“We have not, but we will do so tomorrow. Duncan sent word around that he was chasing clues dealing with the bank notes,” Benjamin admitted. Benjamin had yet to tell Miss Whitchurch of this development. “What do you recall of Miss Cassandra?”
“I thought she was the type to rush off to claim a ready position,” Titan said. “I initially felt sorry for the girl, but that faltered when she did not ask even one question about what she would find at The Red Rooster. Her walk to the docks was more effort than she customarily put forth, at least according to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. Miss Whitchurch showed more fortitude than did Miss Cassandra. I imagine if the situation was reversed, Miss Whitchurch would have been applying at every shop she passed until she found a position on her own.”
Benjamin did not know much of Miss Cassandra Whitchurch, but he was not impressed by her. “Why should she care? Miss Whitchurch is working multiple positions and tending the boy.”
“A son…” Titan said with a lift of his brows. “Who is the father?”
“I dare not say,” Benjamin responded.
“A so-called gentleman of society,” Titan pronounced in a harsh tone. “That is to what Miss Whitchurch hinted. We have too many such men peppering England. To think that the man could have married the lady’s sister and have claimed the necessary heir. I am assuming the fellow came from a landed family, for the young lady mentioned her father lost his position as a vicar due to her sister’s actions.”
“I should finish my search,” Benjamin said, fearing he had already said too much. “Please express my gratitude to Mrs. Dove-Lyon for tolerating my curiosity.”
“I did not mean to intrude,” Titan repeated dutifully. “I am not required elsewhere. If you hold no objections, I would be pleased to assist you.”
“No objections,” Benjamin said as he bent to search around the next batch of trees.
Titan began a similar search along the nearby tree line. “I wish I had even a glimpse of the man who shot his lordship. What do you recall of him? The coat was assuredly too small for me, but it fit others working at the Den.”
Benjamin did not like the idea of others trying on the garment, but he spoke no complaints. He knew he should be thankful the coat was found and turned over to them. “As I said previously, our first impressions of the shooter have proven inaccurate. We all thought the fellow was near six feet and likely some fourteen stones or more, but we were standing nearer the street.”
“Making the man appear taller than he was,” Titan surmised. “As the shooter was on the slight incline leading up to the entrance.”
Benjamin stood up to look at Titan. “When we were escorting Duncan home, the man I mentioned earlier was standing along a wall that had plates that list the shops inside a close. Traditionally, they are placed at eight feet and above to keep them from being pulled away bysomeone set on mischief. However, a man of six feet, which we initially assumed our shooter to be, would easily be able to reach at least a few of the plates. Not so with the man we saw. Even when he finally stood straight, after we were well past him, and I was looking back to see if he meant to follow, I cannot think him much above five and a half feet.”
“Interesting,” Titan mumbled as he moved off to another patch of shrubbery. “Such would explain why the others who witnessed the shooting said the coat was quite long on the person, but we did not initially believe that to prove true, especially if the coat we found was worn by the shooter.”
Benjamin was bent over a small shrub backing to a row of tall pine trees, which marked the property line on the back of the lot. A rush of recognition arrived as he reached for the round piece of metal sticking up out of the dirt.
“Find something?” Titan asked.
“Believe so,” Benjamin murmured as he gathered first one and then another metal button.
“What have you there?” Titan asked as he came closer.
Benjamin rubbed the dirt off the first round disc with his thumbs. “Does this not resemble those on the coat?”
“I can’t be positive, but there is a definite similarity. Does this prove your theory?” Titan asked.
“Assuredly, it should make Duncan happier.” Benjamin put both buttons in his pocket. He did not mention the second one. He wanted to examine it closer, for it did not match the larger one. He turned to the Lyon’s Den’s manager. “Thank you for assisting me and for your attempt to assist Miss Whitchurch. I am in your debt. I wish for Duncan to see these immediately, so, if you will pardon me, I will call in at his office.”
Unfortunately, to Benjamin’s dismay, neither Duncan nor Hartley was in the office when he called upon them.
“Looking for his lordship?” one of the undersecretaries asked.
“Yes, I thought Duncan would still be in. He did not mention anything pressing for this morning,” Benjamin explained.
“The way I understand it, sir,” the man said with a look of serious importance on his countenance, “Lord Duncan stayed home because his daughter was ill.”
“Ill? Lady Theodora?” Benjamin asked in concern. “My sister is very rarely ill.”
“I heard Mr. Hartley say, the lady had taken to her bed. Maybe he did not say ‘ill,’ but that is what I assumed.”
Benjamin did not reprimand the man. “And Mr. Hartley?”
“Lord Duncan sent Mr. Hartley and several men to a place outside of the city, I think towards West Ham Marsh. That is what I overheard Mr. Hartley say. Something important, but Hartley did not share a word, sir. Just told me to be available if anyone called in at the office. Otherwise, I was to file that stack of reports.”
“Thank you,” Benjamin said. “I will catch up with them later.” As he exited Duncan’s office, he hoped Duncan had a lead on his shooter, but he would learn the right of it soon enough. The buttons were in his pocket, and he would lock them away until he could turn them over to Duncan. “Time for a meal and the hopes that Miss Whitchurch successfully returned to Macalhey House,” he thought as he ordered Mr. Stanton to take him home.
