Page 49 of Guardian
“Oh, that’s awful,” I said, feeling genuine dismay. “And he’s been an invalid for twenty years? The poor man.”
She nodded. “It was a terrible thing, and he’s in a good deal of pain.”
The door opened, revealing the son, whose face was dark with anger. I handed back the watch I held.
“Would you like to see another?”
“No, thank you. But I will bring my husband. I think he’d like this one best”—I pointed to the gold Breguet, the first I’d held—“but I’d like him to choose.”
I stepped away, pausing by a case that held gold rings. In the mirror, I watched as the man approached the clerk, coming close enough that her body tensed and she leaned away, although she held her ground. His left hand clawed around her elbow, and she flinched. His jowls shook as he quietly berated her—for answering my questions? Not making the sale?
Abruptly he released her and turned away. She rubbed her elbow and caught my eye in the mirror. She flushed with embarrassment.
If the man hadn’t been standing there, I’d have told her he was the one who should be ashamed. This was impossible, of course, so I did what I could. I turned back and said in my sweetest tone, “Thank you again. You’ve been so much more helpful than the clerks in other shops. I’ll be back with my husband soon.”
With that, I departed and started in the direction of the fenced alley that ran behind the shop.
Given that there were constables stationed by the alleys after dark, I had wondered if we might come in through an upstairs window or across the roof instead. The presence of the Simonson family in the quarters above made that unlikely. But at least I’d learned the necklace was on the premises, in the workroom to the left.
There was no constable at the alley’s entrance; apparently, he didn’t arrive at his post until later. When I could be sure I was unobserved, I approached the gate. A padlock hooked through a metal loop secured two iron bars as thick as my arm. With all vertical bars, the gate provided no convenient footholds, and the height was such that no one could easily be boosted over. It would require a rope ladder with grappling hooks. Good lord.
I walked around front again, strolling the pavement opposite Willingham’s and Simonson’s. It was then that something curious struck me. From left to right, the façade of the building consisted of a wooden-framed door, then a narrow bit of brick, a large plate glass window, then an expanse of brick, then another window, then Simonson’s door. But recalling the main rooms of both stores, I thought the brick section in the middle seemed oddly large. Was it possible that the inside walls of the two jewelers didn’t touch? It seemed there was a gap of a few feet between them. What could be the reason for that? Privacy from each other? Storage?
I left Hatton Garden considering these additional obstacles and possibilities. How I wished I knew where Amelia was, for she might have helped me. But she had left the night I saw her at the inn, and keeping herself to herself, she hadn’t yet sent me her address.
As I crossed Leather Lane, I turned back to examine the row of plate glass windows glinting in the late-afternoon light, the cloth awnings fluttering in the breeze, the pedestrians on the pavement, the traffic thinned from earlier. I exited Hatton Garden and walked south, as I had before. At the corner, I observed a wine and spirits store across the way and a cheese shop beside it—both of which no doubt stocked commodities brought in from across the Channel.
I halted, thinking.
The shop clerk had said Simonson’s had moved to Hatton Garden only two years ago from Clerkenwell, like many other jewelers. Before that, the area was home to a miscellaneous collection of shops, many of which received smuggled goods.
James knew this area, for it was here he’d made his nighttime escapades, transferring goods through secret passageways and back alleys. The shops were cheek by jowl; no doubt some of the passages remained. And perhaps he’d have an idea about why there seemed to be a space between the two jewelers.
If I was reading him right, he wouldn’t mind me finding him to ask.
Chapter 17
Ididn’t know where James lived, but if a woman wants to find a man, there are ways.
I started for the Silver Plover, where James had taken me. When I entered, it was the same warm, cheerful room crowded with men and women and children. I scanned every table, to no avail. Bad luck, but by no means insurmountable. I made my way to the barkeep. “I’m looking for James Kinnon. Has he been in tonight?”
“Aye, come and gone, not ten minutes ago.”
“I know he’s in a lodging house nearby. Do you know which?”
His head cocked, and a knowing grin curved his mouth. “Aye.” He drew out the syllable teasingly, but I refused to flush. He pointed with his thumb. “Out the door, take a left and then the second right. Look fer two side-by-side front doors, painted dark red.”
I found it easily enough and entered the foyer, glad for the lighted lamp hanging on the wall. I climbed the wooden steps and knocked on the first door. There was no answer. At the second door, a young woman answered, and I asked if James Kinnon lived here.
“Never heard of him.” She scowled suspiciously and turned her head. “Is this another of your sluts?”
My eyebrows flew up, but before I could retort, a masculine voice growled from the room beyond: “Don’t be stupid.” It rose in pitch to add, “He’s next floor up. Room over this one.”
I called a thank-you to the faceless voice and started up the next flight of stairs. There was no carpeting on the stairs, but the steps were swept clean, the walls decently painted, and the banister polished and in good repair. James was doing well working at the Custom House, I thought, feeling pleased for him. I reached his door and was relieved to see a light emanating underneath. I removed one glove and knocked, and after a second, bootsteps approached and the door was pulled open.
James stood in his trousers and a loose white shirt, open at the throat and rolled back from his wrists. A slow smile lit his face. “This is a good surprise for the end of a day.”
“I hope you’re not hiding from anyone,” I said. “Because that barkeep at the Silver Plover will tellanyonewhere you live.” He laughed. “Can I come in?”
