“There was no misunderstanding!” she insisted. “This whole story is false! I don’t know why he added my name, but I would never write such drivel!” With that, she flung the offending paper across the room.
By now, the entire office had fallen silent and still, watching their exchange. At the paper’s flight across the crowded newsroom, a collective gasp arose. The pages sailed through the air, lazily drifting throughout the office.
Arthur watched its progress with mild bewilderment, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Not a sound could be heard save the settling of falling pages, coming to rest on the surfaces of desks, files cabinets, the floor.
“These are grave accusations indeed, Miss Stewart. Most unprecedented. Yes, most unprecedented.” The caterpillars on his forehead danced for a moment, then settled as he came to a decision. “But I can’t print a retraction until I hear Mr. Huxton’s side of the story. No,” he said, holding up his hand and cutting her off as she began to protest. “Clive deserves his say in this matter.”
He looked around the office again, taking in his staff, most standing with their mouths agape, and the strewn pages of newspaper. “Most unprecedented,” he muttered again.
Genevieve knew this was as good as it was going to get. She would simply have to find Daniel and explain somehow. Explain that although she hadn’t shared his confidences, somehow they had been printed in the paper for which she wrote.
“Though the authorities may find Mr. McCaffrey sooner rather than later,” Arthur said regretfully, starting for the door. “They are most anxious to find out what has become of the Maple diamonds.”
Genevieve was sure she hadn’t heard correctly. “The Maple diamonds?” she repeated, starting after her employer again. She hadn’t thought the theft was public knowledge yet. “What do you mean?”
“The Maple diamonds were stolen after the Porters’ costume ball. Look, it’s printed here.” Luther was suddenly there, his face concerned. He turned a copy of the front page over, and under the fold was a continuation of the story she hadn’t seen in her initial upset over the headline.
FAMED MAPLE DIAMONDS TAKEN! THE GLOBE AWAITS LETTER FROM ROBIN HOOD.
Quickly skimming the rest, Genevieve learned there had been no letter yet to the newspaper from Robin Hood, claiming responsibility for the theft, but the clear implication was that this was just another in the thief’s long string of attacks on the city’s wealthy.
Genevieve’s mouth dried in renewed horror, even as tears pricked her eyes. She could not possibly imagine a worse scenario. Then it occurred to her, a thought so liberating she nearly laughed aloud for the joy of it.
Of course. Daniel was not the thief, and she could prove it.
Her editor was waiting at the creaky elevator doors, impatiently checking his pocket watch. Luther put a gentle hand on her arm, but she shook him off with impatience.
“Mr. Horace!” she cried. For the second time in ten minutes, Genevieve sped across the newsroom floor, dashing for her employer before he was swept away in the elevator.
Arthur looked distinctly alarmed at her rapid progress. The rest of the staff, who had resumed their usual bustle in the wake of her previous outburst, once again paused to watch whatever new spectacle was about to unfold.
“Wait, Mr. Horace! Mr. McCaffrey is not Robin Hood! He did not steal the Maple diamonds, please!” she protested, this time grabbing the older man’s hand as he tried to quickly wedge himself into the opening elevator doors.
“Miss Stewart, this is unprecedented!” sputtered Arthur again, wildly looking around for help. Not a soul moved.
“But it’s not true! He couldn’t have stolen the diamonds, don’t you see? They were taken at, what time?” Now it was Genevieve’s turn to look around wildly, hoping someone nearby knew the answer.
“They were reported missing at four in the morning.” It was Luther, who had rushed after her and was hovering anxiously.
“Four AM!” Genevieve cried triumphantly, turning back to Arthur and renewing her grip on his hand, which had begun to slacken. Arthur looked woeful as the elevator doors wheezed shut again, leaving him stranded.
“Nobody saw Mr. McCaffrey after about two in the morning, according to Mr. Huxton’s report,” Luther cautiously noted. He looked as though he knew how this would end and didn’t like it. “Genevieve, let’s go talk privately—”
“Yes,” Arthur interrupted. “The theory is he was stealing the jewels from the Maple townhouse between three and four AM. It’s all in Clive’s article, and we’ll discuss it tomorrow. Really, Genevieve, I must go see to the evening edition …” Arthur strained for the elevator, pushing the down button with his free hand.
“No, no, Mr. Horace, he wasn’t anywhere near the Maple townhouse at that time. And I have proof.” She gripped Arthur’s hand fervently, willing him to believe her.
This stopped Arthur’s straining. “Proof?” he asked cautiously. The color drained from Luther’s face, and he shook his head at Genevieve sadly. A sudden look of realization hit Arthur’s visage.
The caterpillars snapped together. “Come to my office, Miss Stewart.”
Arthur barked orders about the evening edition at his two assistant editors as he led Genevieve toward his office. Otherwise the room was so quiet one could hear pigeons cooing on the windowsills outside. Once behind the glass door, Arthur snapped the blinds shut and wearily slumped into his chair.
“Out with it, Miss Stewart.”
She steeled her courage, hoping what she was about to say wouldn’t cost her her job. “Between two and five thirty AM on Sunday morning, Mr. McCaffrey was with me. In hotel room three sixteen.” The caterpillars gave one brief, resigned wiggle, then settled again. “I’m sure the hotel staff can confirm the hiring of the room.”
Butterflies coursed through her stomach, and she felt her face burn bright red. She swallowed, awaiting her fate. There was no use explaining that all they had done was talk. She, an unmarried young woman, had just admitted to her employer that
