Locksley’s land, no doubt. Damnation, Gisborn, but you have bankrupted me!”
