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The sergeant stood at the opposite end of the tea table since Mr. Clerk had yet to offer him a seat. Something he was unlikely to do if he baited him.

“Why on earth would I do such a thing?” Mr. Clerk demanded.

“I’m the one who’s goin’ tae have tae foot the bill tae repair it, for ’tis doubtful that reprehensible builder will be brought tae account.

No’ when the tamperin’ is made public.” His face had flushed bright red with fury.

“And I canna even begin that process because the police need tae investigate further and Winstanley still needs tae move the collection tae another site before he can reconvene the auction. An act which is goin’ tae cost me even more money, no doubt, as I dinna expect Winstanley …

” he spoke the name witheringly “…will voluntarily cover the cost, even though ’tis his fault for packin’ the rooms wi’ too many people ! ”

What there was no doubt of was Mr. Clerk’s sense of righteous anger over the entire affair. He’d not wanted the auction in the first place. He’d not wanted it held in his brother’s—now his —home. And a great deal of headache and misfortune had befallen him because of everything that had happened.

Given all this, I couldn’t believe he had anything to do with the tampering. There was simply no real benefit to him doing such a thing, not physically, emotionally, or financially.

However, Maclean still seemed to require convincing. “And where were ye the evenin’ before the collapse occurred?”

“I was here. As I already told ye,” Mr. Clerk snapped. “I departed Picardy Place aboot four o’clock and returned home. Where I stayed until the followin’ morn when I departed for court.”

Maclean nodded, for presumably this tracked with what he’d already been told. “And ye arrived there?”

Mr. Clerk ground his teeth. “Shortly before half past seven. I’m quite certain there are a number o’ people who can vouch for that. Shall I list them?”

“That’s no’ necessary.” Maclean crossed his arms and spread his legs as if settling in for a long stay. However, I was growing tired of craning my neck to look up at him. “The house’s security. Mr. Winstanley says ye were in charge o’ it.”

“A fact he did not divulge to me .”

“?’Twas in the contract. I saw it.”

Mr. Clerk glared at Maclean as if he was a pest he wished to squash, even though Maclean probably had at least three stones greater weight than him, all of it muscle.

“My brother signed the contract, no’ me.

” Which didn’t explain why he hadn’t read it, though I didn’t expect him to answer that.

“And I hired the two footmen as Winstanley suggested. He made no further recommendations.” Mr. Clerk grasped the arms of his chair, leaning forward.

“Though I was the one who insisted on lockin’ the study.

There were too many important things kept there.

Fortunately, a great deal o’ ’em were in the safe, which the collapse could no’ have damaged. ”

“Important things such as?” Gage pressed.

Mr. Clerk’s enraged stare swung toward him. “Documents mostly. My brother’s… memoirs ,” he sneered. “I might o’ moved them here, but I hadna decided what tae keep and what tae discard.”

Gage and I shared a speaking look.

“The memoirs,” he said. “May we read them?”

A muscle twitched in Mr. Clerk’s jaw. “You may not.”

“But they might tell us who would commit such an atrocious act,” I argued.

“They won’t.” His voice was clipped and decisive. “They’re mostly my brother’s ramblings aboot his ain consequence and that benighted collection o’ his.”

“Still.”

“Nay.” He seemed immovable on this, but then his gaze flickered as he continued to meet my pleading one, and he heaved an aggrieved sigh.

“But I’ll take another look at them myself.

If I can get tae them,” he growled in Maclean’s direction, as if the study’s compromised structure was his fault. “And I’ll let ye ken what I find.”

It wasn’t the answer I wanted. Would Mr. Clerk even know what to look for?

Would he grasp its significance? Sometimes the smallest, most seemingly inconsequential piece of information could prove to be the linchpin to uncover the culprit.

However, his offer seemed the best I could hope for, so I had no choice but to accept it with grace.

“We also understand there’s some disagreement over the Adam brothers’ architectural drawings,” Gage broached.

“Because they werena John’s tae dispose of,” Mr. Clerk sniped, weariness beginning to overtake his temper. “When Mother bequeathed them tae him, ’twas wi’ the stipulation that they’d remain in the family until such time as there was no one else to pass them tae.”

“Yet he listed them as part of his collection to be auctioned in his will?”

“Aye.” Mr. Clerk rubbed his forehead. “We’ve been searchin’ for some sort o’ documentary evidence from Mother to prove this, but so far we’ve had no luck.”

“Could it be possible one of your siblings…?” Gage began, but Mr. Clerk cut him off.

“Risked the lives o’ hundreds o’ people in some misguided attempt tae what?

” He waved his hand again, as I was beginning to learn was his habit when he was searching for what to say.

“Halt the auction? Give us more time tae find proof o’ Mother’s wishes?

” He shook his head. “Nay. No one in my family is that callous. But if that doesna convince ye, none o’ my brothers or sisters are even in Edinburgh.

They’ve no’ been here in several months. ”

Which didn’t preclude the possibility they’d hired someone to do the sabotage for them, but I still thought it improbable. Not without Mr. Clerk being involved. And the longer we spoke to him, the more certain I became that he wasn’t. So I tried a different tack.

“Who do you think did it?” I asked, curious what he’d say.

His mouth compressed into a thin line. “I’d like tae say that vile auctioneer.

” He heaved a sigh. “But I dinna think he did it. It simply doesna make sense that he’d risk his reputation like that.

Beyond that, I honestly dinna ken.” He turned his head toward the window overlooking London Street, where outside a carriage could be heard passing by.

“John could sometimes rub others the wrong way.” He scoffed at himself.

“I dinna ken why I’m mincin’ words. He often did.

He was argumentative and fractious and contradictory.

Father intended him for the Indian Civil Service, but John insisted on somethin’ else.

Apprenticed tae a Writer to the Signet before becomin’ a member o’ the Faculty o’ Advocates himself and establishin’ his own practice at the bar.

” He snorted. “No’ that I can blame ’im.

Arguin’ cases ’twas a better fit for him than diplomacy. ”

“Did he ever mention someone from one of those past cases?” Gage queried.

“Nay. ’Twouldn’t have been John’s way.”

“What of the Bannatyne Club?” I posited.

Mr. Clerk’s face screwed up in distaste.

“Could his activities with them have some bearing on the matter?”

“I dinna see hoo,” he muttered derisively. “Unless ye think one o’ its members damaged the joist in a drunken haze.”

This was clearly meant in sarcasm, and I found myself questioning his animosity toward the group. Did his disapproval merely stem from the club’s antics, or was there a different motivation behind it?

Regardless, I could think of no further questions to put to the man and, after a glance at my husband and Maclean to see that they were also finished, began to rise to my feet. “Then we’ll take no more of your time.”

He nodded. “Send Tarvit up tae me when ye go,” he requested, speaking of his butler, I supposed. Then his voice dipped wryly as he stared pointedly at Maclean. “Unless you’ve restrained him somewhere.”

I wondered briefly if we might have gotten the manservant in trouble, but given how unpleasant he’d been, I struggled to feel much empathy for him.

What I had been able to dredge up evaporated as soon as I saw his haughty face in the corridor.

Obviously he’d been eavesdropping, though he would deny it if we dared to point it out.

Given this, there was no need to relay Mr. Clerk’s message.

He didn’t follow us to the door. I understood why when Gage and I discovered our outer garments in a heap on the floor of the entry hall. I rolled my eyes at this childish bit of retaliation, plucking my russet-shaded pelisse from the pile.

“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Maclean said. “I may’ve provoked the bumptious fellow beyond his endurance.”

What exactly this meant, I wasn’t sure, and the remorseless grin that stretched the sides of his lips—at least as much as possible given the number of punches to the jaw the sergeant had taken over the years—didn’t make matters any clearer.

Though Tarvit hadn’t appeared like he’d been physically assaulted.

“As long as you got results,” Gage replied, passing me my chapeau bonnet.

“Aye.” Maclean glanced up the stairs. “Clerk didna leave the house. Least no’ wi’ his butler’s knowledge. And scabs like him always ken who’s comin’ and goin’.”

I didn’t argue with this sentiment. Not after finding the man listening at the door to the drawing room.

“I don’t think the answer lies with Clerk or any of the members of Lord Eldin’s family,” Gage murmured as he ushered me through the door.

“Aye,” Maclean agreed somewhat begrudgingly, and I was glad to hear we were on the same page.

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