“Oh?” Premonition touched Gervase’s nape, slid coolly down his spine. Unwilling to gossip with the stablelad, he nodded and strode swiftly up the shallow steps and through the open front door.
There was nothing odd about the open front door; most country houses, especially those with younger inhabitants, especially in summer, left their doors wide. What was odd was the absence of Milsom.
Gervase halted in the middle of the hall; voices-including Madeline’s-reached him.
He was too far away to make out the words; he followed the sound down the corridor to the office.
Milsom was standing just inside the door, his countenance a medley of shock, concern and helplessness.
Madeline was perched on the front edge of her desk, leaning toward her brothers-Harry and Edmond-both bolt upright in chairs facing her.
One look at her face-at the bleak fear therein-had Gervase striding into the room. “What’s happened?”
She looked up; for one instant he glimpsed relief, then her face, her expression, tightened. “Ben’s…” She gestured helplessly, plainly torn over what word to use. “Gone.”
The tremor, the underlying panic in her voice, shook him.
Harry had swung around; he met Gervase’s eyes as Gervase halted beside Madeline, taking her hand, holding it, not releasing it. “We don’t know what’s happened. Ben’s disappeared, and we don’t know where he is.” Anguish colored Harry’s eyes and voice.
Years of experience took over. Gervase dropped his other hand onto Harry’s shoulder, gripped. “Take a deep breath, then start at the beginning.”
Edmond’s eyes, too, were wide, his expression stricken.
Drawing in a huge breath, Harry held it for an instant, then said, “We rode to Helston midmorning. We thought we should check whether there’d been any more rumors about the tin mines. We went down to the Pig & Whistle-it’s the best place to learn things like that, and we knew we’d meet some of the other lads there, the ones who tell us things.”
Gervase nodded. “It’s a rough but useful place.” The Pig & Whistle was one of the taverns along the old Helston docks.
Relief washed through Harry’s eyes. “Exactly. But, of course, because it’s so rough we didn’t want to take Ben into the tap with us-and anyway, Old Henry, the innkeeper, doesn’t like ‘nippers’ brought in.”
“Perfectly understandable.” Madeline leaned forward, meeting first Harry’s, then Edmond’s eyes. “I don’t blame either of you in the least for leaving Ben outside.”
She’d had a moment-a moment Gervase’s arrival had granted her, his stalwart presence had allowed her-to assimilate what she’d learned. A minute to grasp the implications as well as the horror, and focus on what had to be done. Having Harry and Edmond sinking under unnecessary guilt was the last thing she needed.
“So you left Ben outside,” Gervase said. “Where, exactly?”
“He was sitting on the bench along the front of the tavern when we went in,” Edmond said. “He was happy as a grig, swinging his legs and watching the boats on the river. He didn’t want to come inside-he doesn’t like the smoke and the smells.” Edmond’s voice quavered. “That was the last we saw of him.”
Harry swallowed, nodded. “When we came out, he was nowhere in sight.”
“How long were you in the tavern?” Gervase asked.
Harry and Edmond exchanged glances. “Half an hour?” Harry looked up at Gervase. “Forty minutes at most. We came out with Tom Pachel and Johnny Griggs, and Ben was gone.”
“We searched-all four of us,” Edmond said. “The others helped when they realized we were worried.”
“The more we searched, still others joined in.” Harry took up the tale. “We covered the entire docks, but there was no sign of Ben anywhere. That’s when Abel-Johnny had fetched him-said we should ride home while the rest of them kept looking.” Harry glanced at Madeline. “Abel said we should find you and tell you.”
She gave mute thanks for Abel Griggs. She glanced at Gervase. “They arrived only a few minutes before you.”
He nodded.
She tensed to rise from the desk, but through his hold on her hand Gervase halted her. He met her gaze briefly, then turned again to the boys. “Through all the searching, did anyone say anything at all about seeing Ben wander off, or seeing someone approach him, speak with him-anything like that?”
Harry glanced at Edmond, then looked at Gervase. “Old Eddie was the only one who said he saw Ben, but, well”-Harry grimaced-“you know Old Eddie. You can’t trust anything he says after midday, and he was well away by the time we talked to him.”
Old Eddie was one of the town drunks.
“Never mind his state,” Gervase said. “Tell me what he said.”
“He said a flash cove came up to the bench and spoke with Ben, not just a hello-they had a conversation. Eddie said it was all sunny and happy as you please. And then Ben upped and went off with the man.”
Gervase frowned. “A flash cove? Eddie used those words?”
Harry nodded. “I suppose he meant a flashily dressed gentleman.”
Gervase didn’t reply; Madeline glanced at him in time to see the muscle in his jaw clench. Glancing sideways, he met her eyes, hesitated as if he wanted to explain, then he shook his head infinitesimally and turned back to Harry and Edmond. “No other sighting, nothing at all?”
Harry shook his head.
Edmond wriggled. “Mrs. Heggarty said she saw a man and a boy walking up her street-the one past Coinagehall Street-but she couldn’t say if it was Ben or not. She’s blind as a bat, so it could have been anyone. She couldn’t say anything about the man.”
Madeline had heard enough. She looked at Milsom, waiting by the door, opened her mouth to ask for Artur to be saddled-only to hear Gervase say, “Before we go haring back to Helston there’s things we should do- arrangements which will make finding Ben easier, quicker and more certain.”
She glanced at him, saw the seriousness in his eyes. “What arrangements?”
Gervase drew breath, swiftly reviewing the list that had formed in his head. He didn’t want to tell Madeline, let alone Harry and Edmond, what a ‘flash cove’ was. Old Eddie had been a London gentleman’s gentleman until he’d become too fond of the bottle; to Eddie, as to Gervase and anyone with knowledge of London’s underworld, a ‘flash cove’ meant a swindler or trickster usually based in London who made a living by leading others astray-usually into the clutches of some more powerful and nasty villain.
No matter how inebriated Old Eddie had been, if he’d said a flash cove, that was what he’d meant. But what such a person was doing in Helston, let alone why he’d approached Ben…despite all the possibilities, instinct screamed that Ben’s disappearance had something to do with the other inexplicable thing that had recently come into his young life. The brooch.
Gervase met Madeline’s eyes. “We need to assemble a search party, one big enough to scour the town more or less in one fell swoop. You need to gather the men on the estate, all those you can mount. Also send a note in my name to Sitwell at the castle asking him to do the same with my people and send them to Helston to wait for us there.” He paused, thinking, then nodded. “That should give us enough men.”
Madeline blinked, then nodded; rising from the desk, she moved around it to her chair. She frowned. “Should we-”
He held up a hand. “While you write those notes, I’ll send one of your grooms to Falmouth. I was there earlier today and ran into a friend-another member of my club-Charles St. Austell, Earl of Lostwithiel. I’ll ask Charles to do two things. First, to talk to the mayor and the governor of Pendennis Castle and get a roadblock set up on the London road.” When alarm crossed her face, he forced a reassuring smile. “A precaution. Let’s hope there’s no need for it, but it won’t hurt to have that in place just in case.”
That he was considering “just in case” seemed to calm her; she nodded and sank into her chair.
He held her gaze. “The other thing I’m going to ask is for Charles to meet us in Helston. He has his dogs, two wolfhounds, with him, and I recall him mentioning that they’re excellent trackers.”
And Penny would accompany Charles; nothing was more likely. Gervase hoped the arrival of another lady of similar standing would help distract Madeline, and stop her from imagining the worst.
He was able to imagine far worse scenarios than she, but he knew it was pointless and likely self-defeating. Neither he nor she could afford to allow panic to deflect them, not if they wanted Ben back, safe.
To her, he said, “I’ll leave you to write those notes.” Then he looked at Harry and Edmond. “I’ll need a groom to take my message to Falmouth-you two can help me with that.”
