“Curious, do you not think?” I asked Denis.
Denis regarded us both with indifference. “There was hardly time for him to be robbed. He must have been dead only a minute or two before I found him. What I think happened is that my arrival interrupted the robber or robbers, and they fled before they could finish the job.”
Possibly, but there were too many questions yet to be answered. “What about your man, Stout?”
Denis’s brows rose. “What about him?”
“According to Brewster, he fled as soon as he saw you being arrested. He accompanied you to the Seven Dials house?”
Denis gave me a nod. “I’m not such a fool as to travel about London on my own. I brought him to make certain the house was safe for me before I entered it. Rather ironic, as the outside of it proved to be less safe.”
“He was on the spot,” I continued. “In position to take the knife and do the deed while you were not looking.”
Denis’s gaze returned to his papers. “That is doubtful.”
“Mr. Stout is new, is he not? Brewster said you hired him in Rome and brought him home with you.”
Denis glanced at me as though reluctant to drag his attention from the page he read. “I’d not have hired him if he weren’t trustworthy. He had nothing to do with this.” He returned to the papers once more.
I looked to Robbie and the other two who were busily making the room comfortable for His Nibs. I suppose I expected resentment toward the newly hired Stout, but all three gave various shrugs or nods that corroborated Mr. Denis’s statement.
Robbie emitted a grunt. “Stout’s all right.”
Brewster did not seem to think so, but I didn’t argue. “Where can I find Mr. Stout? I’d like to hear his version of the tale.”
“Who knows?” Robbie answered before Denis could. “We all have our haunts, don’t we?”
“He will return to Curzon Street when it is safe,” Denis said without concern. “Was there anything else you wished to ask me, Captain? While I have these quiet hours, I would like to catch up on my correspondence.”
Denis appeared uninterested in my assistance at all. If he had not done me good turns in the past, and if I was not convinced Spendlove had it wrong, I’d have walked away and let him take his chances.
I gave him a stiff bow. “If I can help in any way, please send for me.”
Denis had already resumed his reading. “Very well. Good day, Captain.”
He’d dismissed me many times in this way from his pristine study in the Curzon Street house. Only Gibbons was missing to usher me to the door.
Robbie did it instead. He was a huge man, who’d have to stoop under the low-linteled portal to leave the chamber. When he opened the door for me, he quieted his voice to a mere earth-shaking rumble. “We’ll look after him,” he said. “Don’t you worry.”
Robbie’s reassuring words were marred by the anxiousness in his eyes. I had no answer to this, so I nodded to him and departed.
The door clanged closed behind me, and I heard a key turn firmly in the lock. Denis’s lackeys were shutting him in themselves, not to help the jailers imprison him, but to keep him safe from the other denizens of Newgate.
The rainy cold of the March morning engulfed me as I strode out of the gate to the street, thanking the turnkey who let me through.
I inhaled the air of freedom as I stepped away from Newgate and found it sweet.
Denis’s coach with Brewster awaited me up the road. When I reached the carriage, I instructed the driver to take me to Bow Street before Brewster could haul me inside.
Coachmen were paid to convey their passengers wherever commanded, but this one glared at me, his face a granite sliver between muffler and hat. “What ye want to go there for?”
“To speak to the Runners,” I said. “And the magistrate, if possible.” When the man merely stared at me, I continued, “Do you not want your master to be cleared of the charge?”
“’Course I do. But I’m letting you off in Covent Garden. Ain’t going no closer to the nick.”
Like Brewster, he wanted nothing to do with courts of law. “That suits me,” I assured him.
Brewster pulled me in just as the carriage lurched forward, nearly sending me to the floor. I gained my seat with only a minimum of cursing, while a kindly passer-by slammed the door for us.
