‘The what?’ said Anna.
‘The Aurora,’ Devlin said. ‘That’s the name of the goldmine.’
‘Oh,’ she said. She was clearly confused; feeling pity for her, Devlin explained it all again, more slowly. This time she understood. ‘So the fortune was Emery’s, all along?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Devlin, cautiously.
‘And he meant to give exactly half of it to me!’
‘This document certainly seems to imply that Mr. Staines meant to give you two thousand pounds—and that Mr. Wells, as of the night of the eleventh of October, knew about this intention, and possibly even endorsed it. But as I have already told you, the document is not valid: Mr. Staines never signed.’
‘What if he did sign it?’
‘Until Mr. Staines is found,’ Devlin said, ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done.’ He watched her for a moment, and then said, ‘It has taken me a very long time to bring this document to your attention, Miss Wetherell, and for that I ask your forgiveness. The reason is simply that I have been waiting for a chance to speak with you alone; as you know, those chances have been very hard to come by.’
‘Who knows about this?’ she said suddenly. ‘Besides you and me.’
Devlin hesitated. ‘Governor Shepard,’ he said, deciding to tell the truth, but not the whole truth. ‘I spoke with him about the matter perhaps a month ago.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He imagined that it must have been a joke of some kind.’
‘A joke?’ She looked crestfallen. ‘What kind of a joke?’
Devlin reached forward to take her hand, crushing her fingers slightly in his sympathy. ‘Don’t be disappointed, my dear. It is the poor in spirit who are blessed, and every one of us awaits a much greater inheritance than any that can be gifted in gold.’
There came a shrill piping from the kitchen, and a hiss as the hot water spouted onto the cast-iron plate.
‘There’s our kettle,’ said Devlin, smiling at her.
‘Reverend,’ Anna said, withdrawing her hand from his grip, ‘would you mind very much if I asked you to pour out the tea? I’m feeling a little strange, and I would like some time alone.’
‘Certainly,’ said Cowell Devlin with courtesy, and he left the room.
As soon as he was gone Anna rose and crossed the parlour in two quick steps, the charred deed of gift still in her hand. Her heart was beating fast. She stood unmoving for a moment, gathering confidence, and then, in one fluid motion, she went to the widow’s writing desk, laid the deed of gift upon the table, uncorked a pot of ink, picked up Mrs. Wells’s pen, wet the nib in the inkwell, leaned forward, and wrote:
Emery Staines
Anna had never seen Emery Staines’s signature before, but she knew without a doubt that she had replicated the form of it exactly. The letters of Staines’s last name followed a careless diminution, and the letters of his first were cheerfully illegible; the signature was confidently sloppy, and underlined with a casual relish, as if to say that the shape had been formed so many times before as not to be disproved by any minor variation. There was a doubled curlicue preceding the E—a personal touch—and the S had a slightly flattened quality.
‘What have you done?’
Devlin was standing in the doorway with the tea tray in his hands and an expression of fearsome admonition on his face. He set the tray upon the sideboard with a clatter and advanced upon her, holding out his hand. Mutely, Anna passed the document to him, and he snatched it up. For a moment, his outrage was such that he could not speak; then he controlled himself, and said, very quietly,
‘This is an act of fraud.’
‘Maybe,’ said Anna.
‘What?’ Devlin shouted, suddenly furious. He rounded on her. ‘What did you say?’
He had expected her to cower, but she did not. ‘That’s his signature,’ she said. ‘The deed is good.’
‘That is not his signature,’ Devlin said.
‘It is,’ said Anna.
‘That is a forgery,’ Devlin snapped. ‘You have just committed forgery.’
‘Maybe I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Anna.
‘Your insolence is unbecoming,’ Devlin said. ‘Will you add the crime of perjury to the crime of fraud?’
‘Maybe I don’t know anything about fraud.’
‘The truth will bear out,’ said Devlin. ‘There are analysts, Miss Wetherell, who can tell a forgery at sight.’
‘Not this one,’ Anna said.
‘Do not delude yourself,’ Devlin said. ‘Shame on you.’
But Anna was feeling quite without delusion, and quite without shame; she was feeling, in fact, sharper than she had felt in many months. Now that Emery Staines’s signature was upon the deed of gift, it was no longer invalid. By the authority of this document, two thousand pounds must be given, as a present, to Miss Anna Wetherell, by Mr. Emery Staines; the deed had been signed, and witnessed, and the signature of the donor was a good one. Who could fault her word, when one of the signatories had vanished, and the other was dead?
‘Can I look at it again?’ she said, and Devlin, red-faced with anger, handed the deed back to her. Once it was in her hand, Anna darted away, loosed the bodice of Agathe Gascoigne’s dress, and slipped the paper between the buttons, so that it lay against her skin. Placing her hands over her bodice, she stood a moment, panting, her eyes searching Devlin’s—who had not moved. There was ten feet of space between them.
‘For shame,’ Devlin said quietly. ‘Explain yourself.’
‘I want a second opinion, that’s all.’
‘You have just falsified that deed, Miss Wetherell.’
‘That can’t be proved.’
‘By my oath, it can.’
‘What’s to stop me swearing an oath against you?’
‘That would be a falsehood,’ Devlin said. ‘And it would be a very grave falsehood, if you swore to it in court, which you would certainly be forced to do. Don’t be foolish.’
‘I’ll get a second opinion,’ she said again. ‘I’ll go to the Courthouse and ask.’
‘Miss Wetherell,’ Devlin said. ‘Calm yourself. Think. It would be the word of a minister against the word of a whore.’
‘I’m not whoring any more.’
‘A former whore,’ said Devlin. ‘Forgive me.’
He took a step towards her, and Anna retreated. Her hand was still pressed flat over her breast.
‘If you come one step closer,’ she said, ‘I’ll scream, and I’ll rip my bodice open, and say you did it. They’ll hear me from the street. They’ll rush in.’
Devlin had never before been threatened in this way. ‘I will come no closer,’ he said, with dignity. ‘I will retreat, in fact, and at once.’ He returned to the chair he had formerly occupied, and sat down. ‘I do not wish to brawl with you,’ he said, speaking quietly now. ‘I do wish to ask you several questions, however.’
‘Go on,’ said Anna, still breathing hard. ‘Ask.’
Devlin decided upon a direct approach. ‘Did you know that the gowns you purchased salvage last winter had once belonged to Lydia Wells?’
Anna gaped at him.
‘Kindly answer the question,’ Devlin said. ‘I am referring to the five gowns which Mrs. Wells used to blackmail Mr. Alistair Lauderback, with Francis Carver’s help.’
‘What?’ she said.
‘The gowns,’ Devlin went on, ‘which each contained a small fortune in pure ore, stitched into the lining, around the bodice, and around the hem. One of these dresses was made of orange silk; the other four were muslin, and coloured cream, grey, pale blue, and striped pink. These four are currently stowed in a box beneath the stairs at the Gridiron Hotel; the orange gown is in the possession of Mr. Aubert Gascoigne, at his private residence.’
He had her full attention now. ‘How do you know this?’ she whispered.
‘I have made it my business to find out a good deal about you,’ said Devlin. ‘Now answer the question.’