continued, unphased. "We could check up on that Hart Inn near Bath and see if there really was a robbery there three years ago when she said her letters were stolen. Funny that whoever took them waited so long to sell them back to her."
"She said two or three years ago," Prance said. "You won't prove anything that way. There was a rash of robberies at all the inns around that time. And the letters were hidden under the jewel case lining. He might not have discovered them until recently."
"That's odd too," Coffen continued. "A thief don't usually keep a thing like that jewelry case to incriminate him. He'd grab the pearls and dump the box, the way the cut-purses do."
Luten, watching Byron from the corner of his eye, said, "Let us not forget Lady Callwood. The crime for which she was held to ransom was theft.'
''She didn't steal the brooch though," Byron said at once. "It was actually given to her by her lover."
"So she claims," Luten replied. "She might have stolen it and convinced her lover to protect her."
"But then why tell us about it so frankly?" Byron parried. "What I wonder is how the Bee found out about it. Who would have read the Shepton journals? None of our suspects are from that area."
"Oh journals have a way of getting around," Prance said airily. "Someone mentions a story like that to someone, sends them a copy. It needn't be a person who actually knows Lady Callwood. Her name appears in the social columns regularly. Someone put two and two together, that's all."
When no one either argued or agreed, he changed the subject. "We know the Bee has a brash, taunting sense of humour. That business of calling himself Hummer and giving his address at Newman's stable as an apiary. I can see Lady Callwood enjoying that sort of jape."
Byron nodded as if in agreement. When he rose to take his leave a moment later, he said to Luten, "I'll ask Lady Melbourne to find out if Appleby works for Lady Callwood or Mrs. Webber."
"Thank you, Byron, that would help."
As soon as the door closed behind him, Luten said, "Which of you is going to follow him?"
----
Chapter 11
Prance leapt to his feet. "Follow him?" he cried, high on his dignity. "No, that is going too far! Byron is a gentleman. You can't seriously believe he's in league with criminals who prey on helpless ladies!"
Coffen squinted his eyes and said, "B." When this didn't seem to enlighten his listeners he added, "Byron - it starts with B, like Napoleon."
"Like Bonaparte, you mean," Corinne said.
"Exactly. That's what's bothering you is it, Luten, the coincidence?"
"No, what's bothering me is how he invariably leaps to Lady Callwood's defence. Why doesn't he want us to investigate her? And which of you is going after him?"
"This is utterly ridiculous," Prance scoffed. "Furthermore, Luten, was it really necessary of you to mention his club foot? You must know he's extremely sensitive about it."
“I was trying to make him comfortable. I mentioned both our sore limbs.”
"It's hardly the same thing. Your ankle will soon be better. For poor Byron the agony both emotional and physical is a life-long affliction."
Black ducked his head into the room. "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation, your lordship," he said, addressing his words to Luten. "Since your carriages are all in for the night, I sent Jackie out to blow the whistle for a hackney. It's here. I watched which way his lordship's rig turned. If you put a wiggle on, you'll be able to follow him."
"I'll go," Coffen said, and picking up another sandwich, he hurried out.
Prance sniffed and said, "I wish to submit a formal objection to this procedure. I do not for one moment believe Byron is guilty of anything except being so handsome and dashing that other gentlemen," and here he glared at Luten, "are jealous of him."
In an effort to calm the troubled waters, Corinne said, "This is ridiculous. If he's innocent, Prance, what harm is there to follow him?"
"He is innocent! He's the one who brought us
"She said two or three years ago," Prance said. "You won't prove anything that way. There was a rash of robberies at all the inns around that time. And the letters were hidden under the jewel case lining. He might not have discovered them until recently."
"That's odd too," Coffen continued. "A thief don't usually keep a thing like that jewelry case to incriminate him. He'd grab the pearls and dump the box, the way the cut-purses do."
Luten, watching Byron from the corner of his eye, said, "Let us not forget Lady Callwood. The crime for which she was held to ransom was theft.'
''She didn't steal the brooch though," Byron said at once. "It was actually given to her by her lover."
"So she claims," Luten replied. "She might have stolen it and convinced her lover to protect her."
"But then why tell us about it so frankly?" Byron parried. "What I wonder is how the Bee found out about it. Who would have read the Shepton journals? None of our suspects are from that area."
"Oh journals have a way of getting around," Prance said airily. "Someone mentions a story like that to someone, sends them a copy. It needn't be a person who actually knows Lady Callwood. Her name appears in the social columns regularly. Someone put two and two together, that's all."
When no one either argued or agreed, he changed the subject. "We know the Bee has a brash, taunting sense of humour. That business of calling himself Hummer and giving his address at Newman's stable as an apiary. I can see Lady Callwood enjoying that sort of jape."
Byron nodded as if in agreement. When he rose to take his leave a moment later, he said to Luten, "I'll ask Lady Melbourne to find out if Appleby works for Lady Callwood or Mrs. Webber."
"Thank you, Byron, that would help."
As soon as the door closed behind him, Luten said, "Which of you is going to follow him?"
----
Chapter 11
Prance leapt to his feet. "Follow him?" he cried, high on his dignity. "No, that is going too far! Byron is a gentleman. You can't seriously believe he's in league with criminals who prey on helpless ladies!"
Coffen squinted his eyes and said, "B." When this didn't seem to enlighten his listeners he added, "Byron - it starts with B, like Napoleon."
"Like Bonaparte, you mean," Corinne said.
"Exactly. That's what's bothering you is it, Luten, the coincidence?"
"No, what's bothering me is how he invariably leaps to Lady Callwood's defence. Why doesn't he want us to investigate her? And which of you is going after him?"
"This is utterly ridiculous," Prance scoffed. "Furthermore, Luten, was it really necessary of you to mention his club foot? You must know he's extremely sensitive about it."
“I was trying to make him comfortable. I mentioned both our sore limbs.”
"It's hardly the same thing. Your ankle will soon be better. For poor Byron the agony both emotional and physical is a life-long affliction."
Black ducked his head into the room. "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation, your lordship," he said, addressing his words to Luten. "Since your carriages are all in for the night, I sent Jackie out to blow the whistle for a hackney. It's here. I watched which way his lordship's rig turned. If you put a wiggle on, you'll be able to follow him."
"I'll go," Coffen said, and picking up another sandwich, he hurried out.
Prance sniffed and said, "I wish to submit a formal objection to this procedure. I do not for one moment believe Byron is guilty of anything except being so handsome and dashing that other gentlemen," and here he glared at Luten, "are jealous of him."
In an effort to calm the troubled waters, Corinne said, "This is ridiculous. If he's innocent, Prance, what harm is there to follow him?"
"He is innocent! He's the one who brought us
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