Charlotte sucked in a breath. She had used the aphorism to explain to the boys why gathering so much seemingly meaningless information was important for her work. Apparently, Hawk had taken her words to heart.
She stared down at the grubby piece of paper, which was still clutched in his hand. “And you’ve found one of those bits and bobs?”
Hawk tugged at the front of his jacket—she didn’t care to identify what foul-looking substance was streaked over the notched collar—and cleared his throat.
“Mebbe,” came the tentative answer. “I arsked—asked—each person we questioned to think hard and describe what the coves were wearing. The first few didn’t remember nuffink—nothing—save for a dark coat and hat.”
When Hawk became excited, his English tended to lapse back into the patter of the stews.
“But then, Fat Mary said she recalled that one of the gentlemen wuz wearing a hat with the brim curled up at the sides, and that there seemed to be a flash of something bright, like a bit of metal, on the band.”
“So Hawk thought to draw a sketch,” interjected Raven. “And Mary gabbled ‘nay’ and ‘yea’ until he got the shape right.”
“We talked to another cully,” went on Hawk, “who remembered something about a hat—”
“Said he noticed what looked to be a silver ornament in theribbon band because he was thinking of following the gentleman and pinching it,” cut in Raven. “But then decided against it because the fellow looked too alert.”
“Oiy,” agreed Hawk. “And when we showed him the finished sketch, he said it was bang on the mark.”
Charlotte realized her heart had started to thump against her ribs. “May I see it?”
Hawk solemnly unfolded the paper and slid it across the desktop.
Though smudged and rife with creases that trapped a flickering of tiny shadows, it seemed unnaturally light against the dark-grained wood.
Unclenching her fingers, she drew it closer and took a long moment to study the penciled image. The boy had a real knack for drawing. The lines were quick and simple, yet he had captured the curl of the sides and the jaunty dip of the brim at the back and front. Charlotte recognized the style—it had a name, though she couldn’t recall it—as being popular, but not at the pinnacle of fashion with the Tulips of theton.
Distinctive, but not too distinctive.
“We planned on going to Bermondsey tonight, and then on to the Puddle Dock,” said Raven, mentioning the two other murder locations. “If anyone mentions a hat, we’ll show them the drawing.”
“You think it might help?” asked Hawk.
“Yes,” replied Charlotte, still staring at the image. “I think it might help a great deal.” She took a sheet of drawing paper from her desk drawer and quickly copied the sketch.
Dare I hope the villain is a gentleman?The answer was still tauntingly unclear. Finding a madman among the vast multitudes of the city seemed an impossible task, especially as the morning papers had hinted that the authorities planned to move quickly in bringing Nicholas to trial.
Horrific crimes called for swift retribution.
If the miscreant were a member of the beau monde, that would narrow the choice of possible suspects. Which might also tighten the noose around Nicholas’s neck.
Charlotte gave the sketch back to Hawk. “That was very good thinking on your part.”
The praise brought a tinge of pink to his cheeks. His smile seemed to lighten the darkness squeezing in around them.
“Indeed, I’m grateful to both of you for your help. But now, I must insist that you head up to your aerie and get some sleep.” As the boys turned to go, she added, “And another thing—I won’t permit the investigation to interfere with your lessons. You’ll attend your regular sessions with Mr. Linsley and finish all your reading and writing assignments before taking on any other tasks.”
Raven’s expression turned mulish. “Are you saying reading and writing is more important than saving your friend’s life?”
The question was like a punch in the gut, but Charlotte managed an unflinching reply. “Yes, for the two of you, it is.”
Guilt over involving them in such a sordid brother-against-brother crime was already pricking at her conscience. She was determined that Cedric’s death not undo all her efforts to give them a life where depravity and death weren’t everyday companions.
Evil was like acid—it could all too quickly and silently corrode one’s soul.
“But . . .” Shoulders stiffening in defiance, Raven lifted his gaze to meet hers. Their eyes met and locked for several heartbeats.
Thump. Thump.
