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“Clever,” Sydney said admiringly. “I wondered why my best shirt had thread pulls and crumbs of dirt on it.”

“ Clever? ” his mother repeated, staring at him. “Is that all you can say when your aunt tried to take everything from us? Your aunt who took our kindness and hospitality all these years—”

“We weren’t that kind to her,” Rachel interrupted. “We showed no interest in any of her charities. We used her as an extra servant—not even a housekeeper—and never took her on any of our outings. In fact, we made her dine in her own room whenever we had guests.”

Mrs. Lloyd’s eyes flashed venom. Color swept up her neck and into her face.

“What rot,” Lloyd said. “You are a mere child. You understand nothing of relationships and economies—”

“The child understands more than you,” Tybalt interrupted.

“You spent your sister’s inheritance and dowry so that she had no choice but to live here and feed your distorted view of yourself as benevolent brother.

While you alternately made use of her and humiliated her, refusing to let her marry in case people remembered that she had once had a dowry. ”

Lloyd curled his lip. “I wondered how long it would take you to cast that up. Of course I would not allow my sister to marry a disgraced seaman—”

“An honorable sea captain,” Audrey interrupted. “He was cleared of fault in the inquiry into his shipwreck, but the world chose to forget that—prompted by you, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” Lloyd said viciously. “And believe me, he will get no further commissions from me.”

“I would not accept any,” Tybalt said at once. “But you owe a few people some wages, so you had better start dividing up that treasure.”

“Good point,” Sydney said with a grin. He held out his palms. “Hand over the loot, Papa.”

“A moment,” Inspector Harris interrupted, and everyone blinked at him as though they had forgotten his existence. “The treasure is evidence, supplying a possible motive for the murder of Mr. Joshua Clarke, also known as Samuels on board your vessel.”

Lloyd scowled. “Be sensible, man. Whoever murdered him for the treasure must have known it was there. No one of my family knew—except my treacherous sister, apparently. If we had known, why would we have employed Mr. Grey to find it for us?”

“Then you are casting the blame onto your gentle sister?” Tybalt said in disbelief.

“Of course not,” Lloyd said irritably, although Solomon thought that was exactly what he was doing. “I am professing my own innocence and that of the rest of my family. I didn’t like Clarke—everyone knows why—but a thief will have enemies of his own criminal class.”

“Like you, Barnabas?” Audrey said.

“Don’t be silly, Aunt Aud,” Sydney said. “My father isn’t perfect, but he’s never stolen anything in his life.”

“Don’t be na?ve, Sydney,” Audrey retorted.

“He stole the livelihood of the Clarkes, his own loyal tenants. He stole the reputation of Captain Tybalt. He took my money—and your mother’s—and never repaid a penny he’d promised from any of his so-called successful expeditions.

You may inherit whatever he has left, but I doubt either Jemimah or Rachel is provided for. ”

“Aunt Aud, you can’t—truly you can’t—hurl accusations of thievery at him when you just stole the entire treasure that would save our family!”

Audrey laughed, a surprisingly pleasant sound of genuine amusement, though there might have been pain behind it. “Would it? Or would it have paid a few of the most clamoring debts and financed the next pointless expedition?”

Sydney gazed at her, speechless.

It was his mother who said angrily, “And that is meant to excuse your theft, Audrey? Sydney is right—you stole from all of us! Just to run away with a poor carpenter? At your age? You were always a fool. Now you will be a laughingstock if this ever gets out.”

Jemimah had stepped back from her aunt, her eyes confused and unhappy, but Rachel stayed where she was.

“You’re all telling her what she was going to do with the treasure,” she said. “ You tell us, Aunt.”

“Travel abroad,” Audrey said sadly. “Find somewhere quiet and beautiful to settle down and be happy where your father would never look for us… We would never have needed all that.” She waved one oddly disparaging hand at the bags full of treasure.

“I was going to invest about three-quarters of it for you”—she lifted her gaze to her sister-in-law’s—“for you and the children, Christine. This time, so hemmed in with legalities and secrecy that Barnabas would not have been able to touch it.”

Some sort of communication passed between the two women then. Solomon doubted they had ever been friends, but they had lived together for a long time and they understood each other.

Mrs. Lloyd’s eyes fell first. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

Sorry for what? Solomon’s skin, his very brain, seemed to be prickling. What was she sorry for? For misjudging Audrey? For her lack of kindness? Or for shooting Joshua Clarke to get her own hands on the treasure?

She could never have moved that sideboard alone. Had she still been looking when, early the next morning, Constance had blundered in and found Clarke’s body?

It could fit. But Constance was ahead of him.

“You told your husband,” she said to Mrs. Lloyd. “You knew about Audrey’s affair of the heart and you told your husband where Clarke lived.”