Page 22

He tipped a look her way. “You touched her,” he said, a hint of intrigue in his tone. “Your hand lingered, and I wondered if you’d seen anything.”

“No.” Frustration filled her at the admission. “I only sensed her emotions. I did try to see any images that might come.”

“I know you would have tried.” Gideon shot her a look of such understanding that it made her more regretful that she’d been unable to see anything that might guide them toward Iris.

“What were her feelings?” He gestured toward the front of the bank, tucked next to a jeweler’s shop.

“Fear, chiefly,” she told him. “For Iris. Also guilt and regret. I suspect she wished she’d pressed harder to learn details about the man Iris spoke to her about.”

“I’m still not completely convinced that she might not have been referring to Abraham Seaton,” Gideon said as they waited for carriages to pass, so that they could cross the street and approach the bank.

“If he’s able to step away from his duties for a few minutes, hopefully we can get a sense of his character,” Electra said.

Gideon laid a hand protectively at her back as they crossed the street. “I hope she was correct about Miss Delacourt confiding in him, and gave him more details. Preferably a name, even a location.”

The bank had an elegant limestone façade with dual-column-framed front doors. Inside, the marble floor echoed the sounds of their boot heels clicking with every step, and the dark mahogany counters and polished brass fixtures projected a sense of wealth without ostentation. Clerks in frock coats perched on high stools at desks beyond the lobby. On the opposite side, a cashier counted out gold sovereigns and weighed them on a brass scale before bending to make a notation in a thick ledger.

Electra counted almost a dozen clerks seated at desks neatly arranged in rows of three.

Before they could go much farther, an attendant stepped forward.

“May I assist you, sir and madam?”

Gideon reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew a card and offered it to the young man as he said, “Yes, we are here to speak to Mr. Abraham Seaton.”

The attendant’s eyes widened, presumably reacting to Gideon’s title.

Yet at the murmur of his name, Electra noticed one gentleman with broad shoulders, blond hair, and gold-rimmed spectacles who lifted his head and peered their way.

“I have some questions for him,” Gideon said.

And as he spoke to the attendant, the blond-haired man stood from his desk, lifted his hands to neaten his tie, and then strode forward.

“Hello,” he said amiably. “I am Abraham Seaton. I couldn’t help but overhear you mention my name.”

“My name is Pierce, and this is Miss Electra Poole. We’d like to speak to you privately, if we may, Mr. Seaton. It won’t take long.”

The attendant looked between them, offered Gideon’s calling card to Seaton, and then stepped away. The young man’s hand tightened around the card until it bent.

“We have a few questions about Iris Delacourt,” Gideon said.

Electra felt a wave of terror from the man at the same moment she noticed the physical signs of it.

Seaton had begun to tremble. His lips quivered. Muscles in his jaw tensed. “Did you…find her?” he whispered.

“No, we have not.” Gideon spoke the words with a question in his tone. He flicked a look at Electra, his brow creased.

She suspected he wondered, as she did, why Mr. Seaton would think a detective would come to personally deliver news that the missing young woman had been found.

For a moment, Seaton stood as if in shock, staring at them, yet looking through them. His lips moved, but he couldn’t seem to form words. Nothing emerged.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he said, then turned on his heel and stepped away.

“His reaction was strangely visceral,” Gideon murmured.

“He’s terrified.”

“Of what?”