Today's Reading
Sir Robert Foley was a tall, nervous man in his late forties. Even in his own house, he seemed to start and turn at the smallest sound.
'I've been like this since Monday,' he explained with a distant smile. 'It's left me on edge.'
He was a wealthy man, living south of the river on Water Lane in a solid, well-kept house with a garden that ran down towards the river. He seemed to feel no need to impress, an unprepossessing figure in a worn, dowdy coat and shoes with plain buckles. A very ordinary face, the type that few would remember.
'George Mudie tells me you're good at your work,' he said. 'He recommended you.'
'I'm grateful to him. He probably told you that I've been doing this for a long time. Before we start, Sir Robert, it would help to know something from your letter: why would you rather nobody knew about the theft? That's going to make my job harder.'
'Honestly, it's nothing sinister.' Another fleeting smile. 'I'd simply prefer not to be the butt of gossip and jokes, if that's possible.'
If people found out, it would be nothing. They'd forget in a day; they always did, Simon had learned that. Still, it was his choice; he was paying the bills.
'I'll do what I can to keep it quiet. You wrote that you noticed the cups were missing on Monday morning.'
'Yes, the same time I learned that Kendall had gone.'
'Kendall?'
'Thomas Kendall,' Foley said. 'My valet. The one who stole them.' He reached into his pocket and produced several folded sheets of paper. 'I've written down everything I know about him. I described the cups.'
The man seemed like a rare one for putting pen to paper. 'You said they'd been in your family for a long time.'
He nodded. 'Well over a century. The details about them are all in there, too. My great-grandfather commissioned them from a local silversmith called Mangey.'
'Mangey?' Suddenly Sir Robert Foley had his full attention.
'Yes. He was supposed to be the best in Leeds.'
'Arthur Mangey. I've heard his name.'
'Really?' Foley narrowed his eyes, curious. 'Not many have. Do you know his story?'
'Only the barest of bones,' Simon answered. The same name, twice in a short time. That was very odd. A coincidence? Or an omen?
'I've put what I know in that letter. There's a fair description of Kendall, the name of his previous employer, all about the cups and their hallmark. Return them and I'll pay you well.' He named the fee. Very generous, Simon thought; a good incentive to take the job.
'Very well.'
'Are you going to do it?' Mudie asked as Simon settled by the desk of the printing shop. He was bent over a block of type, peering close as he checked the letters. Sally sat quietly, observing everything.
'He seems like an odd one.'
Mudie laughed. 'Always has been. I've known him for years.'
'Can you vouch for him?'
Not a moment's hesitation. 'Yes. Absolutely.'
That was good enough.
CHAPTER TWO
Foley had put plenty of detail in the document. A complete description of Thomas Kendall, with his single distinguishing mark: a pair of old scars, parallel lines, across the back of his left hand. Hard to hide those.
Simon read the whole thing out loud. Rosie listened as she kneaded dough for the next day's bread. Sally hung on the words, frowning with concentration. She couldn't read, saw no reason to learn. Not like Jane, who'd taken to words like a duck to water when Mrs Shields began to teach her. But Sally had a formidable memory. She noticed, and fitted the pieces together.
'He'd been with Foley for a year,' Simon said. 'Completely trusted, the man says. Nothing ever missing before the cups, not even any questions about items that were lost. He can't understand why it happened.'
'Who did he work for before that?' Rosie asked.
Simon leafed through the pages. 'A family called Richmond on Park Square.'
She brightened. 'Richmond the banker? I've met his wife a few times.' She covered the dough with a towel. 'I can pay a call on her while this rises. The boys will be busy with their tutor for hours yet. It won't take me long to put on a decent gown.'
'Evidently they gave Kendall a good reference.'
'Come on, Simon,' Rosie said. 'A good reference could mean anything at all. You know that.' Her eyes gleamed at the chance to work with him again.
...
