“If it were a colleague,” Helen said, sitting forward, “would he not want the original scroll and not a simple copy?”
“Yes, you are right, of course,” said Lord Hobbs, and the look he fastened on her held far too much admiration for Lord Beecham’s taste. Lord Hobbs turned his formidable attention back to him again. Lord Beecham said, “What is most likely is that some people believe the scroll the key to finding a vast treasure. Is this true? None of us has any idea if it is or not.”
Lord Hobbs studied his long fingers, the short, well-buffed nails, then he looked at Miss Mayberry. “Ma’am, where did you find this scroll?”
“In a cave right on the beach.”
“I see. You have no idea why it was there? No idea what the scroll might contain?”
“None. It is written in an ancient language that I could not read.”
“And that was why I was working with Reverend Mathers,” Lord Beecham said.
“I see,” Lord Hobbs said again. “You will give me names of men who you believe wanted to know more about this scroll, Lord Beecham.”
“I know of only two names, sir. Reverend Titus Older and Jason Fleming, Lord Crowley.”
To everyone’s surprise, Lord Hobbs cursed very quietly under his breath. He saw Lord Beecham’s raised eyebrow and said, “Reverend Older is probably sunk in debt again. Curse the man, I will have to find out just how deep a hole he finds himself in this time. And Lord Crowley, not a good man, my lord. A very bad man, if one were to believe just some of the gossip about him.”
“I would imagine,” Douglas said, “that at least eight out of ten of the stories told about him are the truth. Some three years ago, Lord Crowley tried to swindle a consortium put together to build a canal up near York.”
“What happened, my lord?”
“When I discovered he was lurking in the shadows, I immediately investigated. I myself had some five thousand pounds invested. I did not want to lose it.”
“You unmasked him?”
Douglas nodded. “He managed to escape blame. Everyone knew what he had done, but the proof conveniently disappeared. One member of the consortium ended up dead, supposedly suicide, but we all doubted that it was. Again, there was no proof that Crowley was the murderer. You are right, Lord Hobbs, he is a very bad man. He also bears grudges.”
“One is toward you?”
“Oh, yes. Some four years ago, he wanted to marry my sister, but she, a very smart girl, simply told him that he was much too old for her, and that he gambled. She would never marry a man who gambled. He wasn’t happy with this outcome. I heard it said that Crowley decided that no female could speak her mind like that, and thus he believed that I had put the words in her mouth and, fortunately, blamed me and not Sinjun, my sister.”
Lord Beecham said, “He is forever in need of money. He has buried two wives, both of whom brought him sizable dowries.”
“Do you believe he killed his wives?” Lord Hobbs asked.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Douglas said. “His luck at cards is rotten, not at all a surprise, given that he has the gambling fever. He cannot make himself stop.”
“Yes,” said Lord Beecham, “he is always convinced that his luck will change with the turn of the next card.”
Lord Hobbs rose and began to pace the length of the lovely Aubusson carpet. “So it is possible that both of these gentlemen could believe that the scroll is the key to vast wealth?”
Everyone nodded.
“I hesitate to believe that Reverend Older could stab a man in the back. He is a man of God no matter his lapses.”
Douglas said, “Man of God or not, I have put one of my footmen to follow Reverend Older. Lord Beecham has done so as well. We will also have Crowley followed.”
Lord Hobbs nodded. “That is very wise. I will assign one of my canniest runners to this case. He can work with your men, direct them, if you will. Solving this case is vital. It doesn’t look good for a man of the church to be murdered in the British Museum. Mr. Ezra Cave will come to introduce himself to you so you will know who he is. I bid you good day.” He stopped to stand directly in front of Helen. “I hope to see you again, Miss Mayberry.” That cold, deep voice of his had miraculously turned as warm as a mild spring day, Lord Beecham thought—the poaching bastard. “Are you currently residing in London?”
Helen, distracted, merely shook her head, saying, “No, I am just here to see Lord Beecham.”
“I would like to hear more about your discovery of the scroll. May I call u
pon you?”
That got Helen’s attention. “I don’t know where I will be, my lord.”