“Good evening.” Clarkson nodded in greeting. His voice was deep and clear, with a tendency to carry too easily.
“Shhh.” Lyman motioned for silence as he whispered. “I need you to distract Mr. Wood for me. Can you find a way to keep him in his room for five minutes?”
Clarkson’s eyebrows shot up, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Dare I ask why?”
“Better not to,” Lyman replied with a rueful sigh. Though Clarkson was intelligent enough to guess, he’d rather not recount the specifics of his predicament while Wood was just in the next room. “Will you do it?”
“Of course.” Clarkson stopped to think for a moment, his rich brown eyes narrowing in concentration. “Though the surest way to keep him talking is to pretend I’m too ignorant to understand something without his help, which I shallneverlive down. I hope you appreciate what a sacrifice this is for me.”
“I’ll buy all your tobacco for a year,” Lyman promised.
With a look of great forbearance, Clarkson turned himself toward Wood’s room. He hadn’t yet drawn close enough to knock when the door opened and its occupant stepped out. He looked startled to find both men watching him.
“I thought I heard you come in.” Wood nodded toward Clarkson. “Did you finish reviewing the jurisprudence for Mr. Hirsch?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure how to interpret an older case I found. Would you have time to go over it with me before I turn in my notes? You might spot something I’ve missed.” Clarkson was doing a convincing imitation of someone who looked up to Mr. Wood, which couldn’t be easy. But just as Lyman had started to slip away, confident that all was in hand, his friend’s tone changed. “Wait a minute. Is that my cravat?” He pointed at the blue silk encircling Mr. Wood’s collar.
“What?” Wood glanced down. “No, I don’t believe so. I have one in this color, you know.”
“It’s been missing for weeks. Did you borrow it without asking?”
“What an accusation!” Wood turned to Lyman for assistance, forcing him to halt his retreat. “Are you hearing this?”
“Mr. Clarkson, didn’t you have something you wanted Mr. Wood to look at?” Lyman tried hopefully. But the subterfuge was forgotten.
“Let me see it,” Clarkson insisted. “Mine has my initials sewn in at the back. Then we’ll know.”
“This is absurd!” Wood huffed with indignation. “I won’t be treated like a common thief in my own home.”
“I never said you were a thief,” Clarkson replied, his voice tight. “I said that it looks exactly like the cravat I’ve been missing and I want to check for my initials. Perhaps the washerwoman mixed it up.”
This didn’t sound like an explanation that anyone believed for an instant, but it would have allowed Wood to save face, if only he would take the opportunity. “I can’t believe your insolence! If you keep this up, I’ll have words with Mr. Hirsch.”
Clarkson snorted. “You’re going to ask him to preside as judge in a dispute over a cravat?”
Wood grew red in the face. “I’ll tell him you’ve been harassing me with unfounded accusations!”
“Fine,” Clarkson said. “Keep my cravat. I’ll buy another.” He didn’t sound happy about it, but the embarrassment of taking the quarrel to Mr. Hirsch must have outweighed the value of the patch of silk in his estimation.
“It isn’t yours,” Wood returned peevishly.
“Which you could easily prove by letting me have a look.”
“You’ve no right to look! My word as a gentleman should beenough.” Wood stamped his foot on the floor. “That’s it. Iamgoing to tell Mr. Hirsch about this. He should know what sort of man he’s opened his house to.” Wood strode toward the door.
“You can’t be serious,” Clarkson called after him, hurrying to catch up. “I said you could keep the bloody thing.”
Lyman didn’t waste a minute. This wasn’t the method he would have chosen to empty the second floor, but empty it was, and who knew for how long. He raced back to his room and motioned to Della. “Hurry, they’ve gone downstairs for a minute. If we’re quick, we can have you out of here before they return.”
Della didn’t need a second warning. She snatched up her things and scurried to the door, holding the hood of her cloak up to hide her face as she went. They paused at the top of the stairs to listen. They could hear knocking on the first floor below and a flurry of voices as the argument was recounted. A click of the latch signaled that they’d gone inside.
Lyman went first, motioning Della to follow as he confirmed the landing was safe. They fled the street as soon as they could to find a hansom cab on the corner. He didn’t feel right sending Della off alone with an unknown man as her driver, so Lyman accompanied her to Mayfair and said his goodbyes there.
“I’m terribly sorry about all of that,” he began. “I should have known it was too risky to bring you to my lodgings.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said quickly. “I don’t regret a thing.”
She was daring enough to risk a kiss, her mouth brushing over his so quickly that Lyman scarcely had time to reach out to touch her before she pulled away, and then he was watching the sway of Della’s skirts as she rushed back to the safety of her front door.
