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“What was he doing?”

“He were hailin’ a cab,” she answered. At this, Mrs. Vincent breathed in sharply.

“Gracious, girl, why didn’t you say this before now?” she chided.

“I weren’t supposed to be outside takin’ me break, especially with everythin’ happenin’,” Marianna explained. “I thought I’d be sacked.”

Mrs. Vincent sighed irritably. But Leo was more interested in what additional information the maid could provide than in chastising her.

“Marianna, did you hear anything Mr. Lawlor said to the cab driver? Directions, perhaps?” She might have been asking for too much; it would be incredibly lucky if the maid had overheard their exchange. But to her surprise, Marianna nodded.

“Aye, I heard him tell the cabbie he was for Paddington Station.”

The breath hitched in Leo’s throat and then gusted out in defeat. “Paddington Station. You are certain?”

The maid nodded, and Leo thanked her for her honesty. But she also felt sorely tempted to chide Marianna for staying quiet for so long. Mr. Lawlor had fled the house even before Rob and Paul from Tate’s had come to collect Mrs. Lawlor. Hours had passed, and his train from the busy railway station had surely left by now. Still, she would alert Jasper. He might be able to learn which train Mr. Lawlor had boarded, or if the man had any family he might have traveled to.

As Marianna hurried out of the dining room, Mrs. Vincent stepped forward. “I’ve searched the house, as the inspector requested, but I cannot find the wedding photographs anywhere.”

Jasper had asked for a description of Sebastian Lawlor, or better yet, a photograph. The housekeeper assured him they had a portrait of him, taken with Mrs. Lawlor the day of their wedding.

“It was framed, on the mantel of the drawing room,” Mrs. Vincent said. “And another was in Mrs. Lawlor’s bedchamber. Both are gone. I cannot understand why Mr. Lawlor would abscond with them.”

Leo thought she could. Without the photographs, the police would not know what Sebastian Lawlor looked like when and if they were summoned for an investigation. The man had been deliberate in his actions; he’d anticipated being sought.

“The police have an artist who often sketches portraits based on descriptions witnesses give,” Leo said as she exited the dining room. “Inspector Reid may ask for your help with that.”

The housekeeper agreed readily, then led Leo to the front sitting room. Jasper was already there, along with Constable Price. The constable peered at Leo with a wariness that many officers at the Yard showed her. A young woman working at a morgue disturbed them, she knew, and many did not like that she had been involved in a handful of Scotland Yard investigations. This was especially true as she’d proved to be as good as they were at their jobs—if not better.

“Mrs. Lawlor is resting,” Jasper said as he joined Leo. He was ready to leave, she sensed. So was she. “I’ll return tomorrow to question her.”

“A maid witnessed Sebastian Lawlor hiring a cab earlier this morning. He gave directions for Paddington Station,” Leo revealed.

Jasper grimaced with the same patent disappointment that she had felt.

After bidding Mrs. Vincent a good day, they stepped out into cold, gray, late-afternoon weather.

Jasper addressed Constable Price. “Go to Paddington Station and speak to the ticket office. See if the clerk recalls Mr. Lawlor purchasing a ticket this morning around eleven. Also, talk to porters, station agents, anyone who might have seen him.”

Price nodded and left on his task, though Leo couldn’t help but think it would be a futile endeavor until they had either a photograph or a sketch of Sebastian Lawlor.

“I’ve already sent PC Mills to the Central Bank,” Jasper said, referring to one of his newer constables. “He’s checking to see if Mr. Lawlor was there this afternoon to access their account or safe deposit box.”

To clear them out, Leo inferred.

A hired carriage came along the pavement when Jasper flagged the driver, and after settling inside, Leo rested against the cushion, the tension draining from her shoulders. Jasper sat across from her, his feet bracketing hers. Though they weren’t touching, the positioning still felt intimate.

“Sebastian Lawlor wasn’t liked or trusted by Hastings or the other footmen in the house,” Jasper said after a moment. “He owned a moderately successful import-export shop near Wapping Basin on Redmead Lane. But there was the general belief among the staff that he had married Augusta Hart for her money.”

“Mrs. Vincent said Augusta was perfectly content as an unmarried woman, and that Sebastian’s romantic interest in her came as a shock to them all,” Leo provided. “A happy one, for Augusta.”

She felt sorry for the woman and for the painful humiliation that would no doubt grip her when she was alert enough to understand what her husband had done.

“A bottle of laudanum is missing from her bedroom,” Jasper said.

“I know. It was prescribed as treatment for her abdominal illness, which sounds very much like long-term arsenic poisoning.”

He removed his bowler and set it in his lap, allowing a lock of his honey-blond hair to sweep over his brow. “Arsenic?”