She looked up; for one instant he glimpsed relief, then her face, her expression, tightened. “Ben’s…” She gestured helplessly, plainly torn over what word to use. “Gone.”
The tremor, the underlying panic in her voice, shook him.
Harry had swung around; he met Gervase’s eyes as Gervase halted beside Madeline, taking her hand, holding it, not releasing it. “We don’t know what’s happened. Ben’s disappeared, and we don’t know where he is.” Anguish colored Harry’s eyes and voice.
Years of experience took over. Gervase dropped his other hand onto Harry’s shoulder, gripped. “Take a deep breath, then start at the beginning.”
Edmond’s eyes, too, were wide, his expression stricken.
Drawing in a huge breath, Harry held it for an instant, then said, “We rode to Helston midmorning. We thought we should check whether there’d been any more rumors about the tin mines. We went down to the Pig & Whistle—it’s the best place to learn things like that, and we knew we’d meet some of the other lads there, the ones who tell us things.”
Gervase nodded. “It’s a rough but useful place.” The Pig & Whistle was one of the taverns along the old Helston docks.
Relief washed through Harry’s eyes. “Exactly. But, of course, because it’s so rough we didn’t want to take Ben into the tap with us—and anyway, Old Henry, the innkeeper, doesn’t like ‘nippers’ brought in.”
“Perfectly understandable.” Madeline leaned forward, meeting first Harry’s, then Edmond’s eyes. “I don’t blame either of you in the least for leaving Ben outside.”
She’d had a moment—a moment Gervase’s arrival had granted her, his stalwart presence had allowed her—to assimilate what she’d learned. A minute to grasp the implications as well as the horror, and focus on what had to be done. Having Harry and Edmond sinking under unnecessary guilt was the last thing she needed.
“So you left Ben outside,” Gervase said. “Where, exactly?”
“He was sitting on the bench along the front of the tavern when we went in,” Edmond said. “He was happy as a grig, swinging his legs and watching the boats on the river. He didn’t want to come inside—he doesn’t like the smoke and the smells.” Edmond’s voice quavered. “That was the last we saw of him.”
Harry swallowed, nodded. “When we came out, he was nowhere in sight.”
“How long were you in the tavern?” Gervase asked.
Harry and Edmond exchanged glances. “Half an hour?” Harry looked up at Gervase. “Forty minutes at most. We came out with Tom Pachel and Johnny Griggs, and Ben was gone.”
“We searched—all four of us,” Edmond said. “The others helped when they realized we were worried.”
“The more we searched, still others joined in.” Harry took up the tale. “We covered the entire docks, but there was no sign of Ben anywhere. That’s when Abel—Johnny had fetched him—said we should ride home while the rest of them kept looking.” Harry glanced at Madeline. “Abel said we should find you and tell you.”
She gave mute thanks for Abel Griggs. She glanced at Gervase. “They arrived only a few minutes before you.”
He nodded.
She tensed to rise from the desk, but through his hold on her hand Gervase halted her. He met her gaze briefly, then turned again to the boys. “Through all the searching, did anyone say anything at all about seeing Ben wander off, or seeing someone approach him, speak with him—anything like that?”
Harry glanced at Edmond, then looked at Gervase. “Old Eddie was the only one who said he saw Ben, but, well”—Harry grimaced—“you know Old Eddie. You can’t trust anything he says after midday, and he was well away by the time we talked to him.”
Old Eddie was one of the town drunks.
“Never mind his state,” Gervase said. “Tell me what he said.”
“He said a flash cove came up to the bench and spoke with Ben, not just a hello—they had a conversation. Eddie said it was all sunny and happy as you please. And then Ben upped and went off with the man.”
Gervase frowned. “A flash cove? Eddie used those words?”
Harry nodded. “I suppose he meant a flashily dressed gentleman.”
Gervase didn’t reply; Madeline glanced at him in time to see the muscle in his jaw clench. Glancing sideways, he met her eyes, hesitated as if he wanted to explain, then he shook his head infinitesimally and turned back to Harry and Edmond. “No other sighting, nothing at all?”
Harry shook his head.
Edmond wriggled. “Mrs. Heggarty said she saw a man and a boy walking up her street—the one past Coinagehall Street—but she couldn’t say if it was Ben or not. She’s blind as a bat, so it could have been anyone. She couldn’t say anything about the man.”
Madeline had heard enough. She looked at Milsom, waiting by the door, opened her mouth to ask for Artur to be saddled—only to hear Gervase say, “Before we go haring back to Helston there’s things we should do—arrangements which will make finding Ben easier, quicker and more certain.”