Page 52 of A Ruse of Shadows
Charlotte held it up. “Imagine my surprise when I saw MissFerguson sporting an ornament made of small loops of hair just like this two nights ago, when I first laid eyes on her.”
Mumble turned and looked directly at Charlotte. “Thank you for not saying anything at the time. Johnny isn’t involved in this—nor does he have any need to be. Jessie and I were looking for Mr. Underwood, not he.”
Charlotte inclined her head in acknowledgment of his expression of gratitude. “I believe that Mr. Esposito is not involved in your efforts. However, you and Miss Ferguson, you last saw Mr. Underwood in autumn. Your stipend ran out this April. Yet you sought him not last year, nor in April.
“You visited both his mistress’s villa and his accountant’s office toward the beginning of the week—and you were at his mistress’s new place even more recently, if certain reports are to be believed. I’m curious as to why you’ve been so interested in Mr. Underwood of late.”
The apprentice took a pencil, leveled the ruler with the top of the new sheet of vellum, and began to mark a row of equidistant dots. “I could ask the same of you, Mr. Herrinmore. The party that engaged you, the one who was so interested in Mr. Underwood’s welfare, why did that person wait until now to act?”
“That person has been and remains in considerable difficulty. Communication between them had been sporadic for some time. It was only lately that Mr. Underwood’s lady was able to convey the news that he was missing.”
Mumble, now marking dots on the bottom of the vellum, glanced up, his gaze dark and unreadable. “And why did Mr. Underwood’s lady wait so long to do that conveying?”
Sharp boy. “She claimed that although she hadn’t seen him in six weeks, communications from him did not cease altogether until slightly less than three weeks ago. And he was, until then, most reliable at dispatching news of his well-being.”
Charlotte took off the spectacles she wore for the role and polished them with her handkerchief. “That’s my reason for not inquiringinto his disappearance earlier. What about you? What has made you into an ardent housebreaker these last few days?”
Mumble began to connect the dots on the vellum, dividing it into thin segments. “Mr. Herrinmore, I am Roma. What makes you think I would admit to any charges that might get me dragged to the nearest police station to answer questions?”
His reaction was not unanticipated. “Let’s find some less sensitive topics of discussion then. I was given the addresses to those two places in St. John’s Wood. How do you know about them?”
“Maybe Mr. Underwood told me about them.”
“Even the second one, which was acquired long after he disappeared from view?”
“Sponsors have mysterious ways.”
He was neither nervous nor hostile but simply less than forthcoming—Charlotte suspected that he would have been even less cooperative had she not found that loop of hair from Jessie’s ornament. She tried a different tack. “Have you ever seen his mistress?”
Mumble lifted the vellum and began cutting along the lines he had drawn. “I once saw a hackney stop in front of Johnny’s place. The cabbie accepted a large basket from the passenger and carried it to Johnny’s front door. By the time someone answered the door, the carriage was already driving away, but I happened to be standing near the window and saw a woman look out from the carriage.”
“What did she look like?”
“Dark hair. Good-looking. In her thirties.”
Charlotte nodded. “What are the vellum ribbons you’re cutting for?”
“To use as lacing to strengthen a large book’s spine.”
“And were you and Miss Ferguson at or near Pettifer’s Hotel yesterday afternoon?”
“We passed in front of it. The hotel recently began to acquire bread from the tea shop where Jessie works. Since we were already out and about, she wanted to show me the fancy place that is now serving bread she helped to bake.”
“And afterwards, did you go back to either of the mistress’s places again?”
“I shall not dignify that with an answer, Mr. Herrinmore.”
“Very well, Mr. Waters.” Charlotte set her spectacles back on her nose. “I’ll leave you to your work and show myself out.”
He rose. “I’ll need to latch the door after you.”
As he opened the front door to let her out, he said, “I still don’t believe you, Mr. Herrinmore. You are not who you say you are. And I very much doubt that the one who sent you is in fact a friend of Mr. Underwood’s.”
Charlotte looked back. “That is an odd sentiment to express, Mr. Waters. Areyousearching for Mr. Underwood as a friend?”
Mumble blinked.
Charlotte marched away.
