in storage, safely locked away. Both the inventories verified that fact.
Now there were only three. Since the last inventory had been taken, one of the Cutler muzzle-loaders was missing.
“Isn’t that interesting?” Nutall stroked his pencil-thin mustache thoughtfully.
It was a grimy business, taking inventory of every prop and trick in storage cage C. Although everything the Great Cutler had in storage was still functional, none of it inspired any brilliant ideas for a new routine. By the time they had finished, both Thalia and Nutall needed soap and hot water.
“You think Von Faber got the rifle from us?” Even as Madame Ostrova blazed with indignation, she took them back upstairs to scrub off their accumulated grime in the washroom. Once they were back in her office, she told them, “The Ostrova Magic Company does not make this kind of mistake. I will find out who is responsible. I will find out how this happened.”
“We know you will,” Thalia assured her. “We trust you.”
“I need to talk to the children.”
“You missed a spot.” As Madame Ostrova left the office, Nutall took out his handkerchief and rubbed at Thalia’s chin, leaning close to murmur, “I think I can persuade her to compensate us with a new trick. Make yourself scarce so I can work on her alone.”
Thalia thought about the inventory’s complete list of distinguishing marks on the guns. If they could prove Von Faber’s muzzle-loader had come from the Cutler inventory, they could bring charges against him for theft. What use would his noncompete clause be then? “I’ll go around to the Imperial Theater and find out who handles his props for him. I’ll ask a few questions.”
“Not without me, you won’t,” muttered Nutall. “I’ll tell Madame Ostrova that you have an appointment for a costume fitting. I’ll meet you back at the boardinghouse.”
“Oh, very well.” Thalia looked around for her outdoor things. “If the sun is really out, it’s a good day for a stroll. I’ll shop a bit.”
“Perfect. Just don’t talk to any strangers.” Smiling, Nutall tapped his nose and waved Thalia off as Madame Ostrova returned. “Now, about that rifle.”
* * *
Thalia emerged into brilliant daylight. While she had been indoors, the weather had well and truly cleared. The streets were still busy, but the morning press of activity had passed. As she set out, she minutely adjusted the brim of her hat to account for the sun. Time to study the finer points of the coming season’s fashions. The windows at Stern Brothers were on her way. She could see what people were really wearing while she walked there, considering the next move.
Deploying lawyers against Von Faber would be expensive. Deploying a charge of theft might actually get them somewhere. Thalia trusted Nutall to speak with Madame Ostrova. Once he’d finished, they would discuss what to do next.
“Ah, Miss Cutler. Forgive the intrusion.” Thalia turned to discover Mr. Nathaniel Ryker at her side, spectacles glinting in the sun. “I know your time is valuable, but I beg you will spare me a few minutes.” He gave her his flicker of a smile. “As I said, I was lucky enough to see you perform last night. A friend insisted I accompany him to the Majestic. I am so glad I did. You were, um, spellbinding.”
“Thank you.” Thalia was acutely aware that for someone to tell her she had been, um, spellbinding was not quite the same as telling her she’d been good. At Madame Ostrova’s, the man had been in unfamiliar territory. His diffidence had been charming. Now, he seemed to own the street. Diffidence was gone, replaced by the smug self-assurance of a Trader. “You are too kind.”
“I hope you and your associate Mr. Nutall will accept my escort home.” Ryker pushed his spectacles firmly in place as he gestured toward a waiting carriage, complete with liveried coachman. “Permit me to share my resources.”
Nutall’s words came back to Thalia. Don’t talk to any strangers. She was wary, but she could not resist the chance to really look at the man. So this was what a polite Trader looked like. Had her mother’s parents been like this? Had her mother? Thalia scolded herself. How had she ever wasted a moment believing she was a Trader?
Ryker’s wealth was written in not only the quality of his clothing but the care with which it was kept. His boots were glossy. His hat was glossy. Thalia decided his glossy wire-rimmed spectacles made his brown eyes seem larger than they actually were.