Jocasta pulled out the pack from her pocket.
“You forget, I’ve been round here a time. And people who are proper and tight-mouthed in their day-to-day get chatty about all sorts of things when they look at the pictures. I know where you got that first guinea you lent to some fool and made into two. Take a card.”
Molloy reached warily into the pack, looked at the image on the card in his hand and slapped it down on the table. Jocasta spoke over her shoulder to Sam. “Remember this one, boy?”
The lad concentrated hard, then his face suddenly brightened. “Thief!” He caught the look on Molloy’s face and dropped his eyes, mumbling into Boyo’s fur, “That is, can say a few things, like pulling apart, but mostly that’s thief, thieving and that.”
Molloy watched him go red then he reached forward and slid the card suddenly back to Jocasta, following it with his thin body till his cracked face was up close to hers. She didn’t flinch.
“Ha! A pretty trick, lady! Say what you like. Old stories and I know how to keep quiet.”
Jocasta looked into his eyes, all reddened with the smoke, his blue irises swimming about in them like devils in hell. “Me too, Molloy.”
He pulled away from her again, took the pipe from his mouth and blew a smoke ring into the dusty air, watching her cautiously. “I suppose I can hear you out. What’s the matter of it then, Mrs. Bligh?”
She spoke low. “I need to get in somewhere quick and quiet, then out. And I don’t want to leave any sign of my coming or going.”
Molloy considered the ceiling for a while.
“You after something of your own, or something of theirs?”
“Something that belongs to another, I reckon. And I reckon they should have it back.”
His eyes narrowed. “That smacks of philanthropy to me.”
“It’s known you’ve done a favor before where there was no need.”
“I don’t like that put about. Doesn’t do any good for a man in my business to get a reputation for charity.” He spat on the floor, thick and yellow it came from him, and sank into the wood. “When?”
“Tonight.”
“You’ll never learn the trick of it in a day,” he said angrily, “even if I were willing to share. Locks are like your fancy cards. They take learning and a little love.”
Jocasta remained still. “It needs doing, Molloy.”
Behind them, a man rolled up to the bar and set down a coin. The barmaid gave him a measure of gin without a word, and without a word back he drank it and turned to go. Molloy didn’t move, but Jocasta could see the blue devils swimming the way the man went out of the room.
“Give me the hour and place and I’ll open up,” he grunted. “Then I’m gone. You see trouble, it’s all yours. Coin, and you share-and don’t think I won’t find out if you don’t. Good enough for you?” He put the pipe back into his mouth.
“Good enough. Nine o’clock,” Jocasta replied evenly. “Top of Salisbury Street.”
She stood and walked out of the room, feeling him watching her all the way.
5
Knowing that Harriet and Crowther were to attend the second performance of Julius Rex that night, Mrs. Service had arranged for dinner to be brought forward, and so the company sat down at the rather country hour of four o’clock. The interim had been consumed with an intense debate between Harriet and Crowther as to the wisdom of going immediately to see Mr. Tompkins’s acquaintance, Gladys, with only Mr. Bywater’s picture in their hands, or whether they should wait till Mr. Crumley’s artistry had provided them with a full set of the leading figures at the opera house. Harriet wished to go at once. Crowther urged caution and was in the end successful, if only because the time had become impossibly short. Susan they had delivered back into the bosom of the household as soon as the carriage had drawn up. Beyond hearing Graves’s general greeting as he returned from the shop and various footsteps throughout their discussion, the rest of the household did not enter the library.
“Fitzraven must have been attempting to blackmail Bywater,” Harriet stated with great determination. “He went to visit Leacroft as soon as he saw the parts for the duet. He wished any romance between Bywater and Isabella to end, and no doubt thought he could put some of Bywater’s wages in his pocket too. He would never have been able to resist. No doubt he told Bywater what he knew and arranged for him to visit and discuss terms on Thursday afternoon, then they fought.”
Crowther leaned against the library desk, watching her stride back and forth in front of the fire like a general.
“But what of the French, Mrs. Westerman? What of the spies and Mr. Palmer?”
Harriet threw up her hands. “Whatever else they are guilty of, perhaps they are innocent of this. Mr. Palmer himself thought it odd that Fitzraven was killed.”
Harriet was surprised to find a certain uneasiness in the air when they sat down at table. Graves remained polite, but was distinctly reserved. Rachel looked serious and quiet, and Susan looked rather unhappy and confused. When Graves begged for a moment of her time before she went to dress for the evening therefore, Harriet followed him into the library with a feeling of distinct dread.
Graves stood in front of the fireplace and put his hands behind his back, rocking forward off his heels. He looked steadfastly at the floor in front of him. Harriet began to attempt some light remark but was cut off.
“Really, Mrs. Westerman, I must ask you what you are about.”
Harriet took in a breath, but Graves continued at once.
“Lady Susan is eleven years old, yet you bundled her out of this house and took her to an asylum. Took her to visit a madman of whose temperament you knew little, and that little only by report. Took her to a place, a situation, that sounds unpleasant at best and involved her-intimately involved her-in the investigation of a murder. All this without a word to her guardian or friends. I must ask you again, what are you about, madam?” Now he looked up. His face was flushed and he repeated slowly with bell-like clarity: “She is eleven years old.”
Harriet said in a rush, with a smiling placatory tone, “Graves! You were not to be found, and I believe Susan enjoyed the visit. She got along with Leacroft quite famously, you know.” She found as she finished that her pulse was running rather fast.
“Indeed, Mrs. Westerman. Such is the nature of Susan’s open, good heart I find my ward has promised to watch over this gentleman’s interests. Lady Susan will be noticed as a regular visitor to this dreadful place, thanks to you. And I returned from the lawyers to the shop within an hour of your departure. You knew perfectly well if you had only a little patience, you would find me there during the day.”
“But Mr. Leacroft, it seems, is a family friend. You are possibly acquainted with him yourself!”
“So Susan informs me. But you did not know that, Mrs. Westerman, did you? The man could have been raving! Even if Trevelyan had told you he was not dangerous, can you tell me you had assurances from him, or from anyone, that he was suitable company for an eleven-year-old girl?”
“I did not think-”
“That much is clear, madam. You must think more about the consequences of your actions. You trust again and again to luck and your own forward momentum. At some point you will seriously harm those near to you, who can do nothing to defend themselves against the damage you bring.”
Harriet had been listening angrily, feeling her face growing hot, but at this last a vicious little bud blossomed in her mind and she said with a quick shake of her head, “My sister has made you her confidante, I see, in the matter of her concerns as to my behavior.”
Graves looked a little disgusted. Harriet could tell he was clasping his hands together hard behind his back. She felt her own nails beginning to dig into her palms.
“She has done no such thing. But if she has made mention to you of such concerns already, I wish to God, madam, you had listened to her! Miss Trench is a model of good behavior without ever losing her naturalness. And she is possessed of remarkable good sense.”