The Truth About Verity Sparks Read Free Page A

inevitable. Search her, sir!”
    “Crewel?” Mr Plush held out his hand.
    Mistress and maid locked eyes, and I saw Lady Throttle give a tiny shake of her head.
    “Surely, Lady Throttle, if there is any chance of a mistake?” pleaded Mr Plush. “I know that a lady such as yourself would not wish to falsely accuse this young person, however dubious her ancestry.”
    My what? Never mind that. Grabbing my chance, I snatched up the bag and handed it to Mr Plush.
    His hand hovered over it. “I need your permission, Lady Throttle.”
    “Which I do not give.” Lady Throttle snarled. For a pretty little thing, I thought, she can come up ugly all right. “Hand it over, and
search the brat
.”
    Mr Plush bowed. “Of course, Lady Throttle.” But somehow, in the handing over, he fumbled and dropped it, and out onto the threadbare carpet rolled a hair comb, three gold-wrapped chocolates, a couple of sovereigns – and the Throttle diamond.
    “My God!” cried Lady Throttle. “Crewel, you idiot. Why did you not tell me you’d put it in my purse?”
    “I … I …” stammered the maid, and dodged as Lady Throttle threw a small clock at her. A silver hairbrush and a cut-glass perfume bottle followed, then Lady Throttle flung herself into the armchair and began drumming her heels on the floor like a child having a temper tantrum.
    “You’d best go,” said Crewel sourly, and opened the door.
    I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I hurtled down the stairs and into the hall. It was empty, but when I opened the front door I nearly collided with the master of the house. Sir Bertram looked down at me with surprise.
    “What’s this?” he said.
    I pushed past him and ran as fast as I could.
    “Hey, you!” I heard him shouting, but I was down the street and round the corner already.

    I ran for two blocks, then I sat in the gutter and up came my lunch. After I’d heaved a few times I just sat there, trembling. My hands were still tingling, ever so slightly, and I held them out in front of me and stared at them.
    Itchy fingers. That had come first. And then suddenly, with no shadow of a doubt, I’d known where the brooch was. It had been like a picture in my mind’s eye, clear and sharp and certain and sure. But there was no way I
could
have known that the brooch was in the purse. It was true I’d always been good at finding things, but not like that. And I’d never before had itchy fingers.
    “Miss?”
    I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stood up. Mr Saddington Plush gave a quick bow.
    “Miss Sparks, I–”
    I backed away from him. “
Miss Sparks
all of a sudden, is it? What do you want with me? I ain’t going back there.”
    “No one wants you to go back there, Miss Sparks,” he said. He was puffing slightly. “I simply wanted to apologise.”
    “What?”
    “Say sorry.”
    “Why should I say sorry? I never done it. It was the maid, Crewel; I saw her put the brooch in the bag.”
    “No, you didn’t.”
    I stared at him.
    “How did you know where it was, Miss Sparks?”
    “I dunno what you mean.”
    He sighed. “Have it your own way,” he muttered. He fished in his inner pocket, brought out a little rectangle of pasteboard and handed it to me.
    “It’s my card,” he said. “I’d like to discuss this matter with you further. At your convenience. Feel free to contact me. Any time.”
    I glanced at it.
    Saddington Plush and Son, Con–
    Continental-something-or-other. I popped it in my pocket and turned to walk away.
    “Let me detain you just one instant further, Miss Sparks,” he said. He took my hand and folded it around a couple of coins. “If you continue along this street, and then turn left, you will be able to find a cab for your journey home.”
    Never take money from a gentleman, Cook had warned me. Evil designs, she said. But I was too tired to walk and too tired to care about designs, evil or otherwise.
    “Thank you, sir,” I said.
    “I shall expect to see you, Miss Verity