Elijah stopped just inside the doorway, the Runners behind him. The couple looked up, smiles on their faces at first. Then as all four men entered the room and approached the table, their faces pales, eyes filled with panic.
“Comte du Aveculót? I am Mr. Norton from the Bow Street Office. You and your sister are suspected of theft and duplicity, stealing jewelry and replacing replicas to avoid capture.” The woman rose, her dark hair still tucked under a mob cap. Elijah held up a hand. “I request you both remain here while your chambers are searched.”
The Runners retreated to the second floor, and the butler remained outside in the hall. When Eli turned around to close the door, a blur of blue silk whirred past him. The comte was trying to escape. As Eli gave chase, Mr. Smalley stood at the edge of the landing and put his foot out. The comte tumbled down the stairs. Eli hurried down the steps. The man was unconscious but not dead, so Elijah quickly handcuffed the man, one metal ring on the thief’s wrist and the other to a spindle of the railing.
The woman! He ran up the stairs two at a time to find Mr. Smalley now holding the door shut and a broad grin on his face. “She was trying to follow her brother if that’s who he is. I didn’t want her to accidentally fall in the same manner.”
The comte was rousing. He moaned, then demanded to speak with Eli’s superior in a thin whining voice that still sounded French. His sister yelled for him to shut his mouth from the other side of the door.
“Sir, I am willing to give testimony that I was forced to help this man. He threatened to… kill me… and my darling little boy,” the woman shouted through the heavy wood in a northern English accent.
When the Runners appeared with a large stash of jewelry, including the authentic pieces matching Eli’s sketches, the woman was also handcuffed.
“Are you related?” asked Elijah.
The woman ignored his question. “What about my poor little girl? He said she’d be sent to the workhouse if I didn’t help him. I am a victim.”
“Hmm,” said Elijah, “earlier it was your sweet son.”
“I told you we should have gone straight to the Continent. We’ve been here too long,” snarled the man. “And a wife can’t give evidence against her husband, you foul harpy.”
“Don’t blame this on me. Without your gambling, we’d have had enough to stop long ago,” hissed his spouse.
The pair were escorted from the Hatton Garden townhouse to the Brown Bear. All the stolen jewelry and more were confiscated. Because of the seriousness of the crime, they would be moved to Newgate later to await trial as soon as formal charges were brought.
Antoine Remy was French, but he was not a comte. His accomplice was an Englishwoman named Ethel Driscol, now Mrs. Remy. Her father had been a jeweler, and she knew the worth of gems, gold, and silver, and how to create pieces. Unfortunately, she used her talent in illegal pursuits.
“Those idiots were so easily distracted,” she told Ruthven, who questioned them in the cellar of the tavern. “It really was too easy. A man with a reputation thinks he can’t be swindled. I’m here to tell you that he can.”
She had been the instigator of the scheme. Remy was broke, enjoyed the finer things in life, and willingly went along with his wife. Their plan was simple. Sell a piece of jewelry and distract the owner long enough to swap out the original with a fake. If Ethel was able to see where the key was hidden, they returned later and stole a set from the safe. They had been successful in large cities in Ireland, Wales, and Scotland. Leaving Manchester, London was their last stop before sailing for the Continent.
“It was a good run for them,” said Ruthven when the interrogation concluded. “I’m referring you for a bonus, Norton.”
Elijah considered the end of this case a good time to finish his career on Bow Street. The bonus would help him retire earlier. Roger and Harry had just finished a case outside of London, and Roger was itching to get started as a Runner.
Later that night, he sat in the O’Brien parlor, drinking fine Irish whiskey. They were celebrating the successful close of the jewelry case. Nora sat beside him, beaming with pride.
“The woman was horrid,” recounted Elijah. “Harping on her husband, who whined and pleaded not to be put in a filthy cell with disgusting, smelly criminals.”
“I suppose there is a hierarchy even with thieves,” mused Benjamin. “Ruthven passed along the evidence to me, and Angus should have it by next week.”
“We haven’t seen Angus since last month’s dinner,” said Maggie, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “That’s why these dinners are so important.”
“Dat boyo’s been busy since his father died, my sweet. He’s helped his brother with da details of da estate.” He winked at Maggie. “We should be happy for him dat he’s back in their good graces. He needs them as much as he needs us.”
“It’s a shame you won’t continue your career in investigation,” Nora said to Eli. “It’s a knack many don’t have.”
“He’ll help in other ways,” said Maggie. “I heard good news concerning yer painting for Lord Tamber.”
“Yes, he wants me to paint his parents,” Eli said, remembering the generous wage offered. “A gift for Christmastide.”
“The Marquess and Marchioness of Whimbley,” said Mattie, Harry’s wife, now officially Lady Walters. “Your wheel of fortune is rising.”
Gus raised his glass and began to sing, everyone joining in. Aoranach let a howl as accompaniment.
For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow
For he's a jolly good fellow, and so say all of us!
