The Vanishing Thief(16)

“Why?” Sir Broderick barked, and for an instant I expected to see him leap from his chair. Then I blinked and realized I was seeing him as he’d been the day I ran to him for help rescuing my parents. Seeing the man who’d put Sir Broderick in his wheeled chair was affecting my thoughts. I needed to tell Sir Broderick I’d found the killer—and admit I’d lost him again.

Hancock jumped when Sir Broderick spoke, but he recovered quickly and said loudly, “The man has been pursuing my ward, and any time they spend apart is welcome.”

Sir Broderick said, “No need to shout. My ears work well. Do you believe Mr. Drake left because he wanted to avoid a closer friendship with your ward?”

Lord Hancock flushed. “No. I believe he left because his crimes have come to light, making his life in London unbearable. Mr. Drake is a thief.”

“Is this your opinion or is this common knowledge?” Fogarty, who paced through our meetings like a caged animal, his limp more pronounced in bad weather, was now standing to the side of the fireplace.

“In the last week, several of us who’ve lost items of value to a skilled thief realized the common denominator was Drake. We were gathering information to confront him when he disappeared. Needless to say, my ward knows nothing about this, and I’d prefer to preserve her delicate feelings by preventing her from discovering that someone she thought a friend was truly reprehensible.”

“Did Mr. Drake know you suspected him?”

“I don’t know. We tried to ask questions discreetly.”

Uneasiness crept up the back of my neck. “Was the Duke of Blackford someone you discussed this with?”

Hancock swung around at my question. “Yes. He’s been more upset than most. An item he lost belonged to someone he loved who has died.”

“Why don’t you want us to investigate, my lord? We could be of great assistance, and we are very discreet,” Fogarty said.

“He’s probably already fenced the jewelry he stole, and I don’t want him back in society spending time with my ward. We’d all be better off if he stayed in Brighton or wherever he’s gone.”

“Who is your ward?” Mrs. Atterby asked.

“Daisy Hancock, my late brother’s daughter. He and his wife died on her eleventh birthday. She’s out in society now. I’ve grown quite fond of her over the years.”

I decided to chance learning the names of the other victims. “Who was in this group besides you, the Duke of Blackford, and the Duke of Merville?”

“The Earl of Waxpool and Lord Dutton-Cox. If Drake’s stolen from others, they don’t belong to our club.”

“And you propose that the five of you handle this matter rather than the police or the Archivist Society?” Sir Broderick stared at the man from under hooded eyes, his large hands gripping the wheels of his chair.

“The police believe he’s in Brighton. They also understand five peers don’t want them looking into the situation. I hope you show the same wisdom.”

“I doubt Mr. Drake would find such a course of action wise. Good evening.” Sir Broderick swung away to face the fireplace.

Hancock glanced around the room before his shoulders drooped. When none of us looked him in the eye, he said, “Good night.” His footsteps were slow and heavy going down the stairs.

Once the door had been shut and Jacob had returned, Emma said, “Have we ever been thrown off a case twice in one night by two people who’ve not hired us?”

“No. You’ve brought us quite a little puzzle, Georgia,” Sir Broderick said.

“The duke told me he thought Drake stole from him. Now we know some others to investigate in his disappearance.” I looked at Sir Broderick. “If we take the case on, of course.”

Sir Broderick glanced at Frances and Adam, and they both nodded. “It’s time you headed an investigation.”

I was glad I was sitting. Otherwise I’d probably have fallen over. “I’ve never led an investigation before. You’ve always told me what questions to follow, Sir Broderick. I won’t know what to do.”

“You’ll figure it out. And we’ll be there to help you,” Adam Fogarty said as he paced his way to the door.

Doubts and objections filled my mind. “We don’t have a reliable client.”

“Yes, we do. Drake himself. Don’t you think he’d like to be found?” Frances asked.

“Well, yes, of course, but—”

“No buts. We’re going to find Nicholas Drake. Or rather, you will. Don’t you find it intriguing that we’ve heard from so many people who don’t want him found?” Sir Broderick smiled at me.