Page 86 of A Whisper and a Curse

“They threatened to tell my wife, and I’ve no doubt she would have believed them. She learned I had a mistress once and was most upset.” Joslin’s face flushed. “Abigail was not the first.” He closed his eyes briefly before meeting Hadrian’s gaze once more. “However, I have been faithful since that tragedy. God has seen fit to give me a chance to redeem myself.”

But not poor Abigail. Hadrian kept his thoughts—and judgment—to himself. He was particularly inclined to dislike men who betrayed their wives, as his father had done continually to Hadrian’s mother.

“You mentioned a grocer.” Hadrian assumed it was the same grocer Eldred had mentioned. “Where was it located?”

“Bedfordbury.” Joslin shuddered. “Terrible place.”

“And what did you do with the money when you went there?” Hadrian asked.

“The letter said to leave the money with a Mr. Timms, and that is what I did.”

“Mr. Timms didn’t question why you were giving him two hundred pounds?”

“He didn’t seem to, but I didn’t say what it was for.” Joslin’s face was bright red. “I handed him a purse with the funds and said I was there to deliver it as instructed by a letter. Timms nodded and took the purse from me. That was the end of the transaction.”

“What does Timms look like?” Hadrian wondered if Timms was another alias used by Thaddeus Vale, though Joslin had already said he wasn’t sure if he’d met Mallory.

“He’s a small man—very short—with dark hair.” Joslin made an unpleasant face. “He was most unfriendly.” He straightened, his brows drawing together with consternation. “I think you are wrong about the mediums not speaking with the spirit realm. They must. There is no other way they would know about Abigail.”

“Have you considered that the surgeon may have shared the story?” Hadrian asked.

Joslin’s features arrested. He was silent a moment. “I had not. That was years ago. How would they even find him?”

Hadrian lifted a shoulder. “I do not know how they manage their tricks, but I promise you they are not speaking to the dead.” He exhaled, eager to leave Joslin’s presence. “Thank you for telling me what happened. I can see that was difficult to share.”

“Will it help the police?”

“I think so,” Hadrian said. “However, you will likely need to provide testimony to Scotland Yard.”

Joslin shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“I think you will want to help the police, else you may look suspicious,” Hadrian said with a faint shrug. “Three of the society’s mediums have been murdered, and your blackmail gives you a motive to have killed them.”

“I did not kill anyone!” Joslin’s face burned bright red. “How dare you insinuate that!”

“I am merely informing you of the facts, Mr. Joslin. I am sure the Metropolitan Police will wish to interview you.” Hadrian stood. “Presumably, you have alibis you can provide for the times of the murders.”

“Of course I do,” Joslin spluttered.

“Good day. You can expect a visit from a detective inspector.” Hadrian left to join Tilda in the entrance hall and escorted her outside.

“I heard him shouting,” Tilda said.

“He was outraged when I suggested the blackmail gave him a motive to kill the mediums.”

Tilda’s brows shot up. “You did that?”

“He didn’t want to share his story with Scotland Yard. I said that would add suspicion to him when he already had a motive.”

“Well done.” She sounded impressed. “Did he have alibis for the murders?”

“He said he did but did not elaborate. I assume he will provide them to the police.”

“We must go to Scotland Yard to inform Teague,” Tilda said.

“Agreed,” Hadrian replied. “I’ll explain about the blackmail in the coach.”

Instead of sitting beside Tilda, he sat on the opposite seat so that he could face her. “It’s easier to converse like this,” he explained, though he probably didn’t need to.