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“Sit down,” Jeb ordered.
When Myers merely stared at them, Jeb pushed him forcefully down into a seat at the table.
“Y-y-you are that Lord’s son.” Myers scowled.
Jeb shook his head. “I am the one who is going to ask the questions around here. You will be the one who answers.”
“What do you want with me?” Myers looked frantically around the room as though searching for support. The fact that there was none only added to his panic.
“You know,” Jeb said darkly. “I overheard your conversation with Delilah Carney the other day. You were also seen meeting with your boss. I should imagine he is quite a ruthless man to work for.”
“I-I don’t know what you mean,” Myers gasped.
“We could go around and around in circles, but I am a man of very little patience and you annoy me. You are outnumbered four to one and are going nowhere until I tell you. Do not try to lie to me. I know more than you realise.”
“You know nothing,” Myers blustered.
“I know you are off to jail when we are done with you and will add at least five years onto your sentence if you refuse to co-operate so it is important you tell us what we need to know.”
“You cannot just add to my sentence like that,” Myers protested confidently. “I know you. You are that Lord’s son. You aren’t the magistrate. You don’t have the authority to threaten me.” He held his hands out palms up. “Where is your proof that I have done anything wrong?”
“You don’t own the house you are sitting in for one thing. As you are trespassing, and most probably broke in here, I can only assume you murdered Morwenna Banks, the lady who owned this house. Her relatives own it now, so you have broken in and are trespassing. Seeing as Mrs Banks was strangled in this house, you probably murdered her once you got in here. You were also overheard making threats to Delilah Carney, and ordering her to steal jewels for you from the Squire. To add to that, you were witnessed handing over goods stolen from people living in the area to a renowned thief from London. “
Jeb sighed and leaned back in his seat. He allowed the silence to settle, and Myers to realise he had no argument he could put forward that would his innocence.
“I am the Lord’s son, that is correct, but I have some very powerful friends in high places.”
Barnaby stepped forward officiously and began to read the man his list of crimes in official terms as though he was the judge and jury.
“I have been told your name is Roland Myers, is that correct?” He lifted a hand when Myers opened his mouth to speak. “I would warn you now that any further lies from this moment forth will be considered an obstruction of justice. That charge will be added to the list of charges against you, so I suggest you speak the truth and nothing but the truth from this moment forth.”
“My name is Roland Myers,” the man declared quietly.
“What is your address?”
“21 Mayfair Terrace, Walthamstow.”
Jeb knew this was the house the man called Mr Cavannah had gone into. “What’s your cohort’s name?”
“If I rat on him I will end up like that woman who lived here.”
“Your victim, you mean?” Jeb shook his head in disgust.
“I didn’t kill her. He did, and that girl.” Myers began to sweat.
Jeb watched him swipe at the beads of moisture on his brow with a hand that shook almost uncontrollably but could feel no pity for him.
“What’s his name?”
“You are going to the local jail, so are not likely to go back to London for a long time yet. Co-operate with me and we will make sure your cohort will go to a different jail when we catch him.” Jeb looked straight into the man’s eyes. “He will be caught. He is likely to get hard labour, so will be a little too busy to bother with the likes of you.”
Myers sighed, but he was outnumbered. There was nothing he could do.
“His name is Rawdon Bamber. He is a cousin of Charles Bamber.”
The men from the Star Elite looked at each other. They knew exactly who the Bamber family were. They were not quite as ruthless as Terrence Sayers. They were more tinkers than marauding gangs, people who ran pick-pocketing gangs and carried out smaller shop raids, that kind of thing. They weren’t masterminds, or particularly intelligent enough to be truly cunning. They usually lied a lot when they were caught, and had a tendency to cover for each other. Because they were poorly educated, they had frequent clashes with the law, and tended to be arrested for crimes that included smashing up taverns while in the midst of a brawl, or stealing a Lord’s sheep. They weren’t known to be involved in jewel thefts or stealing from inside grand houses. That required cunning, planning, and stealth.
“They have several pick-pocketing gangs working in London,” Jeb frowned.
