Page 99 of A Whisper in the Shadows

“I’ll think about it,” Hadrian said with a vague smile. “We appreciate your time.” He and Tilda turned and left the shop.

“When Nevill wasn’t there, I was prepared to be disappointed,” Tilda said.

“You seemed to be for a moment,” Hadrian noted.

“I was, but we were able to obtain confirmation that this fabric came from his shop. And now we have proof to present to others—since we cannot share your vision—that Nevill was involved with at least the disposal of Eaton’s corpse.” She paused and turned to face Hadrian. “Except we can’t prove that Eaton’s body was wrapped in the fabric, just that the broadcloth came from Nevill’s shop and a piece of it was found in a night soil cart that he and Phelps paid Oldham to borrow.”

“We also have Oldham’s testimony that he burned a large piece of that fabric soaked in supposed pig’s blood.” He gave her a sardonic look. “We don’t really think the night soil cart was used to dispose of a pig, do we?”

Tilda shook her head. “Absolutely not. That ties Nevill to the disposal ofsomethingbloody. But we don’t yet have evidencethat Eaton was at Phelps’s house on Saturday night. We’re going to have to coax a confession out of Nevill.”

“We’ve done that before,” Hadrian said. “Using the information we have from my visions.”

Tilda nodded. “The meeting at the Swan and Hoop is tonight. Let’s see if we can provoke a confession from Nevill.”

“What are we going to tell Maxwell?” Hadrian asked.

They began walking once more. “We’ll tell him about our meeting with the night soil man and finding the fabric,” Tilda replied. “Since Oldham described Nevill as one of the men who borrowed the cart, we wondered if the chalk mark might indicate the fabric came from his tailoring shop.”

Hadrian grinned. “Genius. That leads us directly to Nevill’s shop, and we can inform Maxwell of what we learned from the employee.”

“Precisely.” Tilda exhaled. “It’s too bad we can’t tell Maxwell about Nevill and Phelps standing over Eaton’s dead body in Phelps’s parlor. But hopefully the ‘pig’s blood’ that the night soil man reported seeing on the fabric, and the fact that they paid him to dispose of it, will convince Maxwell that they were transporting a dead body.”

Silence reigned for several minutes as they walked. Tilda thought through ways they could provoke Nevill to confess.

“If we can provoke him to confess about Eaton, perhaps he’ll do so about Phelps too,” Hadrian said as they turned into White Alley. “Whether Nevill killed either man, or both of them, he’s been hiding things.”

“That is certainly true. Once he knows we’re aware of that, he should begin to unravel.” She shot him a look full of anticipation as the scheme crystallized in her mind. “And I know exactly how to pull the thread.”

CHAPTER 22

As soon as Maxwell arrived at White Alley from the mercantile house, Hadrian and Tilda updated him on everything they’d learned that day—minus the memories Hadrian had seen and from which he was still suffering a slight headache.

Then they reviewed the scheme Tilda had concocted for provoking Nevill’s confession at the meeting. Hadrian had helped, but Tilda had laid out the plan. He was looking forward to executing it, but was disappointed that Tilda would not be a participant, since she would not be allowed into the meeting.

Instead, Tilda would remain in the common room in the company of Mrs. Furnier and Mrs. Draper, if they came. She’d even brought some items to mend, though neither required mending, nor was she actually going to conduct a repair. By her own admission, her lack of skill at needlework was only surpassed by her complete disinterest.

Just as they were preparing to leave, Mrs. Kilgore came upstairs carrying a small basket. “These just arrived for you. They’re biscuits.”

“Who are they for?” Maxwell asked.

“All of you. There’s a note,” Mrs. Kilgore said.

Maxwell pulled a small piece of parchment from the basket and read it aloud, “Congratulations, Mr. Harwood and Mr. Beck.”

“Not for all of us then,” Tilda noted with a smirk.

Mrs. Kilgore grimaced. “Sorry, Miss Wren.”

Tilda waved her hand. “It’s fine. It appears someone is congratulating them on their new positions with the society, and that does not include me. Who delivered them?”

“A young boy,” Mrs. Kilgore said. “He came to the back door. I didn’t recognize him.”

Maxwell returned the note to the basket and withdrew a round biscuit stamped with a pineapple design. “As it happens, I’m feeling a bit peckish. Thank you, Mrs. Kilgore. We’ll be back later.”

He popped the biscuit into his mouth, and the three of them departed on their way to the Swan and Hoop.

“I wonder who sent the biscuits,” Tilda mused.