“The woman at the gate,” Byron said. “There’s more than one thief.”
February 13, 1889: Morning
Despite having been in Bath for nearlya week, Mira hadn’t seen much of the city. She walked a distance behind Walker and Liza as they made the rounds of Royal Victoria Park. Based on a brass plaque near the entrance, it had been Her Royal Majesty’s first act to open the park when she was only a princess of eleven years old. The air was crisp and fine, but the temperature was the unfortunate sort that required a coat but caused you to sweat when you wore one.
Walker and Liza were the epitome of propriety and grace, standing a foot apart, perfectly content just to be together. In the past few months, Mira had ample opportunity to be chaperoned herself, but not much experience in being the chaperone. She had determined one thing from the hour and a half she’d spent in this new occupation.
It was dull as anything.
At least her chaperones had the intrigue of being witness to police investigations.
Perhaps she was being unfair. They had spent much of the morning exploring the city center, at least what they could see with the construction around the Roman ruins. After that, they had spent a good deal of time in the botanical gardens. A fewflowers were beginning to bud and there was an abundance of friendly squirrels. But despite the beautiful landscape and architecture, she wished she were viewing it with Byron.
They had decided to let the case rest for a day or two, if only to appease their families. It was also quite possible that Silas Treadway’s mysterious partner had already fled from Bath, and with no leads as to her retreat, it might be a fool’s errand altogether.
It was nearing noon when they reached the obelisk commemorating Queen Victoria’s eighteenth birthday. Walker and Liza stopped beneath it and called her over.
“Would you like to stop in on the Sherards before we go back to Davenguard for lunch?” Walker asked.
Mira frowned. “Isn’t that a bit out of our way?”
“Not at all,” Liza said. “The Royal Crescent overlooks the smaller portion of the park.”
“I had no idea we were so close. I’d love to.”
They followed the road past a copse of trees, and sure enough The Royal Crescent stood looking down on them from the top of the hill. It took only a few minutes to come to the door of number eighteen and knock. Greerson opened the door with a bow of his head.
“May I help you?”
“Yes, we are here to call on Mr. Sherard,” Walker said.
“Mr. Sherard is still in London, sir.”
“Oh, I mean the younger Sherard,” Walker said.
Greerson nodded. “He, Mrs. Sherard, and Miss Sherard are out, I’m afraid.”
“Out?” Mira said.
“Miss Sherard received a telegram half an hour ago from the police station. They left soon after.”
Mira looked at her brother and he sighed.
“I suppose we’ll be going to the police station, then.”
***
When they entered the police station, ConstableMcGuire was manning the front desk yet again.
“I’d wondered when you’d show up, Miss,” he said. “We’ve got a right old mess here. They’re in as much of a fight as I’ve ever seen high-bred folks get into.”
“What’s happened?” Mira asked.
“Mr. Treadway’s family has come to collect him. Except, they say that the corpse isn’t him! Can you imagine that?”
Liza’s mouth fell open.
Walker asked the obvious question. “How is that possible?”
