They found a spot where the shadows cast by the adjacent warehouse allowed them to blend in with the sooty stone.
“By the by, these are very good,” murmured Charlotte, licking the greasy crumbs from her fingers. She had been too preoccupied to eat anything since breaking her fast at first light.
“Peg, the wife of Shoo-fly, who sweeps the horse droppings from Chancery Lane, makes ’um. She’s a werry good cook.”
“Indeed, she is.” Though mention of her husband’s profession gave Charlotte momentary pause for thought. After wiping her hands on her breeches, Charlotte looked around to check that they were alone. “As I said, I’m looking for information. I know Raven and Hawk have already asked you about the night of the murder in the Kensington Palace Gardens.”
Alice sheltered at night with several other urchins in a spot close to one of the entrances to the gardens. Between her and her friends, very few movements in and out of the royal grounds escaped them.
“However, they were looking for the description of a stranger—someone who looked like he didn’t belong.”
Alice nodded thoughtfully.
“I’m now more interested in the fancy toffs you saw that night.”
“Oiy, there was more of ’um than usual,” volunteered the girl. “That’s because there was a party at the Palace. It was all lit up, brighter than the sun.”
Ah, but all that glitters is not gold.If Nicky could be believed, there was devilish darkness lurking beneath the polished charm and scintillating smiles.
“Yes, I imagine it was quite a sight,” said Charlotte. “There were a great many guests invited, and I imagine some of them left the grounds on foot rather than by carriage.”
“Oiy.” The girl’s attention was on full alert.
“I want you to think very carefully about the gentlemen you saw leaving the gardens.” She took out Hawk’s sketch. “Do you recall anyone wearing a hat like this one?”
Alice took the sketch.
“Take your time. It’s important that you’re sure of your answer.”
Eyes narrowing in concentration, the girl studied it intently.
Charlotte held herself still and remained silent.
“Oiy.” Alice finally looked up. “A cully came out early, before the crush o’ carriages. And his hat . . .” Her grubby finger tapped the paper. “His hat was jes’ like this one.”
“You are sure?” pressed Charlotte, careful to keep her voice neutral despite the quickening of her pulse.
“I remember becuz o’ the brim. It’s got a funny little dip in the front and back.” Alice noticed the little details. “An’ becuz there was a wink o’ something shiny in the band. Ye see, when the cully passed unner the tree, a branch hit his hat and almost knocked it off. He reached te set it back, like dis . . .”
Alice mimed a motion of resettling a hat on her head. “That’s why the liddle flash caught my eye.”
Excitement was now fizzing through her blood. Even Wrexford, who bent over backward to explain things through logic, would have to admit that the presence of the same hat at two different murder scenes couldn’t be dismissed as mere coincidence.
“Can you remember anything about the gent?”
Alice thought hard, then shook her head. “Only that I’d remember iffen he’d been real tall or real short.”
“What about the shiny object in the hat—could you tell what it was?”
“Naw, ’fraid not. It looked like mebbe it was silver, but udder than that, I can’t say.”
“No matter.” Charlotte quickly dug out some more coins from her pocket and put them in Alice’s lap. “Thank you.”
Alice hesitated at taking them. “Wuz it helpful?”
“Oh, very. More than you know.”
A smile lit up the girl’s plain-as-pudding face as the coins disappeared into her tattered skirts. “Ye think the Runners snatched up the wrong man fer the murder?”
