Page 47

Mr. King frowned. “Yes, I suppose. But at the time, it was more important to see to the guests. He ushered most of them farther into this room, urging calm and patience until it was safe for them to descend the staircase.”

If this was true—and I had no reason to doubt Mr. King—then Mr. Sullivan had behaved admirably. For he’d helped prevent the panic which had proved so calamitous at Kirkcaldy when those frantic to escape had trampled some and suffocated others in the crush.

“Wouldn’t you have had to pass through this door yourself to get out?

” I asked Mr. Winstanley in confusion. It would have been the only method of exodus left to those in the back portion of the rear drawing room.

The other two doors into that chamber opened directly onto the section of the floor that had collapsed. “But you didn’t see Mr. Sullivan?”

The auctioneer reared back in affront. “I was quite disoriented. I very nearly fell into the chasm myself, and I was choking on the debris.”

Except that Mr. King, at the clerk’s table, had been closer to the collapse.

Nevertheless, I knew that people responded to traumatic events differently.

What seemed logical or even endurable to some was beyond the ability or ken for another, and very often there was no rhyme or reason to it.

I’d seen the frailest women exhibit extraordinary courage while the burliest of men had crumbled.

Based on his reaction, it was safe to assume Mr. Winstanley had not reacted valiantly, but that didn’t mean he had done anything wrong. It merely meant he was human.

Mr. Rimmer returned soon enough with the lists, and we prepared to leave. But Mr. Winstanley wasn’t satisfied.

“What are you going to do?” he demanded. “Surely you’re not going to just ignore the possibility that Mr. Sullivan committed such a crime?”

“We dinna have evidence tae prove that he did. However…” Maclean held up his hand to halt the auctioneer’s next objection.

“I am goin’ tae take him intae custody for questionin’.

And I may keep him there until this is all sorted oot.

” He turned to the other employees, his jaw hardening.

“So if any o’ ye ken where he is, or where he’s likely gone, noo would be a good time tae tell me.

For if I find oot later that ye ken and didna say anything…

” he cracked his knuckles “…I’ll arrest ye for obstruction. ”

Judging from several of their pale countenances, they believed him, but no one spoke up with information to share.

Not even Mr. Fletcher, who seemed the least intimidated.

In fact, to my nuanced eye, he appeared rather defiant.

Or maybe I merely wanted him to seem that way, for I’d developed a disliking for the fellow.

One he seemed to share if the surly glare he directed at me just before we departed was any indication.

“Do you truly mean to arrest Sullivan?” Gage asked once we were back on the street.

“Aye. ’Twill least help us ken where he is.” Maclean’s voice dipped. “And keep anyone else from gettin’ tae him.”

“You expect trouble?” Gage asked in surprise as we began to stroll west.

“Ye canna deny he’d make an excellent scapegoat.”

“Especially if he turned up dead,” I finished for him.

Maclean’s sharp gaze shifted to me. “Aye.”

The octagonal corner turrets of St. Paul’s Chapel rose before us as we crossed Broughton Street and paused next to the rod iron rail which separated the churchyard from the pavement. The large ornate windows gleamed in the late morning sun.

“What was this epiphany ye wanted to tell me aboot?” the sergeant asked.

Gage huffed a humorless laugh. “Precisely what just occurred.”

Maclean’s eyebrows ruffled in puzzlement.

“I wondered if perhaps the floor collapse had been intended as a distraction,” I explained in a low voice, conscious of those promenading past. “If the culprit even meant for the collapse to happen, but rather that creaks and rumbles and other indications of instability might evacuate the house and afford them some sort of opportunity.”

“For theft.”

“Yes.” I tipped my head back to peer up at the pierced parapets and crocketed finials adorning the chapel.

A light breeze buffeted the ribbons of my bonnet and carried with it the scent of honeysuckle and damp earth.

“Though I didn’t suspect any items were stolen from the collection.

I believed Mr. Winstanley when he said his inventory was correct.

I thought perhaps something else from the house was taken.

Or that a pickpocket of sorts had been at work amidst the alarmed crowd.

” I dropped my eyes to Maclean, who was studying me with interest. “Has anyone who was there reported anything missing?”

“Not anyone who didna fall through the floor. And presumably their lost valuables are at the police house or still waitin’ tae be found.”

“Mr. Winstanley seemed quite convinced the thief was Sullivan,” Gage said, tapping his walking stick lightly against the rail.

So deep did he seem to be in contemplation that I wasn’t certain he was even aware he was doing it.

“But I must say, Kiera’s arguments against that probability are rather difficult to surmount. ”

I couldn’t tell if he was happy about this or not. After all, he’d been very determined in his pursuit of Mr. Sullivan. Even allowing himself to be dragged on a wild-goose chase. I didn’t expect him to give him up as a suspect so easily.

“If the collapse and the theft are related, then it seems more likely that someone who was not employed by Thomas Winstanley and Sons was involved, either solely or in collusion with Sullivan or another member of the staff,” Gage continued.

“Because they would need the auction and the collapse to gain access to the objects they wished to steal.”

“What of the footmen Mr. Clerk hired?” I asked Maclean, knowing he’d been looking into them.

“They would be a neat solution, wouldna they?” he conceded, removing his hat to scratch the side of his head.

“But I’ve spoken wi’ ’em both and dinna think they’re involved.

They simply dinna have the stink o’ criminal on ’em.

” He snorted. “Plus their landlady is a fair dragon, and a nosy one tae boot. She swore the lads were in their room at the time any tamperin’ could o’ taken place, and I believed her. ”

“Speaking of landladies,” I murmured, a thought occurring to me.

“I wonder if Mr. Innes’s landlady is equally as nosy.

After all, the coin room is where the incident between him and Reverend Jamieson occurred.

And I’ve since discovered from the reverend that several of the members of the Bannatyne Club intend to continue blocking his membership even in the absence of Lord Eldin. ”

Maclean’s eyebrows arched in surprise and then lowered. “And ye think that might o’ driven him tae steal those coins?”

“I don’t know.” I nodded politely to a passing couple before continuing. “But it gives us an excuse to speak with him again. He claimed he wasn’t at the auction on the third day, but he never told us where he was.”

Maclean rubbed his chin in thought. “Do ye have time noo?”

“Yes,” Gage told him after consulting his pocket watch. “But let’s take our carriage. We’ll get there quicker.” He offered me his arm so we could resume our stroll westward, but I paused before taking it to look behind me.

There were any number of people watching us, either directly or surreptitiously out of the corner of their eyes.

After all, my husband was quite attractive, and we were relatively well known due to our exploits.

Add in the hulking presence of Maclean in his policeman’s gray coat, and we were all but guaranteed to draw attention.

However, I couldn’t halt the sensation that we were being observed by someone with particular intent—and not necessarily a pleasant one.

The simplest answer was to assume it was Bonnie Brock or one of his lackeys.

I knew he was still keeping an eye on us and our movements, and that he was keeping abreast of the inquiry, whether because of us or for his own benefit.

Likely both. It was rare that his acts of kindness didn’t also have ulterior motives.

Nevertheless, I wasn’t convinced it was the rogue or his men. But neither was I convinced it wasn’t just my imagination.

So when Gage turned to me with a query in his eyes, I forced a smile and grasped his arm firmly with my own, determined to turn my thoughts to something more productive.