Eva glared with dangerous eyes. “Are you speaking of my brother?”
Crawley’s mirth died. “No, dear lady, I am not.”
Eva did not believe him. Neither did Gareth. Crawley twitched nervously. He stood. “I will remain in touch, Fitzallen. I expect you to as well. Once the pictures are sold, we can settle up. If all goes well, we can see about the others.”
“I trust my household will be spared any more intrusions,” Eva said.
Crawley faced her fully and made a bow. “You have my word.” He turned to go, and froze. The way out was blocked. Ives stood there, pistol at the ready.
Crawley pivoted, his gaze desperately searching for another exit. Gareth shook his head, and brandished his own pistol.
Ives walked over, placed a firm hold on Crawley’s shoulder, and pressed him down into his chair. “There are many more questions about those pictures before you go anywhere.”
Through the doorway, Harold could be seen marching to the entrance with his own pistol in hand and an uncompromising look on his face.
“Gareth,” Eva said. “Erasmus remained in the carriage.”
Gareth reached the door just as Harold raised his aim at a figure darting into the dark.
“Don’t kill him, Harold.”
“If you so command, sir.”
The crack of a shot sounded, then a cry of shock and pain. Gareth and Harold walked the short distance to where Erasmus writhed on the ground, holding his leg. “You damned broke it,” he screamed.
“Be glad you have the life left to complain,” Harold said. “In the army we dealt with turncoats better. Why Mr. Fitzallen here wanted you spared is beyond me.”
Gareth reached down and dragged Erasmus up by his arm. “I wanted him alive because he likes to talk. Don’t you, Erasmus?”
CHAPTER26
Talk Erasmus did. All the time that Harold cleaned, bound, and braced his leg in the kitchen, he poured out what he knew to Eva and Gareth.
He had come late to the scheme, unfortunately, and did not know the names of all involved. Eva assumed that Lord Ywain was persuading Mr. Crawley to fill in those details upstairs.
She listened instead to how Nigel had recruited Erasmus to help retrieve some property stored some distance away, and how they drove a wagon there over almost three days and moved many flat crates onto it. She heard how another man arrived as they drove away, and exchanged pistol fire with Nigel, who took that ball in his side.
“Cursing he was,” Erasmus said while he watched Harold handle him none too gently. Sweat dampened his hair, the result of terror and pain. “Cursing those who first expected him to wait forever to turn the goods into blunt, then lied to him and said it had all gone up in flames so there’d be nothing to sell after all. He guessed it was a lie, he said, and he needed money.”
Eva wanted to accuse him of lying, only right now Erasmus was too frightened to lie. Her heart sickened. Nigel had helped in the theft of the pictures, just as Mr. Crawley had implied.
“Did you help him store the crates once you returned to Langdon’s End?” Gareth asked,
Erasmus shook his head. “He left me off on the other side of town. I told him I should help, that with that wound he would only kill himself dragging the big ones off the cart and around. He wouldn’t hear me.”
Dragging those crates up to that attic probably had made the wound worse, Eva thought. It possibly did kill him, eventually.
“How did you come to be with this man tonight?” Gareth asked.
Erasmus flushed red. “Came upon them the first time they went into Miss Russell’s house. She asked me to check on things every morning, and that morning these two men were there. Wiggins, that big one, and another one. Tearing it apart, they were. They flipped me five shillings and just continued on. I’d no idea it had to do with those crates from that night. I told them there was nothing to steal, but they didn’t listen, and I couldn’t stop them. Then, the other day, Mr. Crawley was in the village with Wiggins, who pointed me out, and there was another five shillings in my hand.”
“Did you recognize Crawley from that night you helped Nigel Russell?” Gareth asked.
“I didn’t see him there. He may have been, though. I was in a wagon with the cattle under Mr. Russell’s whip, wasn’t I?”
Just then Harold pulled the rope to tie the splint in place. Erasmus screamed in pain. “Hell, you don’t have to try and kill me! We’re friends, for mercy’s sake.”
“Friends? For years you’ve been smirking about some big secret, and I go to find it was this. You’re no friend of mine if you deal in with such as that blackguard above us.” Harold gave the rope another pull for good measure. “That should fix you fine until the surgeon cuts out the ball. You’ll be fit as a fiddle for the gallows.”
