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C onstance arrived at the office only minutes after Solomon.

“Run and fetch us all something to eat, Janey,” she said in the hall. “And then you can go about Bibby’s business. She’s at the establishment, by the way.”

“Bless you, ma’am,” Janey responded with unusual warmth, and the front door opened and closed even before Constance blew into his room like a whirlwind.

“The back door might not have been locked,” she said without greeting or introduction. “We need to speak to the servants again, and to Jemimah.”

Solomon caught her hand as she breezed past his chair and pulled her onto his lap. Before she could protest, he kissed her lips. She yielded without thought, kissing him back with enthusiasm.

“What was that for?” she asked breathlessly at last.

“We have not quite established the affectionate greetings of an engaged couple. I thought I would try this to see if you liked it.”

“You know I do.” Her color was heightened. She gave him another, quicker version, then slid off his lap. “It is not, however, suitable in public, and we are right in front of the window.”

“I’ll work on the public one,” he said. “What makes you think the back door was not locked? I presume you mean the night the treasure was taken?”

“I do.” She sat in the chair beside him. “Ben Devine watched Jemimah go safely back inside, but he did not hear the key turn in the lock, nor the bolts being shot.”

“That doesn’t mean she didn’t do either.”

“No, but it’s something to pursue. Think about it, Solomon.

She has lived all her life with servants.

She is not used to locking up at night. She’s had a daring and no doubt agreeable half-hour with Ben.

She’s elated and very probably distracted.

The chances are, she sailed through the door, closed it, and went off to bed in a romantic dream of her own. ”

Solomon’s lips twitched. “Is that what you do?”

“No,” she said crossly, “but I am not a sixteen-year-old girl in the throes of her first love.”

“Are you sure she is?”

“Well, she’s sixteen. But she probably thinks she’s in love. So does Ben.” She shifted restlessly. “Mind you, even if she did leave the door open, we’re not much further forward, are we?”

“We might be. Lloyd spent all night in his wife’s room.

He probably wouldn’t have heard anyone swiping the keys.

Also, a couple of your mother’s collectors are known to the Lloyds.

Grafton and his wife dined there both before and after Lloyd’s departure, so one of them could have borrowed the keys at some stage.

Sydney recognized Fenwick’s name, and there’s another collector called Terrance… ”

He told her what he knew of Lloyd’s quarrel with him, then said, “There’s something else I don’t like. Lloyd keeps telling us half-truths. None of the household saw inside the treasure chest.”

Constance listened, frowning to that story too. “It’s control,” she said abruptly. “Reasserting his position in the family by controlling who gets to know what or is entitled to which rewards.”

“It does seem to be habitual with him. His family seems to regard it as his teasing sense of humor.”

“And yet it can amount to cruelty,” Constance said. “It’s why he didn’t warn any of them that we were investigating for him.”

“And why he doesn’t always tell us everything there is to know. I do think he genuinely wants the treasure back, though. He isn’t just going through the motions. Apparently, he went into a real rage when he discovered the theft and went storming through the house in search of it.”

“Then he does suspect his own household…”

“It certainly crossed his mind. Oh.” He reached for his satchel and took out the battered map of the deserted island and the photographs.

“Goodness, these are remarkably clear.” Constance picked up one of the photographs.

“The photographer utilizes a new process that combines the clarity of the daguerreotype with the ability to print unlimited copies from a negative. Sydney seemed rather interested in it all. He plays the dilettante, but I’m not sure.

He told me he’d had an idea of spending his share on photography equipment and setting up a business.

Although wine and women were apparently an equally pleasing alternative. ”

“I suppose that gives him a motive for taking all the treasure rather than just his share. He could do both, then.”

“Not while his father’s holding what purse there is,” Solomon said wryly, “ and watching him like a hawk. He’d have to flee the country.”

“Well, he has the experience now. Why not live abroad? Perhaps Jemimah and Ben Devine had similar thoughts. He told me he would not propose until he could support her.”

“Not sure stealing from her father is the way to her heart,” Solomon said. “Although it might be. What did you think of Devine?”

“I’m not sure. He acts. And he can lie while looking you in the eye if it serves his purpose. So can I, of course, when it matters, so I don’t hold it against him. Yet.”

“Perhaps the three of them took it,” Solomon said thoughtfully. “Perhaps Jemimah’s assignation was really to give the treasure to Devine, so that Lloyd wouldn’t find it should he tear the house apart looking.”

“They all knew each other from childhood,” Constance allowed. “Only…”

“What?”

“Why did Ben not stay away the day we were there? Why risk drawing Lloyd’s ire? And I’d swear Sydney was surprised to see him.”

“He certainly didn’t leap up to greet him,” Solomon said. “Because they had already met since Sydney came home?”

“Or because Jemimah barely gave him the chance,” Constance said.

“Or because he knew Devine’s casual arrival would annoy his father. It’s all speculation. We have no evidence of any of it.”

Janey returned then, with some warm, thick soup and bread from the public house down the road. The three of them ate together, continuing to discuss the Lloyds’ case and Bibby’s, after which Janey, who had bolted through her meal, ran off with a list of questions for her friend.

“She won’t get herself into trouble, will she?” Solomon said with sudden unease. “Asking questions of the wrong people in the wrong places?”

“Janey can take care of herself. Her tongue alone can blister most ruffians at twenty yards. And to be honest, a trinket of no value is really not going to ruffle many feathers. What should we do next? Find out about the back door?”

“I think so,” Solomon replied. “We’ll try the servants rather than land Jemimah in the soup with her parents. And then we could call on these rogue collectors.”

Her gaze fell back to the photographs. “Who are all the other people here? Lloyd’s sailors?”

“I presume so.”

“Most of them are looking at the camera, as though it’s more fascinating than the treasure.”

On impulse, Solomon rose and fetched the magnifying glass from his desk drawer.

Although he offered it to Constance, she passed him back the photograph and he inspected the treasure more closely.

The coin at the top of the chest sharpened, as did the shape of something like a candlestick with a jeweled necklace wrapped around it.

As far as he could tell from the angle of the photograph, the chest was pretty full.

He shifted the glass upward to Lloyd’s face. Due to the length of time subjects had to remain still before the camera, most expressions tended to be a trifle wooden. Lloyd, however, looked entirely satisfied. His teeth showed in his smile, and his eyes looked bright with excitement.

Solomon moved the glass to Sydney, whose excitement might have been tempered with cynicism. Or surprise. It was difficult to tell. Gradually, he moved the glass across the other faces, those in front, and then the two at the back, lurking behind Lloyd.

And the whole world seemed to halt.

*

Constance, watching Solomon with something like wonder—as she often did when she thought he wasn’t looking—saw the instant of change.

“Solomon? What do you see?”

He set down the magnifying glass and turned away. “Excuse me. I need to wash my hands before we go out.”

He walked across the room with his usual, unconscious grace, not in any particular hurry, and yet she knew something was wrong. As she reached for the photograph, she was distracted by the postman passing the window, and went to collect the lunchtime post.

By the time she had cast aside a couple of tradesmen’s accounts and opened a letter from a lady who had lost her cat, Solomon returned to the room with his hat and coat on.

“Are you ready to go?”

She jumped up, dropping the letter into his hands. “Just the case to make our fortune. Give me a minute.”

Since they had a few calls to make, they again made use of her carriage.

Whatever had annoyed or upset Solomon, she decided to wait for him to tell her.

He did not. On the other hand, he appeared to be back to his usual self, talking about the current case—and the cat—with his usual mixture of insight and wit.

They alighted once more at the Lloyds’ house, but this time descended the area steps to the tradesmen’s entrance.

The kitchen maid Rosie answered their knock. Although her eyes widened with alarm, she let them in without fuss.

“We’re looking for Garrick,” Solomon said briskly.

“In his pantry, sir. I’ll take you.”

She led them through the kitchen, past the servants’ hall to another room near the baize door that led to the family’s part of the house. She knocked timidly and opened the door.

“Mrs. Silver and Mr. Grey to see you, Mr. Garrick,” she said in a rush, and fled.

Garrick was already on his feet. Constance thought he would have liked to sit back down again to show his contempt but didn’t quite dare.

“Yes?” he said wearily.

“You stated that you locked and bolted all the doors the night of the theft,” Solomon said without preamble. “And unlocked them at seven o’clock the following morning. Was the back door just as you left it? Or was it actually not locked?”

Garrick’s lips curled, almost into a snarl.