Patience nodded. She opened her mouth-
The door swung open and the Runners returned.
One glance at their triumphant expression, and Patience's premonition returned with a vengeance. Her heart stopped, chilled, then sank. Vane's grip on her fingers tightened; she curled her fingers and clung.
Carrying a small sack, the senior Runner advanced portentously on Minnie-then spilled the contents of the sack onto the table before her. "Can you identify these baubles, ma'am?"
The baubles included Minnie's pearls. They also included everything else that had gone missing.
"My comb!" Gleefully, Angela swooped down and plucked the gaudy trinket free.
"Dear me-there's my pincushion." Edith Swithins poked it aside.
The items were nudged apart-Timms's bracelet, the pearls and their matching earrings, Patience's bud vase. Everything was there-except-
"Only one." Agatha Chadwick looked down at the garnet drop earring she'd separated from the pile.
Everyone looked again. The Runner upended the sack, then peered into it. He shook his head. "Nothing here. And there wasn't any goods left lying in the drawer."
"Which drawer?" Patience asked.
The Runner glanced over his shoulder-to where his comrades had taken up position one on either side of Gerrard's chair. "The drawer of the bureau ih what I 'ave been told is Mister Gerrard Debbington's bedchamber. Which bedchamber he has on his own, not sharing with anyone else."
The Runner made that last sound like a crime in itself. Her heart constricted, sunk to her slippers, Patience looked at Gerrard. And she saw he was struggling not to laugh.
Patience stiffened; Vane pinched her fingers.
"You'll a-have to come along of us, young gent." The Runner advanced on Gerrard. "There's some serious questions the magistrate'll have for you. You come along nice and quiet, and we won't have no fuss."
"Oh, indeed. No fuss."
Patience heard the suppressed laughter in Gerrard's voice as he obligingly stood-how could he be so flippant? She wanted to shake him.
Vane shook her-her hand, at any rate. She glanced at him; he frowned at her and shook his head fractionally.
"Trust me."
The words reached her on a whisper, a mere thread of sound.
Patience looked into his eyes, calmly grey-then she looked at Gerrard, her young brother, light of her life. Drawing in a steadying breath, she glanced back at Vane and almost imperceptibly nodded. If Gerrard could trust Vane, and play out his alloted role, how much more reason had she to place her trust in him.
"What's the charge?" Vane asked, as the Runners formed up around Gerrard.
"No charge as yet," the senior Runner replied. "That's up to the magistrate, that is. We just lay the evidence before him and see what he thinks."
Vane nodded. Patience saw the glance he exchanged with Gerrard.
"Right then." Gerrard grinned. "Which round house is it to be? Or do we go directly to Bow Street?"
Bow Street it was. Patience had to bite her lip to stop herself from intervening, or begging to go, too. Sligo, she noticed, at a nod from Vane, slid out in the Runners' wake. All the rest of the household remained in the dining room until the front door clanged shut behind the Runners and their charge.
For one instant, the tension held, then a sigh ran through the room.
Patience stiffened. Vane turned to her.
"I said it again and again, but you would pay no heed, Miss Debbington." Righteously patronizing, Whitticombe shook his head. "And now it's come to this. Perhaps, in future, you will take more note of those with more years in their cup than yourself."
"Hear, hear," came from the General. "Said it from the first. Boys' tricks." He frowned at Patience.