The Luminaries

before been threatened in this way. ‘I will come no closer,’ he said, with dignity. ‘I will retreat, in fact, and at once.’ He returned to the chair he had formerly occupied, and sat down. ‘I do not wish to brawl with you,’ he said, speaking quietly now. ‘I do wish to ask you several questions, however.’
    ‘Go on,’ said Anna, still breathing hard. ‘Ask.’
    Devlin decided upon a direct approach. ‘Did you know that the gowns you purchased salvage last winter had once belonged to Lydia Wells?’
    Anna gaped at him.
    ‘Kindly answer the question,’ Devlin said. ‘I am referring to the five gowns which Mrs. Wells used to blackmail Mr. Alistair Lauderback, with Francis Carver’s help.’
    ‘What?’ she said.
    ‘The gowns,’ Devlin went on, ‘which each contained a small fortune in pure ore, stitched into the lining, around the bodice, and around the hem. One of these dresses was made of orange silk; the other four were muslin, and coloured cream, grey, pale blue, and striped pink. These four are currently stowed in a box beneath the stairs at the Gridiron Hotel; the orange gown is in the possession of Mr. Aubert Gascoigne, at his private residence.’
    He had her full attention now. ‘How do you know this?’ she whispered.
    ‘I have made it my business to find out a good deal about you,’ said Devlin. ‘Now answer the question.’
    Her face was pale. ‘Only the orange gown had gold,’ she said. ‘The other four had makeweights—made of lead.’
    ‘Did you know that they had once belonged to Lydia Wells?’
    ‘No,’ Anna said. ‘Not for sure.’
    ‘But you suspected it.’
    ‘I—I’d heard something,’ she said. ‘Months ago.’
    ‘When did you first discover what the gowns contained?’
    ‘The night after Emery disappeared.’
    ‘After you were gaoled for attempted suicide.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And Mr. Gascoigne paid your bail, on promise, and together you took apart the orange gown at his cottage on Revell-street, and hid the tatters under his bed, thereafter.’
    ‘How—?’ she whispered. She looked terrified.
    Devlin did not pause. ‘Presumably, after you returned to the Gridiron that evening, your first move was to go back to your wardrobe and check the four remaining gowns.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Anna. ‘But I didn’t cut them open. I only felt along the seams. I didn’t know that it was lead that I was feeling: I thought it was more colour.’
    ‘In that case,’ Devlin said, ‘you must have believed that you were suddenly extraordinarily rich.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘But you did not open the hems of those dresses, in order to use that gold to repay your debt to Edgar Clinch.’
    ‘Later, I did,’ said Anna. ‘The following week. That’s when I found the makeweights.’
    ‘But even then,’ Devlin said, ‘you did not tell Mr. Gascoigne what you surmised. Instead, you pretended helplessness and ignorance , claimed to have no money, and begged him for aid!’
    ‘How do you know all this?’ Anna said.
    ‘I will ask the questions, thank you,’ Devlin said. ‘What were you intending to do with that gold?’
    ‘I wanted to keep it back,’ Anna said. ‘As a nest egg. And I didn’t have anywhere to hide the metal. I thought I might ask Emery about it. There was no one else I trusted. But by then he was gone.’
    ‘What about Lydia Wells?’ Devlin said. ‘What about Lydia Wells, who came to the Gridiron that same afternoon—who paid your debt to Mr. Clinch—and who has shown you every kind of hospitality ever since?’
    ‘No.’ Anna’s voice had become very small.
    ‘You never told her about those gowns?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Because you suspected they had once belonged to her.’
    ‘I’d heard something,’ Anna said. ‘I never knew—not for certain —but I knew that there was something—and she was desirous to get them back.’
    Devlin folded his arms. Anna was plainly fearful of how much he knew about her situation, and how he had come to know it. This pained him, but he reflected that, given the circumstances, it was better to keep her frightened, than to risk her becoming bold. It would not do, to have her flapping that forged signature about.
    ‘Where is Mr. Staines?’ he said next.
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘I think you do.’
    ‘No,’ she said.
    ‘I shall remind you that you have committed serious fraud by forging a signature in a dead man’s hand.’
    ‘He’s not dead.’
    Devlin nodded; he had been hoping for a definite answer.