“Abberline made a visit to Sussex Square earlier tonight,” Munro told him.
Brodie was quiet, too quiet, watching me as Munro explained the conversation that had taken place at Sussex Square.
“He left two of his men at the front gates to watch for anyone who might arrive or leave. I made certain we were not followed when we left.”
Brodie looked at him. “How might ye have done that?”
“Her ladyship’s family has a most interesting history.”
“And her ladyship?” Brodie asked with a frown.
“If Abberline was smart, which he is not, he would have been concerned for his neck instead of concerned about his future. Agowkto be certain.” There was a faint smile.
“I would not want to wager against Lady Montgomery in a fight,” he continued. “There is steel, aye? Beneath the satin and fine manners—sharp steel,” he added with a look over at me.
Brodie nodded. “Aye.”
Another look passed between the friends.
“I think I need another beer and food, if there’s any to be had,” Munro commented as he went to the door.
“Abberline interrupted supper.” He let himself out.
“Gowk?” I asked, the word Munro had used to describe Abberline. It was one I had not heard before.
“It meansfool, asimpleton.”
“That perfectly describes Abberline,” I replied.
“Aye.” He was thoughtful. “Ye shouldna have come here. Munro could have brought word about what ye learned.”
“We had that conversation,” I admitted.
“And ye still took a chance.”
“Munro found another way to leave Sussex Square.”
“Without climbin’ over the wall, even though yer dressed for it?”
I had missed this, our discussion about clues in a case, the conversation that went with it, the sound of his voice. And the way he valued what I had to say, even if he didn’t always agree with me.
“There is another way out,” I continued to explain our escape. “Munro called it asmuggler’s gate, at the edge of the property.”
“Aye, used in the past to avoid the tax man, most usually over contraband whisky.” He shook his head. “I am not surprised.”
Nor was I, considering one of my aunt’s most lucrative business ventures.
“And then ye come here.” He shook his head as he reached out and removed my cap. My hair fell to my shoulders. He shook his head.
“Mo lu uy,” he said in Gaelic, thoughtful as he took a length of my hair in his fingers and stroked it.
I looked at him in question.
“Ye shouldna have come here...this place. If ye had been followed, yer fate might be the same…”
“But we weren’t followed. And I have been in worse places,” I replied. “TheChurchand the Vaults in Edinburgh.”
He nodded. “Ye seem to have a penchant for such things. But it’s no place for ye.”
