The Constable's Tale by Donald Smith

Author:Donald Smith [Smith, Donald]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Pegasus
Published: 2015-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

36: Artificers & Persons of low Degree ought not to use many ceremonies to Lords, or Others of high Degree but Respect and highly Honour them, and those of high Degree ought to treat them with affibility & Courtesie, without Arrogancy.

—RULES OF CIVILITY

THE HOUSE OF JOHNSTON REALLY WAS A HOUSE, A FLAT-FRONT BRICK structure in a row of similar ones with carriage lamps and expensive-looking curtains swooping down behind tall windows. A small plaque beside the door was the only signal it was a place of business. By its stillness it seemed deserted. No one answered repeated knocks. He asked several passersby where Johnston lived, if not here. Either they had no idea or thought it odd and possibly sinister that anyone would ask. The morning breeze felt unsettling on his cheek as he resolved to wait. Knowing this same stirring of air would be carrying Maddie away to Canada and to a future of reliance on a man with a taste for cruelty.

Finally, at half past ten, a servant came and unlocked the door. Harry explained his business as briefly as he could, and after a further short wait, the proprietor came out.

Johnston lived up to his billing as a blooded aristocrat, albeit a product of his father’s adventuresome habits and thus deprived of title and money. He looked to be in his fifties, with a nobly featured face and the genteel manner of one accustomed to moving in high circles. Harry had rarely seen a suit of ordinary daywear as finely turned out as the buff-colored suit he wore. Speaking in a clipped manner similar to that of Captain Biggerstaff but with softer edges, Johnston asked Harry to restate his business. Harry held up the brooch. “I’ve been told it’s possible you might be able to identify this object. It was found at the site of a murder in North Carolina.”

Johnston gave the badge a look-over, paying special attention to the emblem on its face.

“Interesting,” he said, handing it back.

“Do you recognize it? I understand it was likely made by a jeweler in London by the name of Wykes.”

“Before I answer, might I know more about how you came to have it?”

Once again he told his story. He had nearly committed the short version to memory word for word, so often had he repeated it now.

“A unfortunate tale,” Johnston said when he was finished. “Harry—Do you mind if I call you that? Would you care for some tea?”

He could stand it no longer. “Can you tell me about this brooch?”

“It is a counterfeit. A very good one, I must say, but clearly a forgery of an authentic Wykes production. Look closely at the workmanship.”

“I was told by two different dealers in jewelry that the work is first class.” Harry was looking at it again and could see no imperfections.

“Which ones, if I may ask?”

“A man by the name of Bannerman in Williamsburg and the person he directed me to in Philadelphia, Jacob Merkly.”

“I doubt there are two finer men in America.

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