“Do you remember anything about him that might help us locate him? Did he say anything about where he was staying?”
“That ‘e didn’t, or I’d ‘ave sent a copper after ‘im.”
“My dear lady,” Malcolm said, producing two five-pound notes from his wallet, “you have been of incalculable service. Please see that your sister-in-law’s losses are replaced.”
The old woman’s eyes shot wide at the sight of so much money. She took the banknotes with a shaking hand, turned them over and over, staring at them. Wetness spilled over and traced down both cheeks as she closed wrinkled hands around the money. The crackle of crisp paper was loud in Skeeter’s ears. Voice trembling, she said to her shopgirl, “Go an’ fetch Sally, luv, tell ‘er God sent a right proper angel t’look out for us. God bless you, mister.”
The girl’s eyes were bright, as well. She dropped a brief curtsey and ran out the back way. A door thumped, marking her exit, then Malcolm tipped his hat. “Good day, madam. Thank you again. If you hear anything else, your girl has my card.”
They left her clutching the money to her bosom.
The moment the door swung shut behind Skeeter, Malcolm said, “They are here, then, as surmised. It remains to locate their hiding place. It occurs to me that they cannot be staying anywhere in the immediate area, or the shopkeepers hereabouts would have recognized them as neighbors.”
“Well, they have to eat, don’t they?” Skeeter pointed out.
Malcolm’s eyes glinted. “Which means they must procure victuals from a chandler.”