Contracts, she wondered as she began to peruse them.
“How long before he returns?” Bea asked, briefly lifting her gaze to observe his brows drawn in concentration. Suddenly they lightened and the door to the second cabinet gave way.
“Ten minutes,” he said tersely, pulling out a ledger. “It could be as many as fifteen, as Herbert will have to go slightly farther afield to find a tavern that is open on Sunday. Regardless, Mayhew will feel compelled to update us on his progress, so let us assume ten. I urge you to look quickly even though I am not sure what we are looking for.”
“Anything irregular,” she said as she flipped through one file after the other. They were all loan requests that had been denied by the bank. “I am confident we will know it when we see it. Something is off here and we will find it.”
Kesgrave laid a book on the table and said, “Well, it is not in here. This book contains a list of all the bank’s depositors and their assets.”
“I have loan applications,” she replied, thrusting the folders back into the cabinet and pulling out a ledger. She opened it to the first page and examined it in silence for several seconds before announcing she’d found the expense account for office supplies and sundry requirements. “He spent four pounds on paper last month, and two crowns on sugar. No, wait, that was aggregate. Each clerk had to contribute a shilling and there are…one, three…six…eight…ten…ten clerks, so he actually pays half that. Ah, and he reimburses himself the price of membership fees at Brooks and Whites, which seems a trifle corrupt.”
“Actually, I imagine he picks up a good deal of business by advancing gamblers the blunt to settle their debts,” Kesgrave said.
“Well, then, that is a dead end, is it not.”
Bea continued to look through the book but found nothing else of interest.
“I have the account ledger,” he announced, “with the running balances of all the depositors. It appears to be in order. I recognize a few names, which seems like an unacceptable breach in courtesy.”
She put the book of expenses back into the cabinet and, turning her attention to the bottom shelf, withdrew a folder. It contained loan applications that had been approved. “How much time is left?”
“Four minutes, three to be safe,” he said.
“If he returns sooner, you can stare down your nose at him and announce that you will take your fifty thousand pounds to a bank that allows you to peruse its private documents,” she said.
“I suspect even Mayhew’s sycophancy has its limits,” Kesgrave said, laughing. “I have one more book here and another stack of documents.”
“Very good,” she said and instantly reconsidered when she realized they had few chances left to find something genuinely incriminating. Other than overcharging his own clerks for sugar, Mr. Mayhew seemed to run a circumspect business. She opened the last ledger and noted it was a record of his employees. Reading through the first column on the opening page, she immediately noticed something amiss.
“Mr. Réjane is here,” she said softly.
Not comprehending, Kesgrave darted a confused glance up.
“His salary,” she explained, “is included in the employee ledger. I think Mr. Mayhew paid him with the bank’s money. It is irregular, is it not?”
Again, the duke could not agree. He owned it was not ideal, but as with the membership to the gentlemen’s clubs, it could reasonably be described as a business expense. “He uses exquisite dinners to draw in new clients.”
Bea thought that if she were one of Mr. Mayhew’s brothers, she would object to his drawing from the bank’s account to bear the expense of his servants, but it was not the sort of revelation one slew another man to conceal.
Disappointed, Bea turned the page, quickly skimming the names. There was Herbert, who had brought the tea, and Squires, the clerk who had greeted them as soon they had entered.
Now this is interesting, she thought, encountering Parsons’s name. She allowed that Mr. Réjane could be categorized as a business expense in a roundabout way, but making the same argument for the butler would require far too many contortions. And he was compensated at a markedly smaller rate than the grand chef. Was the butler aware of the pay disparity? If he was, he must have found it so insufferably intolerable that this man who had endangered his own livelihood drew such a comfortable living he did not have to worry about insecurity himself.
Insufferable enough for murder?
She flipped the page.
“We must put everything back,” Kesgrave said. “Ten minutes have passed and I am sure he will return presently.”
Bea agreed, for it felt to her as if she had been rummaging through the cabinet for considerably longer than a mere ten minutes, but she nevertheless lingered over the employer ledger. It was the most promising document she had examined all afternoon.
Kesgrave closed the cabinet door and began fiddling with the latch to lock it again. “Bea!” he said somewhat more forcefully.
“Yes, yes,” she said, her eyes racing down the page as she read name after name. It was surprising to her how many men it took to run a banking concern. And so many clerks: George Anson, William Hawes, Michael Parnell, Alan Bayne, Charles Watson.
Hold on a moment: Alan Bayne?
“Bea!” Kesgrave breathed urgently.
With no time left, she tore the page out of the book, folded it haphazardly and, having no other recourse, thrust it into her bodice. Then she shoved the ledger back into the cabinet and tossed the pile of documents, now chaotically disordered, on top. She slammed the cabinet door shut and with Kesgrave nipping at her heels, dashed back to her chair.
They had barely regained their seats when the door opened and Mr. Mayhew entered followed by Herbert with a silver tray bearing the requested items. Carefully, he settled the salver on the
