A Christmas Promise - Anne Perry [35]
He said nothing, but there was a flash of appreciation in his eyes that was worth more than words. Carefully he put the bottle to Rose’s lips and tipped it until a little of the liquid went into her mouth. She coughed, half-choked, and then took in a shaky breath.
“Rose!” he said firmly. “Rose! Wake up. You’re going to be all right. He’s gone and no one is going to hurt you again. Now breathe in and out, slowly.”
She did so, and opened her eyes. She must have known from his voice that he was not whoever had beaten her. He had a slight foreign accent, as if he came from somewhere very far away.
“Rose,” he said gently. “Who did this to you, and why?”
She shook her head a little, then winced at the pain. “I dunno,” she whispered.
“It is too late for lies,” he insisted. “Why?”
“I dunno.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “Some geezer just went mad an’ …”
Gracie bent down in front of her, anger and fear welling up inside her. “Course yer know, yer stupid mare!” she said furiously. “If yer don’t tell us about the casket, an’ ’oo took it, Minnie Maude’s going ter be killed too, jus’ like Alf, an’ it’ll be on yer ’ead. An’ nobody’s never gonna fer-give yer! Now spit it out, before I twist yer nose off.”
Balthasar opened his mouth, and then changed his mind and closed it again.
Rose stared in horror at Gracie.
Gracie put her hand out toward Rose’s face, and Rose flinched.
“A’ right!” she squawked. “It were a toff with mad eyes, like a bleedin’ lunatic. Proper gent, spoke like ’e ’ad a mouth full of ’ot pertaters. ’e wanted the gold box wot Alf gave me, and when I couldn’t give it to ’im, ’e beat the ’ell out o’ me.” She started to cry.
Gracie was overcome with pity. Rose looked awful, and must have been full of pain in just about every part of her. Balthasar had wound the end of a sheet around the worst bleeding, but even the sight of so much scarlet was frightening. But if the toff had Minnie Maude, then obviously he could just as easily do the same to her, or worse. And Alf was already dead.
“Why di’n’t yer give ’im the box?” Gracie demanded, her voice sharp, not with anger but with fear. “Wot’s in it worth bein’ killed fer?”
“Cos I don’t ’ave it, eedjit!” Rose snapped back at her. “Don’t yer think I’d ’ave given ’im the bleedin’ crown jools, if I’d ’ave ’ad them?”
Gracie was dismayed. “Then ’oo ’as?” she said hollowly.
“Stan. Cos them Chinamen came to ’is place and beat the bejesus out of ’im for the money. ’e came ’ere jus’ before. I reckon the bastard knew that lunatic were be’ind ’im, an’ ’e went out the back. Then a few minutes after, this other geezer came in the front an’ started in on me as soon as I din’ give ’im the box.”
“That is not the complete truth,” Balthasar said quietly. “It makes almost perfect sense. Clearly Alf gave you the box, just before he was killed. At the time, no one else knew that, but Stan worked it out. I daresay he knew Alf well enough to be aware of his association with you, so it was only a matter of time before he came here. We may assume that the toff was aware of this also, but not where you were, and therefore he followed Stan.”
“‘ Ow’d ’e know about Stan?” Rose looked at him awkwardly. Her cheek where she had been struck was swelling up, and one eye was rapidly closing. In a day or two the bruises would look much worse.
Balthasar glanced at Gracie, then back to Rose. “I think we can deduce that Stan was the one who placed the casket and its contents on the road near where the toff was waiting for the opportunity to pick it up. He hid in order that whoever dropped off the box would not see him. His addiction is not something he would care to have widely known, or his association with such people. When his addiction is under control, I daresay he is a man of some substance, and possibly of repute, and would then look much like anyone else. We are seeing him when he has been deprived of his