Page 109 of The Angel Maker

—Edward

And even though it was only a hunch, he could tell from Gaunt’s expression that the name was familiar. That it was perhaps even responsible for some of the sickness the lawyer appeared to be feeling right now.

“Mr. Leland is also one of our clients,” he said.

“Your firm seems an odd choice for him.”

“How so?”

“He lives fifty miles away.”

Despite himself, Gaunt gave a nervous laugh.

“Tell me about it,” he said. “I have to do the round trip all the time.”

“Really? When was the last time you visited?”

“Yesterday.”

“For what purpose?”

“Well—money, of course. It’s always money with these people. And they have so much that they don’t understand how it works.” Gaunt looked away briefly. “I can’t go into details. Let’s just say Mr. Leland wanted to withdraw a significant amount of money from one of his accounts, and it was my job to facilitate that.”

Laurence was aware of Pettifer tensing up beside him. He himself felt a thrill. All the other details they had were small and meaningless by themselves. They might have pointed toward Edward Leland beingconnectedin some way, but they were in no way conclusive. But this felt a little more solid. They had Christopher Shaw in possession of a stolen book he might wish to sell. And now they had a man withdrawing a large sum of money, with which—perhaps—to pay for it.

“What did Mr. Leland want the money for?”

“I don’t know. It’s not my job to ask things like that. All I know is that Mr. Leland is a valued client, and has been for many years, and that grants him certain privileges. It’s much easier when he sends one of his people here to us, but…” He glanced behind him at the office building for a second, then back at Laurence. “But I just do what I’m told. If he wants me to go there and arrange something, I go there and arrange it. That’s how it works.”

Laurence peered at him. Gaunt still seemed nervous, he thought. There was something else going on here that he was reluctant to reveal. Was it there in the glance he’d just given?

“You said Mr. Leland sometimes sends one of his people here?”

Gaunt started to look at the office again and didn’t quite stop himself in time.

Laurence smiled at him.

“Mr. Gaunt,” he said patiently. “A man is dead. Other lives are at stake. You are very busy. So let me be simple. Signal to me with blinks if you like—two for yes, one for no. Is one of Mr. Leland’s men here now?”

“No. But one was earlier.”

“Wishing to arrange more money for him?”

Gaunt shook his head.

“Like I told you, we’re in the process of managing Mr. Hobbes’s estate. There is a huge amount to deal with, and some of our existing clients are aware of potential sales. It’s only speculative at this point, of course, and it’s not strictly aboveboard. But these are valued clients. And it makes our lives easier to begin planning things now.”

“Go on.”

“Mr. Leland is interested in buying the house. He wanted to look around.”

Gaunt looked sicker than ever. It was as though he was sure, deep down in his bones, that he had done something wrong—something that went well beyond beingaboveboard—but couldn’t quite understand what.

“He wanted to borrow the key.”

Forty-three

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