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again, I’ll tell you.” They sat in silence for a minute or so, sipping at their tea. She decided to breach the silence again.

“What did you see from your end, Byron? In the smuggling hold?”

“Well Mira, while you explored, I examined the powder on the ground. It’s mostly white but had some other particles in it. Traces of black, brown, and grey. I took a few samples and placed them in an envelope I had.” He paused and took the envelope from his pocket, placing it on the table. He looked back at her. “That was around the time I noticed you were gone and that the door was opening. I looked around for you, hiding behind crates. I was about four crates behind you when they found you. I heard what they said, and I watched them take you out. I was able to keep to the outside edges while they were distracted, and I hid behind the wagon. From there it was just a matter of following where they took you, which was to Schwarz and Son’s Butchery. I waited across the street for a while, gauging who came in and out. I knew they had knocked you out, so I had a little bit of time. Eventually, I decided that I had a chance, and I came in after you. You know the rest.”

“I’m glad you didn’t get caught.”

“As am I. I’m afraid I’m a little more well-known than you are, and then your French would have been in vain.” He glanced at her before continuing.

“Now then, back to the case. We know Pennington was disappearing to that cargo hold. That’s the only place he could have been going.”

“But why, Byron?”

“You’re asking the right questions. He could have been helping them smuggle. Or he may have just stumbled across it as you did. He could have been curious. But that may have been his fatal mistake.”

“But if he found it in March, that is the time that he started disappearing after all, wouldn’t he have been killed then? Didn’t Mr. Gill say that he didn’t have any family or anyone? No one would have missed him.” She thought back to the woman’s speech about murder and shivered.

“Maybe no one knew he had found it. Or it was just that he was helping them to smuggle the goods. After all that was when the influx of money came as well.”

“But Byron, the money kept coming after he quit. And he had been working for Vaporidge for several months before the influx.”

“Hmm. You are right about that. So where was it coming from?”

“What about that stash in the piano? Could he still have become a cat burglar? He must have known how to use lockpicks to get down to the smuggling hold.”

“I suppose. But that doesn’t fit in with him disappearing, though. The pieces aren’t fitting.” He placed his index fingers on his temples and rubbed them in circles.

“Was he stealing whatever they were smuggling and selling it? That would be a reason for them to kill him off,” Mira said.

“It would, but then why would he quit? That wouldn’t make sense. He’d be away from his supply of goods.”

Mira pursed her lips. They were getting nowhere. Byron yawned.

“Byron, you need to sleep.”

“Mira, if I sleep, I’m going to forget.”

“You were just up all night. And you were up late two nights ago as well.”

“Was I? I don’t feel the strain.” He yawned again.

“You are yawning left and right. The case can wait for the moment. You need to sleep.”

“Alright. I’ll take a nap if you promise me one thing, Mira.”

“Anything.”

“That you will be here when I wake up again. I don’t want you going home alone. Not after what just happened.”

She paused and then nodded. “Very well.”

Byron nodded back, then picked up his journal. He wrote a few things in it and then set it off to the side. “There is a possibility that my memory won’t reset. Usually it is only when I sleep for long periods of time.” He laid back and closed his eyes.

“Then I guess we’ll hope for that.” She pulled out her sketchbook to keep herself occupied.

“Yes, we’ll hope.” Byron went a bit limp. It hadn’t taken much for sleep to overcome him. Mira watched as he breathed deeply. Up and down. Did he dream? Of course, she would never know because he probably never remembered his dreams. She herself seldom remembered hers, and she didn’t have his problem with memory.

She drew for a while and then prepared some food in the kitchen. A famished hunger had taken up residence in her stomach. She hadn’t eaten since the evening before, and it had to be midafternoon by this point.

When she was fed, she came back into the living room. He was still asleep. She went over to the filing system and pulled out all his notes on the case that weren’t in his journal. She wrote down the events and then sorted them into chronological order.

September 1887- Clement Pennington started work for the Vaporidge Steamship Company

Early March 1888- He became more withdrawn. Most likely found the smuggling quarters.

Late March- The influx of money appeared in his account.

April- He and Molly Bridges met and started to court.

July- He quit his job. The influx of money continued.

September- I met Byron. Pennington is found dead. His lodgings burglarized. We started solving the crime. I was kidnapped by smugglers.

She looked at these events for a moment and then decided to focus in on the day of the murder. September 9.

September 9

Eight o’clock (p.m.) Molly Bridges comes to Clement’s place.

They make dinner, have champagne and chocolates. Have an argument.

Nine-thirty Molly Bridges leaves Clement’s place.

Ten o’clock Burglar comes. Clement apparently isn’t there.

September 10

Eleven o’clock (a.m.) Landlord finds Pennington dead.

She looked at everything she had written. She had to assume that everyone was telling the truth. Then she would be able to find where things didn’t fit. Was an hour and a half long enough to make dinner, eat, clean

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