“Too early. However I know you rise with the sun most days, and I did not sleep at all, so here I am.” He threw himself into a chair and accepted some coffee from a footman.
Brentworth eyed him, then gestured for the servant to leave. Gabriel did not miss the significance of that. With one look, Brentworth had guessed this must be a very private conversation.
“I need some information from you if you have it,” Gabriel began. “Simple answers.”
“It is yours unless giving it would be high treason.”
They both laughed even though that was not a joke. Brentworth probably did learn things it might be treason to share.
“I need you to refrain from asking me any questions in turn.”
“Will I want to?”
“Probably. No, definitely.”
“Does this have to do with the shepherdess?”
“Damnation. You are already asking questions. If you can’t—”
“Very well, I remove the question and will ask no others.”
Gabriel reached into his pocket. “One more thing. No scolds.”
“None at all? If I can’t scold, my day will be incomplete.”
“I am serious.”
“Fine. No scolds. It is sounding like you are in some trouble. I hope not.”
“That sounded like a scold, damn it.”
“A very small and oblique one. I am done now.”
Gabriel removed two papers from his pocket and unfolded them. “Do you know what these are? Do you recognize them?”
Brentworth took the drawings and studied them. “I know them.”
“What can you tell me about them?”
“This one here was recently stolen from Sir Malcolm Nutley. Did you know that already? He lives next to your brother.”
“No questions. What else do you know?”
Brentworth sat back in his chair. “They are very old. Sixth century. Maybe seventh. Not Celtic despite the linear decoration. The remains of a barbaric tribe more likely. A Frankish one perhaps, that had tried a little raiding on these shores.” He paused. “They were dug up in Devonshire some years ago.”
“You know them very well if you know that.”
Brentworth shrugged. “My father collected. He liked to talk about such things. I suffered it, being a dutiful son.”
“How did Sir Malcolm come by this item here?”
“It is a buckle. A pin would connect the two pieces here. The hoard was auctioned off here in London. Privately. Sir Malcolm bought it. There were, I think, twenty items. This was one of the best. There were three, maybe four, of this quality.”
“Is it valuable?”
“He paid little for it compared to its worth today. At the time, it was a novelty. Now, with the fashion for Britain’s ancient history, it is valued as an artifact. Yes, it is valuable.” He tapped the other drawing. “This one was bought by Argyll. He gave it to the British Museum. It is in a case there. Or is it?”
“No questions.”
