Page 31

Studying the figures, Montague huffed. “And it appears this Chesterton withdraws the lot in cash.”

“For the guns and the transport and storage of them, we suppose,” Penelope said.

Montague flicked through the pages. “In which bank is this account held?”

Jordan showed him where the name was scribbled. “We think that says ‘Moreton’s.’”

Montague studied the name, then looked at the account numbers and nodded. “Yes, it’s Moreton’s.” He glanced at Stokes and Barnaby. “And from the account numbers, I can tell you that, as well as Chesterton’s account, all three crediting accounts are with the same bank.”

Stokes inclined his head. “That’s what Jordan thought. We were hoping you might be able to assist us in convincing the manager at Moreton’s that, in this instance, it would be right and proper to supply us with the identities of our three mystery account holders.”

“Well, plainly, you need to identify them, and yes, of course I’ll lend my voice to your chorus.

” Montague paused, clearly thinking, and they waited to hear the outcome.

Eventually, he refocused on Stokes and Barnaby and explained, “However, Moreton’s is now the private arm of the New Union Bank, and while I haven’t had any recent dealings with New Union or Moreton’s myself, I know of someone who has, and I’m sure he’ll be delighted to add his considerable weight to mine in persuading the bank manager to divulge the details you require. ”

Barnaby grinned. “Thomas Glendower?”

Montague nodded. “He dropped in earlier to discuss another matter, so I know he’s at Drayton’s today.”

“Well, then.” Stokes slapped his palms on the chair’s arms and pushed to his feet. “Let’s get around there and rope him in.”

Barnaby ushered Penelope into the corridor, and the others followed.

In the foyer, Montague paused to pick up his hat and inform Slocum, “I’ll be out, possibly for up to an hour, Slocum.” Setting his hat on his head, Montague smiled at the investigators. “How long depends on how resistant to seeing sense the manager of Moreton’s proves to be.”

“Indeed, sir,” Slocum replied. “We’ll hold the fort here.”

The company trooped out of the office and onto the pavement, then proceeded around the corner into Threadneedle Street.

A little way along, Barnaby and Penelope, in the lead, turned in to a narrow building indistinguishable from its neighbors.

They climbed the stairs to the first floor, then made for the front of the building, where a pair of half-glazed double doors gave access to the prime suite that overlooked the street.

The name “Drayton and Company” was etched in simple gold lettering on the doors, and the wide, light-filled room beyond was crammed with staff, all busy doing this and that.

The middle-aged receptionist seated behind the counter-like desk facing the door looked up, a pleasant and welcoming smile on his face.

He recognized them, and his smile brightened. “Mrs. Adair, Mr. Adair, Mr. Montague, and Inspector Stokes, too.” He was already rising and reaching for the gate in the waist-high barrier. “Please, come through.”

“Mr. Glendower isn’t expecting us, Minns,” Montague stated. “But I suspect he’ll be glad to see us.”

“Indeed, sir.” Minns waved them through the gap. “He doesn’t have anyone with him, and I’m sure he’ll be glad of your visit.”

Penelope led the way to the unmarked door set in the paneled wall that formed one side of the office.

She paused before it, and Barnaby reached around her and, after a single rap on the panel, set the door swinging wide.

Penelope swept into the room with the words “Good morning, Thomas. We come bearing gifts—namely, an adventure and a challenge.”

From his position behind his imposingly large and neat desk, Thomas Glendower looked up, took in the people invading his private space, then set aside the pen he’d been holding and smiled charmingly.

“Excellent, my dear Penelope. Investing has been rather dull of late, and I could use a distraction.”

Thomas rose and greeted Penelope warmly, raising her hands to his lips and bussing her knuckles, then he shook the men’s hands. Barnaby introduced Jordan by name only. Jordan appeared a trifle wide-eyed as he clasped the legendary investor’s hand.

True to the expectations of Barnaby, Penelope, and Stokes, Thomas narrowed his eyes at Jordan, then said, “Ah yes. You’re Roscoe’s man.”

Jordan was surprised to have been recognized as such. Hesitantly, he asked, “Have we met previously, sir?”

Thomas smiled. “No, no. I just make it a habit to keep abreast of such things.”

Barnaby shared a smirking glance with Penelope, then they drew up chairs and sat in a half circle before the desk, while Thomas resumed his seat behind it.

“So”—Thomas leaned back and folded his hands across his waistcoat—“what is this challenge?”

Stokes ran through the details of the murder and how that had led them to the gun-running scheme and Chesterton, then Montague took over and explained what they’d discovered in Chesterton’s account book.

Barnaby concluded with “So now we need to identify the holders of those three crediting accounts.”

Thomas nodded. “That should certainly be possible. Forbes is the manager we need to see at Moreton’s. He’ll be easy enough to convince”—Thomas dipped his head toward Stokes—“especially with Scotland Yard’s finest making their presence felt.”

Stokes dryly replied, “I’ll do my best to loom large.”

Thomas and Montague laughed, then Thomas rose, and the others did, too, and he waved them to the door. “No time like the present. New Union is just around the corner in Leadenhall Street.”

They walked out of Thomas’s office, and Thomas stopped to have a word with the helpful Minns before following the others out of the main office, down the stairs, and onto the street.

On the pavement, the company reorganized, then with Montague and Thomas in the lead, set off, striding along. At the end of the short street, they turned south on Bishopsgate, then at the next intersection, walked west along Leadenhall Street.

Penelope had taken Barnaby’s arm and was walking behind Thomas and Montague. Bringing up the rear with Stokes, Jordan paced behind her.

As they made their way along Leadenhall, Jordan leaned forward and murmured to Penelope, “Even though I’ve only just met him, Glendower reminds me strongly of Roscoe.”

Penelope arched her brows. She was rather intrigued that Jordan had so quickly detected the very real similarity between the two men. Not many would have noticed the subtle signs of their birthright that, despite their long years out of society, both Roscoe and Thomas still carried.

She glanced fleetingly at Jordan, then smiling to herself, whispered back, “Your instincts are sound. There is a definite commonality and, indeed, on more than one plane.”

Jordan frowned faintly, but she offered no further explanation of her enigmatic comment, and as they were nearing the New Union Bank, there was no time for him to press her for more.

With expectation building, on Barnaby’s arm, Penelope followed Thomas and Montague through the impressively polished doors of the New Union Bank.

Inside, the recently refurbished black-and-white-tiled foyer was abuzz with people queuing to speak with the cashiers stationed behind their long counter.

Every piece of wood in sight was richly finished, and every sliver of brass was polished to a gleam.

The New Union Bank was clearly intent on projecting the image of a successful and trustworthy repository of customers’ money, and the subtle hum of commerce filled the air.

Apparently unimpressed, Montague and Thomas drew their party to one side of the foyer, close to one wall, where two large palms in brass pots gave an illusion of privacy.

In response to Penelope’s questioning look, Thomas replied, “Now we wait.”

She wondered for what, but before she asked, a dapperly dressed man came hurrying out of a discreet door at the rear of the foyer. From his pomaded hair to the starched stiffness of his collar and the excellent cut of his suit, he was plainly a higher-level employee.

The man made straight for their party—or rather, with an ingratiating smile affixed to his face, he hurried to present himself before Thomas and Montague.

On reaching them, he halted and bowed. “Mr. Glendower, sir. And Mr. Montague!” The man smiled hopefully.

“To what does Moreton’s owe the pleasure of your presence? ”

Penelope noticed that Jordan, standing beside her, was struggling to hide a too-revealing grin.

“As to that, Forbes”—Thomas waved to include the rest of them—“we are here on a legal matter.”

“I see.” Forbes’s gaze drifted over Barnaby and Penelope, but then fixed on Stokes, and his manner grew wary.

Noting the change, Thomas explained, “We need to identify three account holders.”

His tone a touch supercilious, Montague added, “It seems they’ve been involved in a quite dastardly—indeed, one might even say treasonous—crime.”

“Good heavens!” Forbes darted glances at Penelope, Barnaby, and Jordan, clearly wondering about their roles in the matter. “Well, of course,” he somewhat hesitantly said, “if it’s in my power…”

“Oh, it definitely is,” Thomas informed him.

“If it weren’t,” Montague added, “we would hardly be here, wasting our time as well as yours.”

Forbes flushed. “No, of course not. I…that is…” He glanced at the crowd in the foyer, then stepped aside and waved their group to the door through which he’d entered. “Please, come through to my office. You can show me the details, and I’ll see what I can do.”