Free The Sleeping Partner by Madeleine E. Robins Page B

“New World trade, I think. And the usual sorts of property here at home as well. I can find out more particulars if you’re desirous of it. There’s something else, something in the last few years, but I can’t call it to mind. Tomorrow I can get you a full accounting.”
    “‘Tis why I come to you, sir.”
    “A full dow-see-hay for you on the morrow.” Glebb mangled the French with relish. “This a new customer? No, no, I know you won’t tell me so.” Boddick arrived at that moment with a fresh pot of coffee. “Thankee, Boddick.” Glebb nodded but did not look up at the tapster. “D’you come back, miss. I’ll have something for you.”
    Miss Tolerance rose. “Thank you, Mr. Glebb. May I ask one more favor of you? Would you ask about to learn if this young woman—” she took the portrait from her reticule and showed it to him—”pawned anything here in London in the last fortnight?”
    “ Anything? ” Glebb blew his nose. “That’s a mighty broad question. You don’t know what she’d be a-pawnin’ of?”
    “Something of the sort that a young woman of good family might have to hand.”
    “I take your meaning, miss. Gee-gaws and prinkery. I’ll ask about. Might I know the lady’s name?”
    Miss Tolerance shook her head. “That I cannot tell you, Mr. Glebb.”
    Again Glebb shrugged. “Half of them that gives a name gives a lie anyway.”
    “You have seen what the girl looks like and you may imagine what might be available to her to pawn. If the lack of her name makes the task more difficult, console yourself with the sum you can command of me when the job is done.” She slid a half-crown across the table. “Shall I leave this on account, to be going on with?”
    Glebb nodded. “That’ll do for a start.” He regarded the coin with fondness before he deposited it in his waistcoat pocket. “Good afternoon, Miss Tolerance.”
    “Good afternoon, sir.” Miss Tolerance curtseyed and departed, nodding farewell to Boddick as she went.
    She walked back to Henry Street, enjoying the fine day and the sight of her fellow citizens about their business. On her return to Tarsio’s she ordered tea and went up to the Ladies’ Salon; she had promised her client a report and meant to write it now.
    It proved a more difficult note than she had anticipated. Miss Tolerance had not been idle, but she had not been particularly successful, either, and she was certain that a long list of the inns at which Evadne Thorpe had not been seen would not allay Mrs. Brown’s anxieties. At last Miss Tolerance began to write, framing her note in terms of what the lack of news told her about Miss Thorpe’s whereabouts.
     
    Unless Miss E and her companion have been more than usually sly, I believe that they must still be in London. No one at any of the coaching inns I have approached has seen any sight of her; and whilst they might have traveled from the city by post, such travel is expensive. As I have not been able to determine any information about the gentleman, I do not know what his finances are and thus how likely post travel might be. It would be very helpful if you could tell me
     
    Here Miss Tolerance paused and sipped at her tea. She had been about to ask if any of the sister’s jewelry was missing, but would that mean the girl had taken it with her, or that it had been pawned over a period of time to finance the elopement? The latter argued a degree of fixed purpose (or moral laxity) which seemed at odds with Mrs. Brown’s description of her sister.
    “Beg your pardon, Miss Tolerance.”
    Miss Tolerance looked up. Corton, the hall porter, was offering an envelope on a tray.
    “This just come for you, and I was sure you’d be wishing to have it.”
    In fact she was grateful for the distraction from her own writing. Miss Tolerance thanked Corton, took the letter, and tore it open. It was written in a clear, bold hand.
     
    Dear Miss Tolerance:
    It is imperative that I speak to you. Please call this