early the next morning, because by the time Sebastian arrived shortly after breakfast, he was already gory up to his elbows and had his hands deep in Sir Lindsey’s chest.
“Bow Street told you how the men were found?” asked Sebastian, trying not to look too closely at what Gibson was doing.
The surgeon lifted Forbes’s dripping heart from his chest and set it aside in a shallow basin. “They did. Not sure I believe it, though.”
Sebastian transferred his gaze to the ceiling. “Oh? Why not?”
Gibson grinned. “Part of it’s the angle of the shot. They’re saying Forbes was knifed first, then fell and somehow managed to shoot Brownbeck. But if that were true, then the bullet should have been traveling up from below when it hit his body, and it wasn’t. It was obviously fired by someone who was standing.”
Sebastian shifted his gaze to where the banker’s naked, eviscerated body lay on one of the wide shelves running along the back of the room. “It’s possible Forbes could have shot Brownbeck before he fell. I’ve seen men stabbed in the heart run a couple of hundred feet before collapsing.”
Gibson reached for a rag and wiped his hands. “I suppose. But that’s only the first thing.” He turned to pick up the knife that lay on the shelf beside the bloody basin. “This is what’s really telling. Look at the knife your East India Company man had in him.” It was a small, common knife with a simple horn handle and a wide blade some six inches long.
“Now, look at this.” Setting the knife aside, Gibson grabbed the dead man’s shoulder and rolled the body onto its side.
Sebastian found himself staring at a small purple slit high up between the man’s shoulder blades. “Bloody hell. The blade went all the way through him.”
“It did. And if you’ll notice, it was a narrow blade. A very narrow blade.”
“What are you saying?”
Gibson eased the body back down. “I’m saying I think your man was killed with either a dagger or, more likely, a sword stick. And then, after he was dead, the killer thrust that knife into him and left it there to make it look like that’s what was used.”
“Huh.” Sebastian went to stand at the open door, his gaze on the clouds that were beginning to blow away and reveal patches of blue sky.
Gibson watched him. “That’s all you have to say? Huh?”
Sebastian turned, his hands dangling loose at his sides, a feeling of helpless frustration welling within him. “I know exactly who did this. But I’ll be damned if I can figure out how to prove it.”
Chapter 57
A fter leaving Tower Hill, Sebastian drove first to the Bell in Warwick Lane. Having moved on to Mayfair, he had a brief but useful conversation with LaRivière’s servants. Then he headed back toward the Tower again, this time to the ancient, picturesque church of St. Dunstan-in-the-East.
Drawing up outside the old lych-gate, he handed the reins to Tom and said, “If he kills me, you know what to tell Sir Henry.”
Tom scrambled forward to the high seat. “Ye don’t think ye meybe oughta let Sir ’Enry know what yer doin’ before ye talk to that Frog?”
Sebastian smiled as he hopped down into the narrow lane. “Somehow I doubt Sir Henry would approve of what I’m about to do.”
Lying between Great Tower Street and the Thames, St. Dunstan’s was one of the few medieval London churches to have survived the Great Fire of 1666. The afternoon was glorious, with high, puffy white clouds scattered across a brilliant blue sky and a light breeze that took the sting out of the sun’s heat. Gilbert-Christophe de LaRivière, the Count de Compans, sat on a stool in the midst of the vast old churchyard, a sketchbook propped on one knee and a small folding table at his side to hold an elegant but well-used case containing various drawing implements. A sword stick leaned conspicuously against the table, for this was a rough section of London and the churchyard was deserted. He had his eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun, a faint smile curling his lips as he rendered the old church with quick, sure strokes.
“Nice day for it,” said Sebastian, walking up to him.
“It is,” agreed the Count, his attention all for his sketch. “I assume you’ve gone to the bother of tracking me here for a reason?”
Sebastian let his gaze drift around the quiet, leafy cemetery’s mass of gray, lichen-covered tombs and crowded headstones. “You’ve