There were sounds across the stable and a lantern light appeared. Two figures appeared, with Tombstone leading the way and Pascal following behind, leaning on his cane. His eyes shot to Gwynnie and Emlyn in the corner.
“Good evening to you, sir,” Emlyn said in her usual tone, lifting her hat so that her face was fully visible.
Pascal pursed his lips but said nothing.
“See for yourself.” Tombstone gestured to the grave.
When Pascal didn’t move, and seeing that Tombstone was reluctant to touch the corpse another time, Gwynnie stood up. She climbed back into the grave and pulled the cloth from Woodville’s face, covering her mouth and nose to try and block out some of the stench.
Pascal inhaled deeply. The silence stretched out before he nodded at Gwynnie, and she replaced the cloth.
“You need to trust me,” Tombstone pleaded with Pascal. “Everything I have told you is the truth.”
“Even if it is true,” Pascal croaked, “how do we prove it? How do we capture Renard as you wish to?”
Tombstone glanced at Gwynnie, nodding for her to speak.
“You wish me to listen to a maid?” Pascal gawped in sudden anger. “The word of a maid is what you’re going on here?”
“Or the word of a thief,” Gwynnie said, climbing out of the grave and moving toward him. “From where you are, sir, I’d say you do not have many other options.”
CHAPTER 29
“This will work, trust me,” Gwynnie told Tombstone. She was dressed in a footman’s uniform again, carrying a tray with a flagon of mead and two goblets upon it. The sunlight streaming through the window of Tombstone’s office glinted off the silver tray.
“Trust a thief, eh?” Tombstone said, adjusting the laces of his doublet as he turned to face the looking glass above the fireplace.
“Sounds like a wise idea, does it not?” Gwynnie asked, catching his eye in the mirror. He paused momentarily with his laces, before continuing. “Speaking of wise ideas,” she went on, “if this works, what do you plan to do next?”
“About what?”
“About my mother and I.”
He turned and lifted the flagon of mead, pouring it into the two goblets. His eyes never once met hers.
“Will you arrest us?”
“I investigate crimes,” he said simply. “What do you wish me to do? Allow a killer to walk free?”
Gwynnie stiffened. He had not mentioned the thefts, nor her. He was plainly referring to her mother alone.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor.
“He comes,” Tombstone said.
Gwynnie adjusted her hat and moved to the side of the room, still carrying the tray, as Tombstone crossed to his desk. A light knock sounded at the door.
“Come!” Tombstone called. The door opened and a familiar figure walked in.
It was Renard, his face more haggard and tired than when Gwynnie had seen it last. She presumed he was suffering some sleepless nights now he could no longer find Gwynnie. He didn’t even glance her way as he stepped into the room.
“You sent for me,” Renard said, his accent thick. “I do not have time to discuss matters with a man who no longer has his position. I need to do what you could not and find those two women.”
“It is them I wished to speak to you about. Please.” Tombstone gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “I only wish to help at this time.”
Renard seemed to weigh up his options. Eventually, he closed the door behind him and went to sit down.
Gwynnie stepped forward and placed the two goblets on the desk, alongside the flagon of mead.
“Thank you.” Tombstone gave a curt wave, the signal for her to leave. Gwynnie stepped out of the room, closed the door, then pressed her ear to the wood, listening intently to the rest of their conversation.
“What is it you wish to say?” asked Renard.
“I have found them.”
“What?”
“I have found Mistress Wightham and her daughter, but there is a problem.” Tombstone paused. “Pascal does not believe me. Alone, I cannot bring them in.”
“Not strong enough to defeat a couple of maids, eh?” Renard sneered.
“They have evaded your capture for long enough, have they not?” Tombstone reminded him. “I wish you to help me bring them in.”
“Why?”
“If I can be of use, then there’s a chance I will get my position back.”
“Self-gain. Now I understand you.” Renard’s voice steadied, as if he was more ready to believe the claim than before. “Where are they?”
