Seven Dials Page 0,26

said gravely. "There's someone as is missing."

He offered her his arm, and impatiently she took it, then found to her surprise that it was rather pleasant. She noticed that he shortened his step to make it easier for her to match stride with him. She smiled, then realized he had seen it, and became instantly sober again. It would not do to let him know it mattered. "It's me friend, Tilda Garvie," she said in a businesslike tone. " 'Er brother Martin 'as gone from the 'ouse 'e works in. Said nothin' to 'er, nor to no one else, just gone. Three days now."

Tellman pursed his lips, his face dark, brows drawn together. He walked with his shoulders a little hunched as if his muscles were tight. It was a fine evening, but the lamps were lit and the wind gusting up from the river smelled damp. The street was quiet, just one carriage in the distance, turning the corner away from them, and in the other direction a couple of men arguing good-naturedly.

"People leave jobs," Tellman said cautiously. "More likely he was dismissed. Could be a lot of reasons, not necessarily his fault."

" 'E'd 'ave told 'er!" Gracie said quickly. "It were 'er birthday, an' 'e never sent 'er a card nor flowers nor nothin'."

"People forget birthdays," he dismissed it. "Even when there's nothing wrong, let alone if they're out of a job and a roof over their heads!" he argued, his voice impatient.

She knew he was angry with the injustice of the dependence, not with her, but it still irritated her, perhaps because she did not want it to be true, and there was a whisper of fear at the back of her mind. She was not prepared to hear a policeman's view of it.

" 'E's never forgotten 'er birthday before," she retorted, keeping up with him with an effort. He was unaware that he was walking more rapidly. "Never ever, since 'e were eight years old!" she added.

"Perhaps he'd never been thrown out of a job before," he pointed out.

"If 'e were thrown out, why didn't the butler say so?" she countered, still holding on to his arm.

"Probably because household matters like that were none of his business," he answered. "A good butler wouldn't discuss domestic unpleasantness with an outsider. Surely you know that even better than I do?" He shot a sideways glance at her, a very slight twist to his lips, as if it were a question. They had argued about the dependence of a servant upon pleasing a master or mistress, and how fragile was the safety of the warmth, the food, the roof over their heads.

"I know wot yer talkin' about!" Gracie said crossly, pulling her arm away from his. "An' I'm sick o' tellin' yer that it in't always like that! O' course there's bad 'ouses an' bad people in 'em. But there's good 'ouses too. Can yer see Mrs. Pitt ever puttin' me out inter the street 'cos I overslept or was cheeky an' answered back... or anythin' else, for that matter?" Her voice rang with challenge. "You daresay as yer could, an' I'll make yer wish yer'd never opened yer mouth!"

"Of course not!" he retorted, and stopping abruptly, pulled her over to the side of the pavement near the wall and away from the two men now walking towards them. "But that's different. If Martin left the Garrick house, then it was for a reason. He was obliged to or he chose to. Either way, it's not a police matter, unless the Garricks place a charge against him. And I imagine that's the last thing Tilda wants?"

"A charge o' wot?" she said furiously. " 'E in't done nothin'! 'E's just disappeared-don't you listen ter nothin' I say? Nobody knows where 'e is!"

"No," he corrected. "Tilda doesn't know where he is."

"The butler don't know neither!" she said exasperatedly. "Nor the bootboy!"

"The butler isn't telling Tilda, and why on earth should the bootboy know?" he said reasonably.

She was beginning to feel a kind of desperation. She did not want to quarrel with Tellman but she was on the brink of it and could not help herself. They were on the corner of the main thoroughfare now and the noise in the street rumbled past them, wheels, hooves, voices. People passed back and forth, one man so close as to brush Gracie's back. Tilda's fear had caught hold of her and she was losing her ability to think without panic overtaking her.

" 'Cos