Then he was at the window, and here he paused, wondering if this was the point where he acknowledged defeat, for the glass was filthy and he could not see where the latch was. He had brought a flat metal bar with him, purchased by Harold from a tiny shop near the church, so he started to worry away at the window in a couple of places where he thought the latch might be. To his surprise, the window abruptly swung open, knocking him from his precarious perch, so that he slithered a few painful feet down the tree before grabbing a branch firmly enough to stop his descent.
For a few minutes, he could think of nothing but the pain in a particularly troubling place, but as soon as that subsided enough for his brain to function again, he climbed up to the windowsill and gingerly clambered over it.
He was in! For an instant, exhilaration rose unstoppably and he laughed out loud. But he could not linger, for the sun would soon be gone and he would have to make the descent down the tree before it was too dark to see.
The room was long and thin, with windows on all sides. That meant plenty of light to see by, but he must be very careful not to show himself at any of the windows. Dropping to the floor, he crawled across the room to the writing desk and felt underneath for the key. There it was! Exactly as Tess had predicted, it was in the same place as at Corland. Then across to the wardrobe, manoeuvre the door open without standing up, and there was the safe. Excitedly, he fumbled with the key, dropped it with a metallic clang, tried again, the door swung open.
So much gold! He sat back on his heels, astonished. Everything Tess had said was true, was his first thought. He had never quite believed in the existence of her great fortune, assuming it to be a few pieces of gold — worth a few hundredpounds at most. But this! He could not even begin to guess at its value.
He picked up the topmost bar… and then froze.
Behind him came the distinct sound of a gun being cocked.
“I should not move, if I were you, my lord,” came a voice.
12: The Black Swan
The man had a cultured accent, that was Edward’s first thought. The second was that the fellow knew who he was. He was not, then, a hired guard who might panic or shoot accidentally.
“You will not shoot me,” Edward said with more confidence than he felt, but he did not move all the same.
The man chuckled. “What makes you so sure of that?”
“I am a peer of the realm, I am unarmed and I am fully entitled to be in this house.”
“The first I concede, the second is at present unconfirmed and as to the third, opinions may differ on the point.”
Now it was Edward’s turn to chuckle. “I concede your last point. May I turn round? My back is not my best feature.”
“Slowly, and stay on the ground, Lord Tarvin.”
Edward did as he was bid and saw that the man was standing just to one side of the window facing the house. He was a small man, a pistol in one hand and the other resting on a businesslike sword.
“You have the advantage of me, sir.”
“Captain Michael Edgerton at your service, my lord. Forgive me if I do not bow. A cocked gun is a delicate creature, not liking too much movement.”
“You could always uncock it,” he said.
The captain laughed. “Not yet, my lord. Let us complete the introductions. My colleague just entering through the window you helpfully left open is Mr James Neate. He will bow to you, since his pistols are still in his pocket.”
“You seem to have everything in hand, Michael,” Neate said, making a flourishing bow.
Edward could not help laughing at the two of them. “So what are you going to do, Captain? Arrest me? Send for the constables? Ring a peal over me?”
“None of those,” Edgerton said. “My lord, you look uncomfortable crouched like that. Perhaps you would care to sit over there with your back to the wall. Yes, keep hold of that gold bar. If you have that in your hand I need not worry about you reaching for a knife or pistol. James, check what is in the safe, will you?”
Edgerton sat on the floor, too, the pistol still steady in his hand, while Neate crawled over to the safe. “Some documents… purchase documents for properties… certificates relating to investments. Miss Nicholson’s trustees will want to know about these. The rest is the gold bars. Shall I count them?”
Edgerton agreed and for some time there was silence as Neate shuffled the bars about. “Seventy five,” he said eventually. “Seventy-six with his lordship’s. Some variation in size. They will need to be properly valued.”
“True,” Edgerton said. “Now put them back in the safe and lock it. I will keep the key.”
“Now wait a minute,” Edward said in alarm, as Neate instantly complied. “That gold belongs to Miss Nicholson, and it should be given to her, not left here.”
“Ah, yes, the question of who owns this is an interesting one,” Edgerton said, his grin revealing rows of gleaming teeth. “It is not for us to determine, that much is certain. You may keep that one bar to show Miss Nicholson, if you wish, Lord Tarvin, and you may want to have it valued. That will give you a rough idea of the fortune in the safe. But we do not want to linger here, and risk discovery. Shall we all repair to the Black Swan to discuss this further, preferably over a glass of something decent?”
“Is there anything decent at the Black Swan?” Edward said with sudden interest. “For there is nothing drinkable at the White Swan.”
