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Chapter 69
After leaving Lucy at her home, Silas hired a hansom cab and went immediately to the home of Percy’s father, out in Kensington. While Percy was paying off his debts, he was staying with his parents. From what Michael had told him, Percy had been working hard. However, perhaps Percy wasn’t working at all. What if he had sold whatever Silas’ father had buried to pay off his debts? Depending upon what it was, Percy might not have had to work at all.
The thought made Silas sick to his stomach. Whatever Josiah Sweet had hidden, it was his last gift to his children. It should have stayed in the family, as he had likely intended. Instead, Percy had been looking out for himself. As he always seemed to do. It only made Silas even angrier.
The cab came to a stop just outside of Mr Stalton’s house. It was a nice house, with white siding and dark shutters. The door was painted a bright cherry red and there was a brass knocker on it, in the shape of a lion’s head.
Silas stared up at it, calming himself before travelling up the flight of granite steps. There would be no use going in angry. He needed to approach Percy calmly. He would get him comfortable, then Silas would ask about the coordinates. Steeling himself, he walked up the steps and knocked.
“Lord Thornbridge!” the butler exclaimed when he saw him. “It has been a very long while, indeed.”
“It has,” Silas agreed. “Are the Staltons at home?” Even if Percy wasn’t there, he planned to give a full account of how things seemed to his father. The elder Mr Stalton was an honourable man who would ensure that Silas got back whatever it was that Percy had taken.
“Neither Mr Stalton nor his parents are at home, My Lord,” the butler said, to Silas’s disappointment. “However, we expect them back at any moment. If you’d like to wait for him in the study, I’m sure that would be fine, since you are a particular friend of Mr Stalton.”
“Thank you,” Silas said, finding that luck was on his side. Clearly, Percy hadn’t told anyone that he was no longer on friendly terms with Silas. Not to mention, he was about to be left alone in Percy’s study—where his former friend was most likely to hide something.
Silas was shown into the study, where the butler poured him a glass of brandy and then left him to his own recognizance. Silas waited until the butler’s footsteps vanished down the hall, then used the opportunity to go through Percy’s desk.
Setting his glass of brandy aside, he took everything out of the middle drawer, looking for a catch of some sort. Finding nothing, he put everything back. He then began to search through the ledgers that were piled on the desk, leafing through to see if there were any papers hidden in them. He tipped each book onto its side, pages down, then shook. Several papers fell out.
Silas perused them, finding them all to be in Percy’s hand. From the looks of it, Percy was not done with gambling, and had placed new bets as recently as the day before. Silas stuck them all back in the top ledger. Percy’s gambling wasn’t any of Silas’ concern. Then he recalled his brother, and how much Michael had put into helping Percy to get back on his feet. He reconsidered, pulling them out and placing them in the pocket of his own jacket. Michael would need to see, in order to extricate himself from Percy’s clutches.
He then turned towards another desk drawer. Inside, he found several fresh quills and pots of expensive inks, but no papers. He tried the bottom of the drawer, looking for a catch. Again, no such luck. He opened the third drawer. Inside, there was a strongbox. It was heavy. Silas peered at it. Whatever was inside moved with a clunk.
He set it on top of the desk. He wasn’t about to break into it. Not when he wasn’t sure that it had anything to do with his father’s buried treasure. Although, he considered it. The box didn’t look like it had been buried in the ground at all. It was smooth metal, with intricate workings in swirls.
No,he thought.Father wouldn’t have buried something like that.
When he was a child, his father had used wooden boxes, which he had made by hand. They were of cedar, with expert dovetailing at the corners. Silas recalled the sharp, but familiar scent of them.
No, Percy wouldn’t have kept it.
He turned his attention to the bottom of the drawer. Percy had always been so interested in false bottoms, and hiding things. He had gone on about them for hours, when intoxicated. Silas had a hunch that he had at least one. Sure enough, when he knocked on the bottom of the drawer, it made a hollow thunk, indicating that there was a space there. He then ran his fingers over the drawer’s bottom.
Finally, he found the catch. The false bottom opened to reveal a space lined in green velvet. He lifted it up and there, he found the same coordinates that had been in with his father’s things, scribbled hastily in Percy’s handwriting. This was damning. Not to mention, he found several stacks of bank notes. It seemed that Percy was up to something.
He blanched at the sight of the banknotes—was this windfall the result of the sale of his father’s treasure? He felt sick to his stomach, for it seemed to be the case.
Silas wondered—did Percy copy them down after finding them in the country study, and then go and get whatever was buried there? If so, where was the box? What had he done with it?
Silas put everything except for the coordinates back where he had found it, and then sat down in the armchair with the glass of brandy. He settled in to wait, coming up with his plan of attack as he stared into the flames which crackled in the grate.
***
All of the Staltons came to see Silas when they finally arrived home. They all smiled at him, though Percy looked somewhat on edge. He stared at Silas curiously. Silas grinned at him, watching as the smile fell from Percy’s lips. He’d had enough time to compose himself, while drinking the very good brandy. He felt as relaxed as a well-fed tiger.
“Lord Thornbridge! How good of you to come and visit us!” Percy’s father said. “It has been a very long time since I last saw you.”
“Indeed,” Silas agreed, though neither of them mentioned that it had been at his father’s funeral. “I actually came to ask Percy a question.”
“Then we shall retire to the parlour.”
“No, do stay. I think you need to hear this as well.”
Silas turned his gaze to Percy, who was like a rat caught in a trap. His eyes panicked, but his lips quirked upward in a cool grin.
“I can’t think of a thing that you would need from me,” he said, shrugging. “It was my understanding that we are no longer friends, Silas. As per your own admission and lack of care to my… recent difficulties.”
