The Wrong Girl(62)

"Why would he want a tour?" I asked. "Jack came here to confront you over the theft of Mr. Langley's papers. Do you deny you stole them?"

"No."

"So you admit it!" Sylvia scowled. "Then why hasn't Jack had you arrested?"

"Because we had a very profound discussion, and he no longer believed involving the police was necessary. Shall I tell you what I told him?"

I desperately wanted to say yes. I suspected the things he'd said to Jack were tightly interwoven with my own burning questions about how Tate and Langley knew me. But Sylvia was right. We needed to ensure Jack was safe first. Afterward, I would seek out the answers.

"We'd like to see him," I said.

"Let him be, ladies. A lad like Jack needs time away from women and prattle once in a while. There can't be much for him at Frakingham with only you two and that cripple for company."

The one-armed man was calling the wheelchair-bound man a cripple? If my sense of humor hadn't been leached out of me by Tate's odd declarations, I would have laughed out loud.

"Our conversations are quite lively, thank you very much," Sylvia said with a sniff.

Tate pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and dabbed his forehead, but the shine remained. "Tell me, Miss Langley, does your uncle still have that silent ogre hovering about? I remember when he first came to work for August."

"Bollard? Yes, why?"

His lips flattened and he carefully re-folded his handkerchief on his knee. "He's not what he seems, you know. He's...devious. Watch him, Miss Langley. Watch him very closely. That's my advice to you."

I was beginning to think Tate would win if there were a Mad Scientist competition between him and Langley. No wonder they'd fallen out. Two such men in a confined space would be a formula for an explosive relationship.

"We'd like to see Jack," I demanded. "Immediately."

His lips flattened. "As you wish. But first, let me tell you what I told him. I'd like the chance to defend myself. What I'm about to tell you not only eased Jack's mind, it spurred his interest in what I'm doing here. Shall we talk as we walk to the factory?"

"I don't know," Sylvia said, chewing her lip.

"I'll also tell you how I know you, Miss Smith." He smiled at me in a way that could only be described as sweet. I was no longer sure how to take Tate. My instincts were confused. One moment he was all kindness, the next he was being odd and evasive. So I set instinct aside and used my head. I wanted answers, and if I needed to follow him to get them, I would. If there was a chance that Jack was there, we had to find out for sure.

"We'll come," I said, standing. Sylvia seemed relieved to have the decision made for her.

Tate rose and indicated we should walk ahead. "I'd better begin at the beginning. No doubt August told you that he and I fell out over money, and that I stole his papers so that I could reproduce his latest remedy and sell it. He always did pretend I was the greedy one, when in truth it was he all along."

"What do you mean?" I asked. We walked slowly out of the parlor and back into the entrance hall. An Oriental rug deadened the sound of our shoes on the tiles. It was a new rug, the pile still thick, and it ran the length of the narrow hall. Another rug covered the stairs, and it too looked new, as did the hat stand, table and framed mirror. The faint smell of paint hung in the air, but I could see no artworks. The walls must have been freshly painted.

"He has always wanted that which his betters had," Tate went on. "A grand house, horses, carriages, land. To him, those things meant status and respect, two things he desired more than any...well, more than the use of his legs." He paused at the front door. "You know this to be true, don't you, Miss Langley?"

Sylvia looked down at her feet. Her nod was slight, but noticeable.

"Your uncle was the one who wanted to sell the remedy for the most money we could get. I didn't want to sell it at all."

"I don't like you besmirching my uncle's name," Sylvia said.

"Then block your ears."

"What was the remedy for?" I asked.

"To combat an insidious disease," he said. "You wouldn't have heard of it."

I was beginning to get the feeling there was more to their remedy than they were telling us.

Tate held the door open, and we walked outside once again. The small front garden had little to recommend it. It was sparse and winter-bare, with only a few low-growing herbs planted in square beds, and several dormant roses spaced precisely apart along the fence. A stone path led to the side of the house and we followed it. "Your uncle may have wanted the money, but I wanted the glory of the discovery. See, we each have our weaknesses, Miss Langley, but I'm not afraid to reveal mine. I wanted to sell the rights to manufacture the drug to another company better equipped to do it, but keep control over its dissemination and packaging. August didn't care about that since few companies with deep pockets weren't interested in a deal that didn't give them total control. He won, of course. He usually did when we disagreed. I think you both know how...immovable he can be."