"It's not a business matter, it's personal. Very personal."
With that pronouncement hanging in the air between us, I expected Matt to raise the issue on the way home, but he did not. Indeed, he had the coachman leave him at the top of Oxford Street and take me back to Park Street alone.
Detective Inspector Brockwell had made himself at home in the drawing room, presided over by Miss Glass. He contemplated a cup of tea in one hand and a plate with cake on the other, as if he couldn't decide which to consume first. He stood when he saw me and greeted me with a slight stutter. Was he nervous? About me? Perhaps he thought I'd use my magic to fling the clock at him.
"The inspector has just been telling me that the nasty fellow who calls himself a sheriff will go before a judge soon," Miss Glass said.
"It won't take long," Brockwell said, once again using a precise clipped manner of speaking. Now that I know he stuttered, I wondered if he spoke with such control to suppress it. "With so many witnesses of impeccable reputation," he went on, "the defense has no case."
"I'm glad to hear it," I said. "Is there any way to keep the element of, er, fantasy out of the proceedings?"
"I'm not sure that's wise. Hear me out, Miss Steele," he said when I began to protest. "Since I suspect Payne will mention magic as his motivation for the kidnap, purely to cause you difficulty, why not go along with it? Then it can be presented as fact that the magic didn't work."
"But it did. Matt's living proof."
"That part will be denied. We can say he was never ill to begin with, or merely had a fever that he overcame with bed rest. I'm sure Dr. Seaford will agree to such a diagnosis. What we can present is the fact that Payne tried to get the magic watch to work on an ill man, and it failed. I have some men searching for the poor fellow now, or witnesses who may have seen Payne attempt to cure him with the watch. Evidence of the experiment's failure will end rumor and speculation about medical magic once and for all."
"I suppose it's the only course open to us," I said. "As you say, Payne will mention it. It won't set him free, but he'll use it as a last ditch effort to cause Matt problems."
"I will be glad when he hangs," Miss Glass said, peering innocently at me over her teacup rim.
"It will cause a sensation, naturally," Brockwell said. "But acknowledging medical magic then refuting its power will dampen the enthusiasm The Weekly Gazette has drummed up. It's my belief that the public's enthusiasm must be dampened, for your sake—and Dr. Seaford's."
"I agree," I said. "You'll have our support in court."
He set down the teacup and considered the cake from all angles before biting off the corner. He took delight in eating it and did not speak again until he'd finished.
"I almost forgot to mention, in all the excitement," he said, not sounding the least excited. "Eddie Hardacre, otherwise known as Jack Sweet, changed his plea to guilty, so you won't be required to appear in court for his case."
I blew out a breath. "That is a relief."
"Excellent," Miss Glass said. "Perhaps now it will be easier for you to get your shop back, India."
"My grandfather's shop. But yes, I hope so."
"I must go," Brockwell said, rising. "Tell Mr. Glass I'm sorry I missed him."
I walked him to the front door where Bristow handed him his umbrella.
"I know you and I have not always found one another agreeable," I said to the inspector, "but I want you to know that I appreciate your honesty and determination to get to the truth."
His face fell. "I can assure you, Miss Steele, I have always thought you agreeable. Just because we do not see eye to eye on every matter doesn't make us enemies. Indeed, I found our conversations stimulating."
Then he was a better person than me.
"It hasn't been easy for you, bearing the burden of your secret and worrying about Mr. Glass's health," he went on. "He is your employer, is he not?"
"He is."
"Good. Good." He placed his hat on his head and gave me a curt bow. "I look forward to the next time we meet, Miss Steele."
It wasn't until he was gone that I wondered if his curious little smile had meant something more than simple politeness. "Why do you think he was pleased that Mr. Glass is my employer, Bristow?"
"I would not want to speculate, miss. But I'll be sure to tell Mr. Glass that the inspector made a particular point of asking."
* * *
Matt arrived home a little while later bearing gifts and a somber mood. He handed out the gifts to each of us in turn, and then disappeared to deliver some to the servants before we could thank him.
"Matthew, my sweet boy, come here," his aunt said when he returned. "Thank you for the tickets and necklace. I do love the opera, and now I will have something to wear with my favorite evening dress. You will attend with me, won't you?"
"Of course," he said. "That's why there are three tickets. India and I will both go with you. I doubted the others would want to attend."
"You know me well," Willie said, holding up her gift of a new leather gun holster. I didn't think it wise to encourage her to carry her weapon, but didn't say.
He'd bought Cyclops a new hat and a Baedeker's travel guide to northern France, since it was "easy to get to from London."
"You trying to get rid of me?" Cyclops asked.
"No, but I thought you might want to travel while you're in this part of the world. If I wanted to get rid of you, I would have purchase two one-way boat tickets."
Cyclops narrowed his good eye at Matt. "Two?"
Matt simply smiled.
He'd also bought Duke a set of pencils and a sketchbook since he used to enjoy drawing back in America. Matt even bought Chronos a gift, but he was nowhere to be seen. According to Bristow, he'd left while we were out after sleeping the night in the guest room.
My gift was a gold pocket watch with a moon face and chronometer. It would have cost a considerable amount. "I returned to Mason’s after I left you," Matt told me. "According to him, it's the finest piece he has ever made." He arched his brows. "Is it?"
"It's beautiful," I said, inspecting the back. "And I'm sure it keeps perfect time and uses only the highest quality parts. Mr. Mason is an excellent craftsman."
"Good, because I didn't want to give my custom to Abercrombie, but if you told me his watches are better—"
"They certainly aren't. He only has a reputation thanks to the patronage of princes, back in his father's day. If those princes had ever visited Mr. Mason, they would have purchased his watches instead." I rubbed my thumb over the smooth gold. "It's far too good for everyday use."
"I want you to use it every day," he said quietly. "I want you to think of me every time you look at it. I know it will never replace the one your parents gave you, but I hope it will become special."
"Thank you, Matt. I'll treasure it."