Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

P enelope was seated on the sofa in her drawing room, with Charlie and Claudia sitting on the sofa opposite and Jonathon and Bryan in armchairs, when Barnaby and Stokes walked into the room, their smiles and their attitudes exuding success.

"You obviously have news." Impatiently, Penelope waved the pair to chairs. "What have you learned?"

Barnaby sank elegantly onto the sofa beside her, while Stokes claimed the armchair next to Jonathon's and declared, " Finally , we know where Sedbury was murdered, and that it seems he was killed by a single man."

"Where?" Penelope asked.

"On the Cole Stairs in Upper Shadwell," Stokes replied. "It's more a wide landing place than the usual narrow jetty and steps. A boatman on his way home from a local pub saw two men wrestling on the platform."

"Right time—before one o'clock on Sunday—and expected descriptions," Barnaby said. "However, his account of a large, heavy bruiser, taller and larger than Sedbury, is still too general to point a finger at the murderer, especially in that area."

Stokes grunted. "At least not without some other clues to go with it."

The door opened, and Mostyn appeared, carrying a whip. "I had to cut the leather thong to remove it, Inspector."

Stokes shrugged as Mostyn handed the unfurling whip to Barnaby, who grasped the handle and explained, "Courtesy of the lads' network, we located what we believe to be Sedbury's whip."

Charlie leaned forward, peering at the whip. He held out a hand. "Here, let me see."

Barnaby handed the whip over, and Charlie took it and examined the handle, then the thongs. Then he looked at Stokes. "This is definitely Sedbury's whip. The braiding here"—he pointed to where the thongs left the handle—"is quite unique. I noticed it when I took the whip off him on Saturday morning, and I've only ever seen that working on his whip."

"Perfect." Stokes's smile was smugly satisfied. "That's exactly the confirmation we need."

Claudia had been studying the whip and looked inquiringly at Barnaby. "Where did you find it?"

He described the pawnshop and their visit to the Sun Tavern. "Cedric the Long told us that he picked up the whip from beside the Cole Stairs, where it was lying discarded when he came past on Sunday morning."

Penelope sighed. "Well, I'm glad you two have significant advances to report, because as I was explaining to the others before you arrived, I fear that, on mine and their parts, there's little to no chance that we'll get anywhere pursuing the question of who might have had motive as well as opportunity to kill Sedbury." She couldn't help but look as dejected as she felt. "I interviewed the marchioness today, and as she most sapiently pointed out, the simple truth is that legions of people in all walks of life likely had a motive to kill Sedbury, and as for opportunity, as every one of those motivated souls ipso facto had to have met him, then if moved to kill him, every single tortured soul would have hired a brawler to do it." She pulled a face at Stokes. "Indeed, just such a brawler as the man who, according to the boatman, did away with the wretch."

Barnaby caught her eye and smiled sympathetically. "You never met Sedbury, so that wouldn't have been obvious to you."

"Yes, well." She huffed in frustration. "With my usual mode of investigation utterly stymied, I'm not sure what more I can contribute."

"Actually…" Stokes's expression of dawning comprehension suggested he'd seen a light. His gaze distant, clearly speaking as he followed his developing thought, he continued, "I think it very likely that even if we could wave a magic wand and learn if any of Sedbury's many victims had, indeed, hired a brawler to kill him, given what we learned today, the information will prove irrelevant, at least in terms of identifying our murderer."

Barnaby frowned and asked the question forming on all the others' tongues. "Why do you think that?"

Clasping his hands between his knees, Stokes leaned forward. "Because the location raises one critical question." He looked around the circle. "Why was Sedbury there?"

Stokes studied their faces, then reiterated, "What was Sedbury doing—expecting to accomplish—on the Cole Stairs at between twelve-thirty and one o'clock on Sunday morning? We haven't yet found the hackney driver, but it seems Sedbury went to the spot willingly, apparently to meet with someone who was at least his equal in size and strength."

Digesting the implications of their latest clues, Barnaby slowly nodded. "More, was Duggan's sense that Sedbury was looking forward to quashing someone under his heel a reflection of Sedbury's expectations of that meeting?"

"Only," Penelope put in, "the meeting went horribly wrong for Sedbury, and he was the one who got quashed by his intended victim." She thought about that. "Huh! How ironic."

Claudia said, "Everything seems to hinge on why Sedbury went to that spot."

Jonathon and Bryan exchanged glances, then Jonathon offered, "I—well, we—have heard rumors that, and I quote, ‘he frequents rougher circles far removed from the ton.' I never paid much attention to the whispers." Jonathon grimaced. "The truth was, I didn't want to know."

"I can't say I did, either," Bryan put in. "But perhaps that was why he was in that area. Because he had some sort of interest there."

Stokes nodded. "That's possible, and it's an angle we can pursue on the ground." He looked at Penelope and Barnaby. "As I see things now, our most pressing question is how did he get to the Cole Stairs? We assume he took the hackney the whole way, but did he?"

Barnaby stated, "We need to find that hackney driver and learn where he set Sedbury down."

"And when," Penelope added.

"That," Stokes said, "will tell us whether Sedbury went directly to the stairs and his putative meeting was, indeed, with the bruiser who killed him, or whether the meeting Duggan knew of occurred earlier and the encounter on the stairs was something else entirely."

Barnaby nodded. "We won't be able to tell until we find that driver." He met Stokes's gaze. "I'll speak with my lads. Now we've found the whip, we can concentrate on locating the driver."

Frowning, Penelope shook her head. "Regardless, what was Sedbury doing in such an area?" She looked at the other Hales and Charlie. "A liking for rougher circles or not, it's hardly an area that gentlemen frequent."

"There has to be a reason," Stokes stated. "I'll put my men onto scouring the area for witnesses. Now we know where he was, we can be much more thorough."

Again, Jonathon and Bryan exchanged a glance, then Jonathon looked at Stokes. "We'll help. It might be useful to have someone to point to instead of just a vague description, and as much as it pains me—and Bryan—to admit it, Sedbury and the pair of us are similar enough to be mistaken at a glance."

Barnaby nodded. "That would help, possibly a great deal. Having you along might jog someone's memory." He glanced at Stokes. "Enough for them to react and, thus, label themselves as a person with information."

Stokes's wolfish grin said he approved of that tack. He looked at Jonathon and Bryan. "We'll be happy to have you two along. Anything we can do to better our chances of learning all we need has my vote."

"Meanwhile…" Penelope had been thinking and, now, looked at Claudia. "When I spoke to your mother, I received the distinct impression that while she didn't have any specific information, she suspected that there was more to Sedbury's nefarious activities in London than she and the family knew. For instance, she alluded to many of Sedbury's victims in town—those with motive to kill him—coming from outside the ton." Her gaze on Claudia's face, Penelope tipped her head. "Your mother mentioned that your aunt, Lady Selborough, was Sedbury's godmother. I would describe her ladyship as the meddling sort. Do you think she might know more about Sedbury's London activities?"

Claudia looked much struck and eagerly replied, "I would be very surprised if she didn't. Aunt Patricia is one to poke her nose into her relatives' lives without quarter." She glanced at her brothers, both of whom plainly agreed with that statement. "So yes!" Claudia straightened and returned her gaze to Penelope. "We should definitely ask Aunt Patricia what she knows and wheedle whatever she does from her."

Penelope nodded decisively. "We—you and I—will interview her tomorrow." She looked inquiringly at Charlie. "It might help if you came along as well. You might be able to make more of what her ladyship tells us than Claudia or I."

Charlie readily nodded. "Happy to help." He paused, then, frowning slightly, added, "Just as long as I don't have to interrogate her ladyship."

By the looks on all the other men's faces, they agreed with that stipulation, but Claudia just smiled, and Penelope laughed. "I believe," she told Charlie, "that you can leave that to me and Claudia."

Claudia beamed, and in much better moods, each with their task for the following day settled and before them, the company made arrangements where to meet and when, then broke up.

As arranged with Claudia, at precisely eleven o'clock the following morning, Penelope stood beside Charlie on the porch of Selborough House and watched him pull the bell chain.

The butler recognized them both and bowed them in, then took their hats and coats.

Claudia peeked out of the drawing room, then came quickly to join them. "Aunt Patricia has agreed to speak with us." She lowered her voice to add, "It took quite a bit of convincing to make her see the need, but Mama helped." Claudia pulled a face. "While none of us want to air Sedbury's linen in public, Mama pointed out that the alternative was potentially much worse. We can't simply ignore his murder and hope the situation goes away. Unless the murderer is caught, the speculation over who killed him is only going to grow worse."

"To the detriment of all the Hales," Penelope added.

"Exactly!" Claudia led them toward the open drawing-room door. "I just wanted to warn you that Aunt Patricia remains reluctant over speaking of Sedbury and his habits." Just outside the door, Claudia paused and, in the tone of one struck, concluded, "That likely means she knows something she believes will be detrimental to his and the family's reputations."

"Indeed." Penelope's eagerness to question her ladyship escalated. "Let's see if we can induce her to tell us what that is."

With Charlie beside her, Penelope followed Claudia into the drawing room. Lady Selborough sat in one of the chairs before the fireplace, while the marchioness sat on the sofa, in the corner closest to her sister-in-law.

Lady Selborough was of average height and build, with faded curly blonde hair and pale-blue eyes. Being Rattenby's sister, she was several years older than the marchioness and was a typical matron of her vintage, with her rather fussy taste in dress a reflection of her fussy nature. She was fidgety, too, and as Claudia made the introductions, incessantly fiddled with her rings, turning them around and around.

After acknowledging Penelope's greeting, her ladyship gushed, "I do hope, Mrs. Adair, that we can rely on your discretion."

Penelope blinked, then countered, "I can assure you that the only information we will carry from here will be facts relevant to establishing who murdered your nephew."

Lady Selborough looked faintly peeved. "Well, I suppose…"

The marchioness patted Lady Selborough's arm bracingly. "Stop worrying, Patricia. As Claudia and I explained, we all need to know anything pertinent you can tell us." The marchioness waited until Penelope and Charlie sank onto the seats Claudia steered them to, then commanded, "Now, my dear, please enlighten us as to what you know of Sedbury's doings."

Lady Selborough continued to look uncertain. She glanced at Penelope, and Penelope schooled her expression to one of mild inquiry.

Finally, her ladyship cleared her throat and said, "When Sedbury came on the town, as his godmother, I made an effort to keep in touch. He used to call occasionally, albeit only when I sent around a note to summon him to tea. Some years ago—three or four years after he started living in London—I became aware, largely from comments he made, that he had developed a liking for…I believe the term is ‘roughing it.'" Faint color appeared in her ladyship's cheeks. "Apparently, some quirk of his nature led him to seek entertainment in circles far removed from the ton. After noting my reaction to his occasional revelations, he took positively evil delight in slipping tidbits about his low life into our conversation purely to disconcert and worry me."

Plainly captured by her memories of such exchanges, Lady Selborough raised her hands to her lined cheeks. "I was so thankful that Selborough was never around to hear some of the things Sedbury claimed to have done. It was… mortifying to think of a Hale behaving in such a way."

Lowering her hands, her ladyship hauled in a fortifying breath. "In the end, I grew so angry with him—at the way he was thumbing his nose at the family and, indeed, at the very values that are the hallmark of a gentleman—that I pretended not to listen anymore, and gradually, I invited him less and less frequently, until over the past year or two, he hasn't been to this house."

Carefully, Penelope probed, "What, exactly, was he doing that so bothered you?"

Her ladyship's lips firmed, and her eyes flashed. "He was using his position to satisfy his darker cravings. I firmly believe that the power of being heir to the marquessate had quite gone to his head. While within the ton, his position would let him go only so far, in lower circles, he was able to lord it over anyone and everyone." Her voice lowered, and she went on, "Even as a child, he'd shown a tendency toward being viciously cruel. As a man, by exploiting his position, he was able to feed his liking for cruelty and unspeakable pleasures—he literally enjoyed causing others pain."

The marchioness had paled. Now, she said, "Perhaps it's fortunate for the ton that Sedbury preferred the lower orders on whom to visit his tastes. That said, I wouldn't wish the fate of being Sedbury's victim on anyone."

Penelope regarded Lady Selborough. "I accept that you will not know details, but from what you did gather, how low had Sedbury sunk?"

For a moment, Lady Selborough pale's gaze remained fixed on Penelope's face, then in a low tone, she replied, "The last time I encountered him in private—the last time he indulged me with any comments about what he did with his life—he was well beyond the pale and striding down the road to depravity and damnation." She shuddered, then with her voice gaining strength, went on, "He was a fiend , plain and simple. And it's my firm opinion that the family should reward whoever removed him from this earth, thus sparing us from what would undoubtedly, at some point, have been untold ignominy and wretched grief."

Slowly nodding, Penelope digested that, then refocused on Lady Selborough. "One last question. Did Sedbury ever mention any particular part of town in relation to his deplorable activities?"

Lady Selborough frowned, clearly trawling through her memories. "Dockside." She nodded and met Penelope's gaze. "He mentioned the docks and being near the river several times."

"Thank you for your help." Penelope included the marchioness in her nod. "Your candor has given us much to think about."

She rose, as did Charlie and Claudia. Charlie took his leave of the marchioness and Lady Selborough and, with Penelope and Claudia, walked into the front hall, leaving the older ladies sharing reassuring whispers.

Penelope sighed, halted, and glanced at Claudia and Charlie. "Quite obviously, Sedbury was a massive scandal in the making, a volcano that could have erupted at any time."

Claudia looked faintly shocked. "I had no idea he'd become that bad."

"Hmm." Penelope frowned. "We came here hoping to learn whether Sedbury had any interest in the area around the Cole Stairs—the sort of interest that might have led to him going to a midnight meeting there." She looked at Claudia. "It seems your aunt has given us the answer."

His expression grave, Charlie said, "Because that area was the one to which he went to satisfy his darker urges. He went to meet someone with his whip in hand and in an expectant mood. Odds are that meeting was connected to his usual activities in the area."

Penelope nodded. "Precisely."

Claudia was frowning. "If Sedbury regularly went to that area to indulge his warped tastes, doesn't that mean that the locals will very likely know him?"

Penelope blinked. "An excellent point." She looked at Charlie and Claudia with renewed enthusiasm. "We'll send a messenger at once to Stokes, Barnaby, and your brothers. In canvassing the locals, they need to know what to ask."

By the time Penelope's groom-cum-guard, Connor, caught up with Barnaby down by the river and conveyed her latest information with the implication that Sedbury would be known to the locals in a more definite way than the investigators had supposed, Barnaby and Jonathon, who had been doing their damnedest to reassure the locals and glean what they knew of Sedbury, had already come to the same conclusion.

"This"—Barnaby flicked Penelope's note with one finger—"confirms that Sedbury was regularly and quite deeply involved with those living in this area."

Jonathon looked utterly mystified. "Why, for heaven's sake?" He turned, arms extended, indicating the drab reality of the narrow lane in which they stood. "What on earth brought him here?"

"According to Penelope, your aunt believes it was his warped tastes that drove him, in that he could indulge his habits to the hilt around here, and no one could say him nay." Barnaby looked disgusted. He refolded the note and returned it to Connor. "Find Stokes and give him that. Lord Bryan Hale is with him." Barnaby pointed eastward. "They were questioning locals over that way."

Connor saluted and left.

Jonathon frowned. "So what now?"

Barnaby looked at the next house along the cramped lane. "Now we go on as we were, but dig a bit deeper. We need to frame our questions in a way that conveys we already know that Sedbury was often around and see what confidences we can entice."

The area was a hodgepodge of tiny houses and cramped shops interspersed with stores and warehouses crammed with goods. They continued along the lane, knocking on doors and venturing into businesses and warehouses. About them, four constables did the same, and several of Barnaby's lads were working along the nearby lanes in their own way. It was easier for the lads to get chatting with the locals, and Barnaby had encouraged them to range ahead of where he and Jonathon were plodding along.

Barnaby and Jonathon came out of a shipwright's store to find one of the lads, Jordan, waiting.

Barnaby arched a brow in question, and Jordan tipped his head down an alley. "Reckon you need to hear what this old lady has to say, guv."

Barnaby nodded. "Lead the way."

Jordan turned and trotted down the alley, then veered into a connecting lane.

They were halfway down the lane when an old woman—probably not more than fifty but worn down by life—leaned out of an open doorway a few paces ahead. Her stained apron fluttered in the breeze, and her iron-gray hair was caught up in a net.

Her gaze landed on Jonathon, and for a second, she froze. Then her eyes flared wide, and she tensed to pull back.

Jonathon halted and called out, "I'm not Sedbury." Barnaby and Jordan halted as well.

The woman blinked. After a pregnant pause, she shuffled into the doorway proper and stared hard at Jonathon, scrutinizing his face, then running her gaze down his long length. Eventually, she nodded and looked into his face. "Aye, you ain't that devil. But who's to say you're not cut from the same cloth?"

Jonathon waved at the pair of uniformed constables who were coming up behind him and Barnaby. "Do you think I would be helping the police if I was?"

The woman looked at the constables, then sniffed. "Not sure talking to you or the rozzers is like to do any of us around here any good."

Barnaby stepped forward and, with an easy smile, said, "Still, it can't hurt, can it? You see, the man you called ‘that devil'—Sedbury—wasn't well liked in our circles, and from talking to those who live around here, we're realizing he wasn't anyone's favorite in this area, either."

"Favorite? Hah!" The woman crossed her arms over her chest. "He was a monster! Why, he near broke my Donnie's arm just because the boy accidentally jostled him in the pub, and he used that evil whip of his on Jonas Henry and nearly cut off his foot! Then there's the maids who live in fear of catching his eye, all scurrying around like mice these days. And I shouldn't forget Old Man Higgins, who that brute pushed into a wall so hard it broke the poor old codger's ribs. And that's just the happenings I know of. No telling what you'll learn if you ask a few blocks down."

She paused to draw breath, then looked at Barnaby before transferring her gaze to Jonathon. "We all heard someone offed him last Saturday night. I don't have a clue who did it, which is good because I'd not be inclined to tell on whoever did the world a favor and killed the blighter." She regarded Jonathon severely. "Even if he was kin of yours, he was a bad 'un to the bone."

Jonathon held her gaze and quietly said, "I know. Trust me, I know."

She must have read something in his expression, because after a second, she nodded. "Aye. Seems you do."

Satisfied, Barnaby thanked the woman, and Jonathon added his own thanks, along with a few shillings for her time. Barnaby commended Jordan and left him to continue along that lane, and he and Jonathon returned to the lane they'd previously been investigating.

They'd drawn a blank at another warehouse and had just come back outside when Barnaby saw one of the older lads, Finch, striding along with a man in a driving cape in tow.

Barnaby halted, and Jonathon stopped beside him.

Finch spotted Barnaby, and his face lit. He reached back and tweaked the man's cape. "This way. This is the gen'leman I told you about."

Barnaby smiled as Finch halted before him.

Finch beckoned the jarvey, who approached uncertainly. "This is the jarvey who took up the viscount in Pall Mall."

Barnaby nodded to Finch. "Good work." Barnaby waved the jarvey closer, then glanced at Jonathon and, to the jarvey, said, "You picked up a gentleman who looked like this man in Pall Mall on Saturday at close to midnight?"

The jarvey regarded Jonathon warily. "Aye." After a second, looking puzzled, he added, "But it wasn't this cove."

"No. But can you describe the man you took up?" Barnaby asked.

The jarvey eyed Jonathon. "Very like this one, but maybe older. Meaner looking, anyways. And the man I took up carried a whip, coiled in his hand. Short-handled sort."

Barnaby nodded. "That's the man we're interested in. So, from Pall Mall, where did you take him?"

"Here—well, close by." The jarvey pointed northeastward. "He had me drop him off at the corner of Gold Street and Upper Shadwell."

Gold Street ran for two short blocks from Upper Shadwell to the Cole Stairs. "Did he have you stop anywhere along the way?" Barnaby asked.

The jarvey shook his head. "Straight here from Pall Mall." He paused, then added, "He first told me to go to Upper Shadwell, then when I turned onto the street, he told me to go on and stop at Gold Street."

Barnaby nodded. "What time did you drop him off at Gold Street? Any idea?"

The jarvey screwed up his face in thought, then offered, "Best I can say is it was heading to one o'clock. The bells tolled for one as I was passing London Dock on my way back to Mayfair."

"About a quarter before the hour, then." Barnaby couldn't think of anything more they needed from the jarvey. He thanked the man and paid him generously for his time and for driving all the way to the docks.

"Happy to be of service." With a tip of his hat, the jarvey strode off, his cape swishing.

Barnaby turned to Finch, who was looking pleased as punch. Barnaby smiled. "Well done! Now, head back to Albemarle Street and tell Mostyn that you found the jarvey and that the man's spoken with me, and we have all the information we need on that score. And, of course, Mostyn will have something for you."

Barnaby had recruited Mostyn as his major-general in charge of the lads. Mostyn would know how best to reward Finch and would also get the word out to the other lads to stand down from their search.

"Yes, sir!" Beaming fit to burst, Finch saluted, then took off at a run.

Barnaby laughed. "Ah, to have the enthusiasm of youth."

"And its energy," Jonathon added.

"That, too." Barnaby considered how the latest information fitted with what they already knew. "If Sedbury was brought straight here and dropped off at the top of Gold Street at a quarter to one, then the encounter on the Cole Stairs must have been the meeting he'd been looking forward to."

Jonathon nodded. "No time to go anywhere else. Not before he was seen wrestling with some man on the stairs."

"The only possibility—and it's barely even that—is if Sedbury stopped off at one of the buildings along the way." Barnaby looked in the direction the jarvey had indicated. "Let's go to Gold Street and concentrate our efforts around there and see if we can find anyone else who can shed light on Sedbury's movements that night."

Half an hour later, Barnaby and Jonathon came out of a shop and found Stokes and Bryan waiting in the street.

Earlier, Barnaby had dispatched one of the constables who had been supporting him and Jonathon to convey the jarvey's information to Stokes.

"So," Stokes said, as Barnaby and Jonathon joined him and Bryan, "any further sightings?"

Barnaby glanced around at the sad-looking houses. "No. We couldn't turn up anyone who saw him or anyone else after Saturday midnight."

"However," Jonathon said, looking rather grim, "as to what brought him here and the likely reason for his meeting, it seems he'd taken to playing his games of intimidation and coercion on a larger scale and to a much deeper, darker degree in this neighborhood."

Bryan, whose complexion had turned a trifle pasty, nodded. "That sounds the same as the stories we've heard, and you can tell that no one's making them up—the passions are too raw." He, too, glanced around. "I wouldn't have thought it possible, but Sedbury was even more loathed and detested around here than he was in the ton."

"With reason," Stokes growled. "If even half the tales we've been told are true, Sedbury had taken to treating this area as his personal fiefdom. In more genteel society, he risked running afoul of all manner of social and similar strictures, but here?"

"Here," Barnaby responded, "he could do whatever he wished, and no one was in any position to even bring pressure to bear against him, much less say him nay."

"In other words," Jonathon said, "assuming he was killed by a local—someone he pushed too far—then the suspect list will run into the hundreds."

"If not thousands," Bryan put in. After a moment, he admitted, "And having heard all we have, I don't even know that I want whoever did for him caught."

Stokes grunted. "On a more positive note, we now have three more witnesses who noticed the fight. The one with the clearest view of the action and who, therefore, gave the best description of the man who killed Sedbury was another boatman. He was out on the river, but closer to the opposite shore than this one. Sadly, he was too far away to be able to identify our murderer, but he said the man was a trifle taller and broader than Sedbury—overall, definitely larger."

Barnaby whistled. "There can't be that many men of such stature around here."

Stokes dipped his head in agreement. "The boatman also said the murderer had dark hair, and he thinks it was curly. Our unknown man wore a long, heavy-looking dark coat, but no hat. The boatman saw both men arrive and step onto the platform. Sedbury first—although, of course, the boatman didn't know who he was—then the other man lumbered out from the shadows at the east end of the stairs. The boatman says the other man nodded to Sedbury, but they didn't shake hands."

"Well, Sedbury wouldn't, would he?" Bryan said. "He barely acknowledged anyone in the ton as an equal."

Stokes continued, "The boatman said the pair faced off about a yard apart, and they talked. The boatman thought the exchange lasted for several back-and-forths, then Sedbury stepped back and flicked out his whip. He paused, then raised the whip and struck at the other man. But the man raised his left arm—the boatman thinks he was wearing leather gauntlets—and the whip wrapped around his forearm, and he wrenched hard, but Sedbury didn't let go. The murderer jerked Sedbury closer and smashed his other fist into Sedbury's face."

Barnaby nodded. "That accounts for the damage to Sedbury's face."

"Yes. And it tells us that the boatman's information is reliable," Stokes said. "Sedbury staggered, but didn't go down. The murderer used the moment to unwind the whip from his arm, then Sedbury flung himself at the man, lashing out with his fists, although the boatman didn't think he managed to land many blows. That said, he didn't stop until the murderer thrust him off, and when he came in again, the murderer looped the whip about Sedbury's throat, stepped behind him, and pulled."

"The boatman saw Sedbury strangled?" Jonathon swallowed.

Stokes waggled his head. "Not quite, and he didn't truly realize what he was seeing until it was all over, because a laden barge passed down the river and cut off his view of the platform for the critical moments. When he could finally see the stairs again, only the other man—our murderer—was still there. He was standing on the edge of the platform and looking into the river downstream, then he turned and walked away into the shadows."

"In which direction did he walk?" Barnaby asked.

Stokes shook his head. "All the boatman could see was him leaving the platform, and he thinks it was more or less in the middle, near the end of Gold Street."

All four of them turned and stared down Gold Street toward the Cole Stairs.

Jonathon huffed. "So the murderer could have gone in any direction—east, west, or north—into the lanes."

No one argued the obvious.

"Well, from all we've learned today," Barnaby observed, "it seems that any number of denizens of this area had excellent reasons for wishing Sedbury dead."

Stokes sighed. "No matter how much he deserved to die, we still need to find the man who actually did the deed."

"A hired killer or someone local?" Barnaby mused. "He could be either."

Jonathon stirred. "Regardless of who he is and how much gratitude I feel he's owed not just by the family but by so many others, I suppose we have to find him in order to clear our own names."

The Hale brothers exchanged glances; neither of them looked all that keen to expose their half brother's murderer.

With his gaze narrowed on the stairs, Barnaby said, "One point we have established is that far from this being a ton matter, the reason Sedbury was murdered almost certainly lies somewhere around here."

The other three looked at him. No one disagreed.