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S olomon gazed at Audrey. She sounded so certain, so dispassionate. But then, she was numb with old pain and new grief.

“Then he knew where Clarke lived all the time?” he said. “Did he know you went there to meet him?” If so, why was Lloyd not more suspicious when Clarke appeared among the crew of the Queen under a different name?

“I hadn’t thought so, but obviously he did,” Audrey said. “None of us is quite so clever as we imagine, it seems…”

Was it possible? Or was she simply projecting old anger onto the new crime? Solomon exchanged another glance with Constance. Oh yes, they both thought it possible. Lloyd, of all concerned, saw himself as above…

“So what is your next step?” Tybalt asked him, with a hint of aggression. “Are you going to the police with this? Or straight to Lloyd?”

“We need proof to go to the police. We shall go back to London, and I strongly suggest you and Miss Lloyd accompany us.”

“She is not going back to her brother’s house,” Tybalt warned.

“That is Miss Lloyd’s decision,” Constance said flatly.

If necessary, Solomon knew, she would take Audrey to her own establishment. His mind rather boggled at the idea, though in her present state, at least, Audrey was unlikely to object or even notice that many of her companions were whores and courtesans.

In the end, both Audrey and Captain Tybalt accompanied them back to London. Neither brought any luggage.

“You don’t expect her to go into Clarke’s house, do you?” Tybalt said uneasily. “She can just tell you where the treasure was hidden, and you can see if it’s still there.”

“I want to go in,” Audrey said. “I need to. The house is mine now, in any case.”

Everyone looked at her in surprise.

“There is a will,” she said without much interest. “Joshua made it before he sailed with the Queen . Accidents happen at sea, after all, and he didn’t want me left with nothing, should anything happen to him.”

“Do you know where his will is?” Tybalt asked. “Will the police have found it?”

“It is lodged with a solicitor. I know which one. It doesn’t matter, really. I can’t stay there without him.” She spoke in a detached yet certain voice, as though even in her numbing grief, in the collapse of all her hopes and happiness, some things were still written in stone.

She could sell the house and live where she pleased. With a few items from the treasure…

Audrey had a point. Whatever the legal ownership of the treasure, the moral case was dubious.

Silver and Grey’s moral duty was not attractive either.

But if Lloyd had murdered Joshua Clarke, he should pay for it—and his heir would own the treasure.

Presumably Sydney. Would the son be more generous than the father, more understanding of his family’s happiness?

Part of Solomon itched to go straight to Lloyd, now, to discover if he truly had retrieved the treasure from Clarke, and if he would admit it…

Mostly, he worried about Constance, who was not fit for all this travel.

For speed, they should have taken the train back to London, but Constance held out for the carriage to give Audrey some privacy in her grief.

Solomon and Tybalt sat opposite them, both worrying, he expected.

But at least the carriage was comfortable, the changes of horses quick and painless, even in the dark, and he was glad to see Constance sleep for a good part of the journey.

Audrey closed her eyes too, some of the time, but all too often, he noticed them open and staring.

They should not be confronting Lloyd after a sleepless night… Constance must go straight home to bed while he dealt with Clarke’s house, and with Lloyd…

But, of course, Constance had other ideas.

She woke with the noise of the London streets, which were always busy, even so early in the morning before it was light.

As she sat up straighter and fixed the angle of her cloak hood, Audrey opened her eyes too and began rummaging in a large reticule. Her fingers re-emerged clutching a key.

“What if there is still a policeman there?” Constance said.

“Then he can run and fetch his superiors,” Solomon replied.

But, in fact, although the door was locked, no policeman had been left on duty to guard it. All four of the travelers alighted from the carriage, and Solomon instructed his poor coachman to wait. The groom, with whom he had shared the driving duties, was asleep upright on the box beside him.

Audrey opened Clarke’s door with her key, as she must have done many times before. Her hand shook slightly, but not enough to slow her down.

It was dark inside, shutters and curtains all closed against any nosy members of the public.

Solomon, who had brought a lantern from the carriage, held it high to let them all see around the modest house.

Stray feathers remained scattered about, as though a bird had flapped around the hall at one point and no one had swept them out.

Ominous stains still marked the hall floor, where Solomon had discovered Clarke’s body.

And the semiconscious, helpless Constance…

His stomach rebelled with the echo of that moment, and he quickly shifted the lantern’s direction.

Audrey walked straight into the parlor, Tybalt at her heels. Constance lit a couple of candles from the lantern, which served to provide a bit more light.

“We need to move this sideboard,” Audrey said.

It was not a particularly large piece of furniture, and even full of what looked like Clarke’s mother’s best china, it was easy for Solomon and Tybalt to carry into the middle of the room.

Audrey stood staring at the floor. “How like Barnabas to miss what was right under his nose. But then, he never hid things as a child, you know. It wouldn’t have been fun for him unless everyone knew where his hiding place was and something else—preferably fear—kept them from looking.”

“Like the treasure chest,” Constance said. “On the night you came home.”

“His is not a likeable nature, is it?” Audrey said. “Once I thought all men were like that. But they aren’t.”

She knelt down on the dusty wooden floor and, using the key in her hand, pried up a loose floorboard. Tybalt took it from her, while she lifted up the one next to it. Solomon shined his lantern closer while Constance pressed in to his side. Four bundles, wrapped in oilcloth, lay in the cavities.

Without a word, Audrey reached in and, using both hands, lifted each of the bundles out, placing them on the floor beside her. Then, leaning further in, she reached beneath the still intact boards and drew out two larger, flatter parcels.

“Gold plates,” she said, lifting them one at a time. “I think that is all, but you can check if you like. Open them.”

With some awe, Constance and Tybalt knelt and unwrapped the parcels. The lantern light glinted on gold, on tarnished silver and jewels that glittered like fire. Huge, solid-gold plates, ornate candlesticks, necklaces, chains, exquisite figurines in gold, antique coins, and unset precious stones.

“Joshua would have meant to put in in bags at the last moment,” Audrey said.

“Barnabas didn’t even give him time to bring them downstairs.

If he shot Joshua in the hall, he didn’t wait to ask him first where he had put the treasure.

It wouldn’t enter his head that Joshua would have had the gumption to hide it. ”

“Why did no one hear the shot?” Solomon asked. “Why did no one respond?”

“Feathers,” Constance said suddenly. “There were feathers in the hall when I found the body. They’re still there. Mr. Clarke was shot through a pillow, or a cushion. Perhaps two. The noise would still have been heard, but it would have been muffled, less startling or concerning.”

Solomon regarded her with fascination. How did she know these things?

She met his gaze. “We had a client once who killed people for money.”

He didn’t know whether or not to believe her. She might have been warning him—yet again—of the unsavory nature of her past. Or winding him up. Worrying and yet curiously exciting that there were still parts of her he did not know and perhaps never would…

Tybalt sat back on his heels. “You really mean to give all of this to Barnabas Lloyd?”

“He employed us to find it,” Solomon said. “And according to the law, it is his.”

“Is it?” Tybalt asked. “Only because he found it and dug it up. Did we not just do the same?”

“Not entirely,” Solomon said dryly. “Miss Lloyd stole it from her brother.”

“Properly speaking, Clarke stole it. There is no proof, beyond her own grief-stricken words, that she was involved at all.”

“Except that she clearly knew exactly where to find it,” Constance pointed out. “What exactly is it you are trying to persuade us to do?”

“Let her choose a few pieces to keep,” Tybalt said. “He owes her that for years of misery. But he never needs to know.”

“I would know,” Audrey said. “It’s not the same anymore.

I won’t draw the rest of you into my theft.

Mine and Joshua’s.” She touched a ring of diamonds and sapphires, and let her fingers trail back over the coins beside it.

“We should just have gone the night he came home. If we had, Joshua would still be alive…”

“Perhaps Lloyd would always have found you,” Tybalt said. “Wherever you went.”

Audrey stood up. “Would anyone like a cup of tea?” she asked.

“Actually, I’m parched,” Constance said. “Let me help you.”

Solomon’s lips twitched, but he saw the sense of it. They needed to make plans. And Constance needed a rest.

Tybalt went out and came back with milk and fresh bread. They all sat around Clarke’s parlor table, drinking his tea and eating fresh bread and Audrey’s home-made jam from the cupboard.

Which was how Inspector Harris of Scotland Yard found them when he walked into the room shortly afterward and groaned.

“I heard you two had involved yourself in this business.” He glared at Constance. “Haven’t you had enough?”