“At this point, anyone could have stolen them,” Blake offered.
“What are you going to do?” Gibby asked.
Race took another sip from his wine and briefly told Gibby about his meeting with Bickerman and what the runners would be doing to find the pearls.
“So the only thing to do now is to wait and see what turns up when the houses are searched.”
Gibby leaned back heavily in his chair and sighed. “Why would Susannah want to be in contact with Spyglass, Winston, or Smith if she was in on the theft?”
“Only one thing I can think of,” Morgan said. “She wants Race to think she’s innocent. She knew you would tell him of her visit.”
Gibby rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “No, that doesn’t feel right.”
Blake picked up the wine bottle and added another splash to the three glasses on the table. “Race, don’t let this get to you or change any of the plans you already have in place. There is the possibility that Susannah is doing this to make it look like she’s not involved. Just let Bickerman handle this.”
Race didn’t want Susannah to even think about contacting those men. He knew he was not going to be any good at waiting. Already he wanted to see Susannah again. He wanted to tell her once again to stay away from those men. The thought of her being alone with any of them made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
“Just in case you want to talk to her about any of this, she’ll be at the Kendricksons’ party tomorrow night,” Gibby offered.
“In that case, I think we’ll all be there,” Blake said.
“Race, while you are deciding what to do about the pearls, Susannah, and the men,” Morgan said, “I suggest that since we are all together, we talk to Gibby about this fight with Prattle.”
Race was in no mood to talk about Prattle, but he didn’t say anything because he was happy to get them off the subject of Susannah.
“What do you want to say to me?”
“It’s no secret that we don’t want you going through with this fight,” Morgan said. “Race was supposed to talk to you about the possibility of paying Prattle off. It could very well be that money is what he was after in the first place.”
“If he wants money,” Gibby said, “he’d better bet against himself and put a wager on me, because that’s the only way he’s going to get any blunt out of this fight.”
“I heard just today that Prattle made rumblings that he may not go through with the fight,” Blake said, “and now he has men offering him money to go through with it, win or lose. I don’t think he’s going to back out.”
“Look at your hands, Gib,” Morgan said. “You’re too old to fight.”
Gibby looked at his enlarged hands and said, “I have people coming up to me on the street just to wish me luck. Why would I want to give that up?”
“Because you are not a young man anymore,” Morgan offered.
“Fiddlesticks. Lord Chesterfield always said ‘You are as young as you feel.’”
“Gib.” Blake laughed. “You know Chesterfield never said that.”
“He could have said it,” Gibby argued. “You don’t know he didn’t.”
“Yes, we do. Remember, our grandmother drilled his best quotes into us. That’s not pompous enough for him to have said.”
The server put a glass of milk down in front of Gibby. Morgan and Blake looked at Gibby.
“What is this about?” Blake asked.
“Don’t ask,” Race said.
“It all has to do with getting my body strong for the fight.”
Gib stood up and threw three or four punches into the air as he shuffled his feet back and forth.
“How’s that? Am I getting quicker?” he asked, throwing more jabs into the air.
