Page 33 of The Locked Room

‘And yet I have a weakness for the finer things myself,’ Pole went on. ‘Perhaps we may be of use to one another after all, Miss⁠—’

Her heart thudded. ‘Peterman,’ she said, as coolly as she could manage. ‘Hilda Peterman.’

He lowered the eyeglass to observe her then. ‘Peterman,’ he repeated, as Beth also glanced at her sharply. ‘An interesting surname. Tell me, is it the family occupation?’

Harry tried a carefree shrug. ‘No. But I’m always on the look-out for long-lost family members. Maybe you know one or two.’

He regarded her for several seconds. He was no longer a predator surveying its prey – now his manner was that of a scientist contemplating an interesting specimen. ‘It’s possible a Peterman might be found in my ledger,’ he said. ‘But there are so many names.’ His attention switched suddenly to Beth, who had been following the exchange with narrowed eyes. ‘I’ll give you half a crown for this.’

Her mouth fell open in what Harry thought was genuine outrage. ‘What? It’s worth ten times that.’

He shrugged. ‘You say it’s a treasured family heirloom but how am I to know whether that’s true? Half a crown is a fair price for something that might bring the police to my door, wouldn’t you say?’

Beth scowled. ‘It ain’t stolen.’

Pole inclined his head. ‘Perhaps not, but the risk is mine nonetheless. My commission on the loan will be a further half-crown, bringing the total pledged to a full crown. You have one year and a day to repay the pledge, starting from today’s date.’ His hand closed around the bracelet. ‘Do we have an accord?’

‘That’s robbery!’ Beth said, and her voice rose several notes. ‘No, we do not have an accord. I’ll go and see Mrs Hackett, she’ll give me a better price.’

A distant scraping sound broke the silence that followed her words. Harry heard the ponderous tread of heavy feet. The beaded curtain swayed and rattled as a meaty fist appeared and forced the strands apart. ‘They giving you trouble, Mr Pole?’

The man was a giant, Harry thought as he ducked through the doorway to glare at them. His shirt strained over enormous biceps as he folded his arms, and she saw his forearms were covered in tattoos. The face was florid and wide, its size only exaggerated by his bald head. His eyes were piggy, dwarfed by a large hooked nose that looked as though it had come off worse in a number of fights. The overall impression was of a mountain that had pulled loose from the earth, but there was intelligence in his porcine gaze and Harry was struck by a fleeting observation that he was somehow familiar to her, although she was certain they had never met. He was, however, exactly the kind of complication she had feared. She exchanged a look with Beth and something passed between them. There was no help for it, Harry realised as she smothered a wave of dismay. They would have to agree. ‘All right, you’ve got a deal,’ Beth said. ‘Mind you don’t sell it. I’ll be back for it as soon as I get myself straight.’

Solomon Pole reached for the ledger. ‘A wise decision. I’m going to need your name and address for my records.’

Harry tensed. They hadn’t discussed providing a false address, not having planned to get as far as pawning the bracelet. But Beth showed not a flicker of concern as she reeled off the name Lizzie Devine, and an address in Bethnal Green that might be real or as fake as her name. If Pole was suspicious, he didn’t show it. His bruiser radiated menace as Pole handed Beth a numbered ticket. ‘You need this when you come to pay. I won’t release the item without it, no matter how much you beg.’

Beth studied the ticket, then squinted at the ledger. ‘Does it match what you wrote down there?’

Pole turned the book to show her. ‘As I said, Miss Devine, I run a respectable business.’ His gaze flickered to Harry. ‘And perhaps if you both return, I may have had time to consult the ledger for that long-lost family member you mentioned.’

Harry said nothing as he slid a coin across the glass towards Beth. ‘I hope that helps to alleviate your financial difficulties,’ he said smoothly. ‘Good day to you both.’

The giant took a step forward, making it clear the transaction was at an end. Glowering at both men, Beth snatched up the money and flounced to the door. Harry followed, resisting the temptation to cast a longing glance at the bracelet. They would retrieve it, she told herself as an ache welled up in her chest. It was not lost. Overhead, the bell tinkled and was abruptly cut off by the closing door. Neither of them spoke. Instead, they set off along Middlesex Street, listening for the thud of heavy feet that suggested trouble was brewing.

When they reached the derelict shop adorned with posters, Harry placed a hand on Beth’s arm. ‘I think we’re safe.’

‘I’m not sure we are,’ Beth grumbled, but she stopped walking all the same. She held out the ticket and the half-crown to Harry and sighed. ‘I suppose these are yours.’

‘Keep the money,’ Harry said, taking the ticket. ‘As payment for today.’

Beth looked as though she might refuse, then tucked the money away in a pocket. ‘So now what? I’m sorry about the bracelet. I know it’s important to you.’

Another stab of dismay pierced Harry’s stomach, but she forced herself to ignore it. ‘That’s not important for now. What matters is that we’ve established Pole isn’t against handling stolen goods.’

The other woman sniffed. ‘Hardly the discovery of the century.’

‘No, but there’s also the suggestion that he knows a safe-cracker or two,’ Harry countered.

‘I did wonder where you were going with all that long-lost family malarkey,’ Beth said. ‘But then I remembered that Peterman is another name for a safe-cracker. That was quite clever, even if it did bring the plan tumbling down around our ears.’

‘Yes,’ Harry admitted. ‘Sorry about that.’

It had been a risk, but one that had been worthwhile, she decided. And perhaps the odds had always been against getting out of the door with the bracelet still in their possession. It certainly seemed that Solomon Pole had meant to have it. Her gaze came to rest once more on the poster for Cuthbert’s circus and she stared without really seeing it, her mind circling around everything the pawnbroker had said.

‘At least we didn’t get beaten black and blue,’ Beth cut in, sounding a little more positive. ‘Did you see the size of that devil he had working for him?’

‘Hmmm,’ Harry said absently, as something tugged at her memory. Her gaze slid across the poster, taking in the grinning strongman with his bulging forearms, and something fell into place. ‘Beth, look at this. Do you think that’s him?’