Page 60 of A Murder in Mayfair
Steele frowned. “That tracks with what I learned at White’s. Danforth, and Finch as well, revealed that much.”
“Do you think Walsh spearheaded the entire scheme?”
“Card cheating, he could manage by himself. But this silver mine scheme was a more complicated affair. A plan had to be devised—where the mine was located, how much money would need to be invested, and arrange for an office to collect correspondence and receive visitors. Walsh did not strike me as a man who could manage something of that magnitude.”
“Perhaps he was just the front man,” I suggested. “Someone else may have been pulling the strings. One name was mentioned at the tea—an American widow. Mrs. Greystone. She was seen leaving Walsh House at a very late hour. Have you heard of her?”
He nodded slowly. “Quite wealthy. Though the origins of that wealth are entirely speculative. No one seems to know who Mr. Greystone was.”
“And yet she maintains an extravagant lifestyle and lives in an opulent Mayfair townhouse.”
His expression didn’t shift so much as tighten, like a violin string drawn taut.
“I’ve just finished combing through Walsh’s ledgers,” he said. “The ones you had delivered to me.”
“And?” I prompted.
“There are regular payments from several men. Some greater than others—Danforth, Finch, and Elston among them.” He ticked them off on long fingers. “Substantial sums. Repeated over several months. If anyone had reason to silence Walsh, it’s those three.”
“So they invested in a silver mine that doesn’t exist?”
“It appears so.”
“But why such large sums?”
“Greed. I suspect Walsh promised an absurd return. All fabrication.”
“And the money?”
“Drafts were made out to the Trust. Walsh deposited them into a bank account under the trust’s name.”
“The one I discovered?”
“No. Another one. It appears legitimate.”
“Is that reflected in the ledgers?”
He nodded. “To the tune of over fifty thousand pounds.”
“Good heavens.”
“Indeed.”
“But there’s another bank account somewhere that matches the note I found?” I asked.
“It appears so.”
“Which bank? And what was its purpose?”
“I have my business manager working on it. Should find out soon. One thing of note, however. Mrs. Greystone’s name is notably absent from the accounting books. Not a single mention. No payments. No receipts. Not even a hint.”
I frowned. “And yet her name came up at the afternoon tea. Is she involved?”
“Maybe she was too clever to leave a trace. Which leads me to wonder?—”
I picked it up. “Could she be the mastermind?”
He nodded once. “A well-connected widow with charm, influence, and discretion? Who would suspect her of double-dealing?”
