Page 56 of The Murder of Thomas Cardwell
Barnaby shared a smirking glance with Penelope, then they drew up chairs and sat in a half circle before the desk, while Thomas resumed his seat behind it.
“So”—Thomas leaned back and folded his hands across his waistcoat—“what is this challenge?”
Stokes ran through the details of the murder and how that had led them to the gun-running scheme and Chesterton, then Montague took over and explained what they’d discovered in Chesterton’s account book.
Barnaby concluded with “So now we need to identify the holders of those three crediting accounts.”
Thomas nodded. “That should certainly be possible. Forbes is the manager we need to see at Moreton’s. He’ll be easy enough to convince”—Thomas dipped his head toward Stokes—“especially with Scotland Yard’s finest making their presence felt.”
Stokes dryly replied, “I’ll do my best to loom large.”
Thomas and Montague laughed, then Thomas rose, and the others did, too, and he waved them to the door. “No time like the present. New Union is just around the corner in Leadenhall Street.”
They walked out of Thomas’s office, and Thomas stopped to have a word with the helpful Minns before following the others out of the main office, down the stairs, and onto the street.
On the pavement, the company reorganized, then with Montague and Thomas in the lead, set off, striding along. At the end of the short street, they turned south on Bishopsgate, then at the next intersection, walked west along Leadenhall Street.
Penelope had taken Barnaby’s arm and was walking behind Thomas and Montague. Bringing up the rear with Stokes, Jordan paced behind her.
As they made their way along Leadenhall, Jordan leaned forward and murmured to Penelope, “Even though I’ve only just met him, Glendower reminds me strongly of Roscoe.”
Penelope arched her brows. She was rather intrigued that Jordan had so quickly detected the very real similarity betweenthe two men. Not many would have noticed the subtle signs of their birthright that, despite their long years out of society, both Roscoe and Thomas still carried.
She glanced fleetingly at Jordan, then smiling to herself, whispered back, “Your instincts are sound. There is a definite commonality and, indeed, on more than one plane.”
Jordan frowned faintly, but she offered no further explanation of her enigmatic comment, and as they were nearing the New Union Bank, there was no time for him to press her for more.
With expectation building, on Barnaby’s arm, Penelope followed Thomas and Montague through the impressively polished doors of the New Union Bank.
Inside, the recently refurbished black-and-white-tiled foyer was abuzz with people queuing to speak with the cashiers stationed behind their long counter. Every piece of wood in sight was richly finished, and every sliver of brass was polished to a gleam. The New Union Bank was clearly intent on projecting the image of a successful and trustworthy repository of customers’ money, and the subtle hum of commerce filled the air.
Apparently unimpressed, Montague and Thomas drew their party to one side of the foyer, close to one wall, where two large palms in brass pots gave an illusion of privacy.
In response to Penelope’s questioning look, Thomas replied, “Now we wait.”
She wondered for what, but before she asked, a dapperly dressed man came hurrying out of a discreet door at the rear of the foyer. From his pomaded hair to the starched stiffness of his collar and the excellent cut of his suit, he was plainly a higher-level employee.
The man made straight for their party—or rather, with an ingratiating smile affixed to his face, he hurried to present himself before Thomas and Montague. On reaching them, hehalted and bowed. “Mr. Glendower, sir. And Mr. Montague!” The man smiled hopefully. “To what does Moreton’s owe the pleasure of your presence?”
Penelope noticed that Jordan, standing beside her, was struggling to hide a too-revealing grin.
“As to that, Forbes”—Thomas waved to include the rest of them—“we are here on a legal matter.”
“I see.” Forbes’s gaze drifted over Barnaby and Penelope, but then fixed on Stokes, and his manner grew wary.
Noting the change, Thomas explained, “We need to identify three account holders.”
His tone a touch supercilious, Montague added, “It seems they’ve been involved in a quite dastardly—indeed, one might even say treasonous—crime.”
“Good heavens!” Forbes darted glances at Penelope, Barnaby, and Jordan, clearly wondering about their roles in the matter. “Well, of course,” he somewhat hesitantly said, “if it’s in my power…”
“Oh, it definitely is,” Thomas informed him.
“If it weren’t,” Montague added, “we would hardly be here, wasting our time as well as yours.”
Forbes flushed. “No, of course not. I…that is…” He glanced at the crowd in the foyer, then stepped aside and waved their group to the door through which he’d entered. “Please, come through to my office. You can show me the details, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Penelope was the first through the door and found herself in an even more opulent foyer. Unsure which way to go, she paused to one side of the space. She’d noted that Jordan was paying close, indeed, rapt attention to every aspect of Thomas’s and Montague’s actions. When Barnaby and Jordan joined her, as Forbes was bringing up the rear and was still in the outer foyer, she seized the moment to whisper to Jordan, “Taking notes?”
