Page 2

“No,” Lloyd replied. “All its walls are internal. There is no damage to the room at all, and nothing else in there was taken. Nor had the door lock been forced.”

“A mystery indeed,” Constance murmured, intrigued in spite of her original doubts. “Is there any way someone in your household could have made a copy of your key? Even years ago? What happens to it, for example, when you go off adventuring?”

“It stays locked in the drawer by my bedside,” he admitted. “But I cannot imagine any of my servants would do such a thing.”

“Sadly,” Solomon said, “if your house was not broken into, the members of your household are the likeliest suspects. Perhaps we could speak to them?”

Lloyd’s eyes flickered uneasily. “My wife will not like the servants to be further upset. The police have already interrogated them.”

“Were you present for those interviews?” Constance asked.

“My wife, my son, or myself were always present.”

“Then you and they could probably tell us most of what was said, leaving our own questions to a minimum.”

Lloyd still looked doubtful, but Solomon distracted him by asking casually, “Was this treasure insured?”

“No,” Lloyd said bleakly. “Not yet. Neither my shipping nor home insurance would cover this loss.”

“What did you plan to do with the treasure?” Constance asked.

Lloyd shrugged. “Various things. I meant to keep a few pieces for my own collection, donate some to the British Museum, perhaps, and sell the rest at auction.”

Which would seem to discount any insurance fraud as the motive. Besides, involving private investigators as well as the police was not the act of a man who did not want his treasure found. Her gaze met Solomon’s briefly.

In response to the answer she read there, she opened her desk drawer and took from it a sheet of printed paper on which Silver and Grey’s charges were listed.

“If you still wish to go ahead,” she said, “we require part payment to secure our services and the rest upon completion as agreed by both parties.”

*

As he showed Mr. Lloyd to the door, Solomon was not entirely surprised when his new client said confidentially, “Man to man, old fellow, the lady is calling herself your partner. Some people won’t like that, for any number of reasons.”

“But the lady is my partner,” Solomon said gently. “In the firm and in personal matters, since we are engaged to be married. One has to be strictly honest and transparent in business, I’m sure you will agree.”

Lloyd blinked, accepting his hat from Solomon in a slightly flustered kind of way. “I daresay you know your own business best. Until this afternoon, Mr. Grey.”

“Mr. Lloyd.” Solomon bowed and closed the door behind him.

He hesitated minutely before he turned and walked back to Constance’s office.

He had looked forward to greeting her this morning with a kiss that he hoped would remove any lingering doubts about marrying him.

But their early client had been even earlier than expected, and she had been five minutes or so later than normal.

Nor had she joined him in the consultation, preferring to see the unexpected Mr. Lloyd.

Was she embarrassed? Or had she changed her mind?

She had moved to the comfortable chairs with her notebook, where she was scribbling something down and did not glance up.

“What was Mr. Mostyn’s problem?” she asked.

“Marital. He wanted us to spy on his wife, whom he suspects of infidelity.”

She stopped writing and looked up, frowning. “Oh dear. I don’t want such a case.”

“Neither do I. He began by saying it was for his wife’s protection, because she had been receiving unwanted and threatening attentions, but the truth soon came out.

I said we could not help him and suggested he actually talk to his wife.

Which, it transpires, he does very little.

He departed somewhat miffed and offended. ”

“Good,” said Constance roundly. “What do you think of Mr. Lloyd?”

“A basically conventional man,” Solomon said, sitting down beside her, “doing unconventional things.”

“Adventuring and treasure hunting?”

“While his wife stays at home keeping his house and looking after his children.”

“Maybe she’s not the adventuring kind,” Constance suggested.

“It’s possible. I look forward to meeting her. You didn’t tell Janey.”

“About what?”

“About our engagement,” he said dryly.

A faint flush stained the delicate skin of her cheeks. “Oh. Neither did you.”

“I didn’t want to assume you hadn’t changed your mind. Have you?”

She held his gaze. “No. Have you?”

“No.” He smiled at her, but her response was uncharacteristically distracted and she quickly began talking about the case.

“On the face of it, the thief must be someone who lives in the house. Which limits it to his wife, Christine, his unmarried sister Audrey, his son Sydney, and his two daughters, Jemimah and Rachel. Or one of his servants.”

“Your theory being,” he said, “that one of them copied the strong room key while he was away adventuring, waited until something really valuable was stored there, and then quietly extracted the treasure the very night he brought it back? How did they get it out of the house without being seen?”

“We don’t know that they did. It could still be there. Though I don’t see Mr. Lloyd giving us permission to search the house, including the bedchambers of his family.”

“He might let us search the servants’ quarters,” Solomon said, “but I doubt there’s much point. I can’t see a servant hanging around with his loot. Wouldn’t he or she bolt?”

“They would only be brought back by the police. Most domestic servants are so respectable that they’d have no idea how to lose themselves in London, let alone find someone to fence such a collection.

Although,” she added, sitting straighter, “if they had planned it well enough, they could already be on a ship to America or anywhere…”

“ Could they plan it so well?” Solomon argued. “They can’t have known exactly when Lloyd’s ship would dock, or when his treasure would enter the house, so booking passage on a ship would be risky.”

“And expensive on a servant’s wages. My money is on the household. I wonder what his wife is like?”

“I wonder what his strong room is like.”