Rose Campion and the Curse of the Doomstone by Lyn Gardner

Author:Lyn Gardner [Lyn Gardner]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780857638441
Publisher: Nosy Crow
Published: 2017-05-20T16:00:00+00:00

16

“That’s perfect,” said Rose, taking the picture that Effie had drawn on a sketchpad and examining it closely.

“You are clever, Effie. You’ve caught Billy Proctor’s likeness exactly. It’s as good as one of those photographs.”

Rose was on a mission. She had decided that Billy Proctor needed urgent investigation. If Amy had been murdered, as she believed, and her death was connected with the theft of the Doomstone, she was increasingly certain that Billy was the culprit. She had tried to raise her suspicions with Thomas, but he would not be persuaded even when she had told him that she was quite sure that she had spotted Billy at Holloway Prison, and was certain he was going to visit the underworld mastermind known as the Duchess.

“You are putting two and two together and making five, Rosie,” said Thomas patiently. “You are not even one hundred per cent certain it was Billy you saw outside the prison, and even if it was, he might just have been passing and it could have been a coincidence.”

“But Julia Devonish said the Duchess was having a visitor. I think it was Billy and that’s why he was at Holloway.”

Thomas was not convinced. “Even if he was visiting this so-called Duchess, it doesn’t make him a criminal by association. Listen, Rose, I know you don’t like Billy much, and with reason – he does seem particularly surly with you – but gracelessness is not a crime, and although he may have lied to me about his experience as a barman, he is learning and getting better.” He peered at Rose intently. “Don’t tell me that you’ve never told a lie when you’ve felt the need.”

Rose couldn’t help blushing. She had told quite a few recently. She covered her discomfort by demanding, “Did you even check his references?”

Now it was Thomas’s turn to look bashful and he shook his head. “No. But I seldom do, Rosie. Gut instinct has always stood me in good stead, and gut instinct told me that, for all his failings, at heart Billy is a decent sort.”

Rose had come away from the conversation determined to look further into Billy’s background, which was why they were outside the Anchor in Rotherhithe.

“Come on, let’s go in,” she said to Effie. They stood up and walked to the door and went inside. The place fell silent and the few men sitting on stools at wooden tables turned to stare at them. They didn’t look friendly. Effie faltered, but Rose marched across the sawdust-covered floor to the bar, where a surly-looking man was spitting on greasy glasses to clean them.

“What do you two want?” he grunted. Rose held out the charcoal drawing of Billy Proctor. It really was very good: Effie had pinned the discontented expression in Billy Proctor’s eyes on the paper.

“Do you know this man?”

The barman’s eyes flicked over the drawing. “Who’s asking?”

“He’s working for my da. As a barman. He had a reference from here.”

The barman snorted. Rose noticed that one of the

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