Mr. Konrude frowned. “Tom, go up to the roof and ask Mr. Peasey to come down here, please.”
“I will go with Tom to speak to him,” James said. “It will be quicker that way.”
The butler glowered. “Hmph. All right. Tom—”
“Yes, sir.” Tom hurried forward. “This way, please, sir.”
“And I should like to see the climbing boys,” said Cecilia, speaking to Lady Newcombe. She undid the buttons of her pelisse and shrugged out of it. She held it out to the butler. He automatically accepted it. She undid the ribbons of her bonnet and handed that over, as well as her gloves.
“I have a picture of the child we are looking for,” she told Lady Newcombe, once the butler had taken her outer wear. “He looks startlingly like his uncle.”
“What is this?” Mr. Konrude demanded.
“Nothing to concern you, Mr. Konrude,” Lady Newcombe said repressively. “I’ll accompany Lady Branstoke to the parlor. See to Lady Branstoke’s garments, then have tea brought to the parlor and some refreshments for the boys.”
“Climbing boys? You’re going to give refreshments toclimbing boys?”
“Mr. Konrude, if you would stay in my employ, do not question me, no matter what instructions my son’s steward may have given you to the contrary.”
“Begging your pardon, my lady,” he said sullenly, his frown close to a pout.
“And do learn to smile,” she added, as she walked with Cecilia toward the parlor.
* * *
The accessto the roof was through an attic dormer window between two servant rooms. The window was open. James leaned out the window. There was a narrow ledge. The mansard-style slate roof went up almost vertically, then bent again at a shallower pitch. He could see where the chimney sweep had used a rope and hook to grapple a chimney and pull himself up the steep, slippery part of the slate roof.
He carefully stepped out on to the ledge. He could hear whistling from above him. At least the sweep was happy in his work.
He used the rope to pull himself up, then the ledger stones set like steps along the edge of the house wall forming the chimney, to walk up the shallower pitched roof. The chimney sweep had his back to him, pulling his mechanical device out of one chimney pot.
“Mr. Peasey,” James said.
The chimney sweep twirled around. Seeing James, he swung the mechanical device at him.
James dodged the piece of equipment. “Stop! I want to talk to you!”
Mr. Peasey ran along the roofline to the chimney on the other side of the house, down the steps, then slid down the steep portion of the roof to the narrow ledge. James came down the side he’d come up, sliding down the rope to the ledge only moments after Mr. Peasey.
Peasey made a dash for the open window.
James grabbed the man’s vest as he dove through, pulling James after him. They landed together on the hall floor. “Peasey!” James grunted.
The man fought to get away, and they crashed against the walls as James tried to maintain his grip. The chimney sweep was wiry and strong; however, James had the advantage of height and weight. He got his arm around the chimney sweep’s neck in a chokehold. “Damn you! Stop it! Stop it!”
The sweep stilled, but James could tell by the tensed muscles he was only waiting for a chance to escape.
“I want to talk to you about your new apprentice.”
He felt some of the tenseness release in the sweep. He loosened his hold a little so that Peasey could talk.
“Who offered the child to you as an apprentice?”
The sweep shook his head. James tightened his hold again. “I was in the peninsular wars,” he said in the sweep’s ear. “I know ways to hurt you,” James said menacingly.
The sweep’s eyes opened wide, and he suddenly relaxed, the fight gone. Slowly, James released him. “We want the man who sold the boy to you in apprenticeship.”
“Why?” the sweep croaked.
