Free Seven Dials by Anne Perry Page B

a case, Gracie acknowledged that. “I’ll get it done for yer,” she added, smiling across at Tilda with assurance. “I know someone as’ll look at it proper, an’ find the truth.”
    Tilda relaxed at last, and very tentatively smiled back. “Can yer really? I thought if there was anyone, it’d be you. Thanks ever so… I dunno wot ter say, ’ceptin’ I really am grateful to yer.”
    Gracie felt embarrassed, and afraid she had promised too much. Of course Tellman would do it, but the answer might not be one that would bring Tilda any happiness. “I in’t done nuffink yet!” she said, looking down and concentrating on finishing her tea. “But we’ll get it sorted. Now yer’d better tell me everythin’ ’bout Martin, all where ’e’s worked an’ things like that.” She had no pencil or paper with her, but she had only just recently learned to read and write, so her memory was long trained in accuracy, as it had needed to be.
    Tilda began the account, remembering details from the same necessity. When she was finished they went outside into the busy street and parted, Tilda to continue her errands, her head higher, her step brisker than before, Gracie to return to Keppel Street and ask Charlotte if she might have the evening off in order to find Tellman.
    It was granted without hesitation.
     
    GRACIE WAS FORTUNATE at the second attempt. Tellman was not at the Bow Street station, but she found him two blocks away in a public house having a pint of ale with a constable with whom he had been working. She stood just inside the entrance, her feet on the trampled sawdust, the smell of beer in the air and the noise of men’s voices and clinking glasses all around her.
    She had to look for several moments before she saw Tellman tucked away in the farthest corner, his head bent, staring somberly into his glass. The young man opposite him regarded him with deference. Since Pitt’s departure Tellman was a senior officer, although it still sat uneasily on him. He knew more than almost anyone else of the truth about the way Pitt had been plotted against, and who was responsible. He loathed the man who had replaced him, and more seriously than that, he also distrusted him. All his experience since Wetron’s arrival had indicated that he had motives and ambitions that were far from the simple success of solving crime. It was even possible that Wetron aimed as high as taking over leadership of the terrible secret organization of the Inner Circle.
    Gracie knew that both Mr. Pitt and Tellman feared that, but she had only overheard it and did not dare to speak of it openly to either of them. She looked across at Tellman now and wondered how heavily that weighed upon him. She could see in him none of the ease he had had when working with Pitt, even if he would never have admitted to it.
    She made her way through the crowd towards him, elbowing her way between men all but oblivious of her, pushing and poking to make them step aside, and she was almost at Tellman’s seat before he looked up and saw her. His face filled with alarm, as if she could only bring bad news.
    “Gracie? What is it?” He rose to his feet automatically, but ignored his companion, not seeing any need to introduce them.
    She had rather hoped to approach the subject obliquely, and that he would be pleased to see her, but she had to admit to herself that in the past she had only sought him out without invitation when she had needed his help. When it was purely personal she had waited for him to speak first. After all, to begin with she had been unwilling to offer him anything more than a rather impatient friendship. He was a dozen years older than she and firmly entrenched in his beliefs, which in most cases were contrary to hers. He passionately disapproved of being in service-it offended all his principles of social justice-whereas she saw it as an honorable way to earn a living and a very comfortable day-to-day existence. She felt no subservience and