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Henry looked down and patted the boy’s shoulder. ‘Thank you for reminding us, Billy,’ he murmured gruffly.
‘For pity’s sake, have a deuced look inside the tin, Henry,’ Charlotte interrupted impatiently. Favouring his sibling with an irritated glare that affected her not one wit, he picked up the tin and shook it. It made no sound at all, and when he finally prised off the lid, he half expected to find nothing.
However, in that, he was wrong. There were two pieces of paper, both folded into small squares. Frowning, he picked up the top one and opened it out. After a few seconds he handed it over to Rob, murmuring, ‘What do you make of this?’
The solicitor studied the paper for so long that Beatrix felt like screaming and snatching it out of his hand.
Finally, Rob looked up. ‘It’s a deed of trust,’ he announced, ‘or rather the first draft of one, for this society... And it was drawn up by none other than Grainger and Holt.’
‘So, they didn’t just do the company books,’ Ben interjected through clenched teeth, ‘they were actually involved in setting up the charity itself.’
A babble of excited chatter broke out while Henry pulled the final piece of paper from the tin. Unfolding it carefully, he looked down at the contents.
It was a drawing, obviously done by someone with talent, of the head and shoulders of a man.
Underneath was a description written in tight script.
‘Middling height, plenty of grey above his ears. Big bloody scar above his eyebrow he reckoned he got from a duel.’
Below the writing was another, this time smaller, sketch of what looked to be a signet ring with a distinct pattern across the front. Henry looked up. ‘This picture has to be Jacob White. Do you recognise him as the man in Castel-a-Mare, Ben?’
He handed the drawing to the policeman. After a second, Ben shook his head. ‘Hard to say. It was dark in the kitchen, and I didn’t notice a scar. I think he had grey hair, and he certainly wasn’t towering above either Drayton or Thorpe.’ He shook his head, preparing to hand the drawing back, until suddenly he stopped, holding the sketch closer. ‘I feel as though I ought to recognise the crest on that ring though.’ He frowned, looking round the table. ‘Remember Thorpe called him, My lord… It’s definitely looking more and more likely that Jacob White has a title.’
‘Can me an’ Arnold ‘ave a look?’ Gladys’s request came out of nowhere. After a few seconds hesitation, Henry nodded, and Ben passed the portrait over.
For a second the two of them stared down at the sketch, then looked at each other.
‘We seen ‘im more ‘an once in the Dog,’ Glady’s informed them. ‘Sometimes sits wi’ a woman.’ She gave a shrug and looked over at her companion. ‘I reckon now might be a good time ter get the stiff out o’ the cupboard. Ain’t no use leavin’ her there less’n we want to advertise that summat dodgy’s goin’ on.’
Arnold nodded, and seconds later they were climbing the stairs while everyone else stood in undecided silence. ‘You think they might need ‘elp?’ Billy muttered as they heard a cupboard door slam and the thud of something hitting the floor.
‘I get the feeling that Gladys and Arnold are not entirely unfamiliar with moving cadavers from one place to another,’ Henry murmured, ‘and I for one would prefer not to observe them in action…’
The sound of thumping came down the stairs accompanied by Gladys’s cheerful ‘It’s a bloody good job ‘er legs ain’t still locked, else we’d not ‘ave got her round that turn in the stairs.’
Moments later, both appeared back in the kitchen. ‘She’s back in ‘er chair,’ Gladys announced. ‘Better she ends up in the ground than a bloody cupboard.’
Henry started to say thank you, when suddenly there was a hammering on the front door.
CHAPTER 9
For a few seconds, the silence in the kitchen was absolute. Ben was the one to move first. ‘Stay here,’ he ordered everyone in the room before stepping cautiously back into the hall.
‘Gather everything together,’ Henry whispered harshly. ‘Make sure we leave nothing.’
Rob swiftly gathered all the papers, putting them into a jacket pocket, while Charlotte put the drawing back into the tin, tucking it into her reticule.
Seconds later, Ben was back. ‘I think they’re local police, though I can’t quite see their uniform through the frosted glass. But whoever they are, we can’t be found here. We’ll have to leave through the back.’
Being closest to the kitchen door, Arnold tried twisting the doorknob, but predictably, it was locked.
‘She only gave me a key to the front door,’ Billy whispered desperately as the hammering came again.
Arnold didn’t hesitate. Taking hold of the knob, he put his shoulder to the wood and leaned his whole weight against it. For a few heart-stopping seconds, the door didn’t move. Then with a soft crack, it opened.
‘Get ter the end o’ the garden,’ Gladys threw behind her, holding up her skirts and forcing her way through the unkempt shrubbery towards a mostly hidden wall at the back.
After the merest pause, everyone followed, with Ben bringing up the rear. Glancing back into the kitchen, he was just in time to hear glass breaking before he carefully shut the door, hoping to at least temporarily disguise their exit point.
