She was at least ten years younger than her husband, with a milky complexion, rosy cheeks and blue eyes. Matt told Mrs. Trentham about the theft, then pointedly asked her if her husband had returned home after the soiree.
“Afterwards? Yes, of course.” She sounded relieved.
“Immediately afterwards?” Matt pressed.
She hesitated and glanced at her husband. He gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Yes.”
“I’m not a fool.” Matt addressed them both, his tone not unkind although I’d heard him infuse more ice into it during questionings. “Mr. Trentham, leave the room.”
“No! This my workshop. You may leave.” He drew himself up, but he was rather shorter than Matt and not at all authoritative.
Matt didn’t move.
Mrs. Trentham laid a hand on her husband’s arm before letting it fall away. She picked up a doll from a shelf and stroked its hair. “We ought to tell them the truth. It proves you weren’t out thieving, so I think we must.”
Mr. Trentham glanced at me and swallowed. “Please don’t think ill of me, Mrs. Glass.”
Is that why he’d lied? Because he worried what I thought? How curious. “I won’t judge you. Not if you tell the truth.”
He blew out a breath. “I was at the Toymaker’s Guild most of the night. I arrived home at dawn this morning.”
“You were there all night?” Matt asked. “Doing what?”
“Playing cards, drinking, smoking.” He bit the inside of his lip as he looked at me through his lashes. “I never wager more than I can afford to lose. It’s just an innocent way to spend an evening with friends. My wife doesn’t mind, do you, my dear?”
She smiled. “It’s his evening to himself. I don’t begrudge him that. We have no children yet, so I don’t mind if he makes a little wager with friends over cards. It’s harmless enough.”
“Then why not admit it when I first questioned you?” Matt asked.
Mr. Trentham blushed. “Your wife is something of an idol to me, sir. I didn’t want her thinking me a poor husband.”
“The only person whose opinion you should worry about is your wife’s.” Matt put out his elbow for me to take. “We’ll be following this up with your guild.”
“Of course. The thief must be caught.” He frowned. “Why aren’t the police investigating?”
“Due to the magical nature of the crime, we’re not involving the police at this point. But we will, when an arrest needs to be made.”
“Good, good.” Mr. Trentham let his fingers run over the spine of the train carriages. He breathed deeply, no doubt taking comfort from the toy as I did when I touched a timepiece. “You ought to investigate Nicholas Mirnov. If anyone would covet one of Mrs. Glass’s spells, it would be him.”
“Mr. Trentham!” his wife scolded. “You can’t accuse him of everything.”
“Not everything, just this crime. He probably heard about the work of Mrs. Glass and Mr. Charbonneau and, like many other magicians, assumed a spell was indeed created. The man is from thieving stock; it’s no stretch to assume he broke into Mr. Charbonneau’s house. If I were you, I’d look at him.”
Mrs. Trentham threw a censorial glare at her husband and he simply shrugged in return. It was she who showed us out through the shopfront to the door, giving us the opportunity to ask her questions without her husband being present.
“What do you think of Mr. Mirnov being the thief?” I asked her. “What’s he like?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met him.”
“Oh?”
“Mr. Trentham and I have been married just shy of two years. The curse was put on my husband’s magic several years beforehand, and it’s safe to say they’ve had little to do with one another since, except for a few guild meetings.”
“The guild don’t know either of them are magicians?”
“Goodness no. Neither would be allowed to sell their toys if they did. I don’t know about Mr. Mirnov but my husband keeps his magic well hidden. Indeed, he rarely uses it.”
We thanked her and climbed into our waiting carriage. Matt directed Woodall to take us home rather than to the Toymaker Guild’s hall. He wanted to speak to Duke first.
“I’m sure Mr. Trentham’s alibi is solid,” I said as the carriage jerked to a start. “He didn’t look particularly worried about telling us after he got over his embarrassment.”
Matt gave me a wry smile. “How strange that he was worried you would think less of him for staying out all night drinking and gambling.”
“He isn’t to know I’m used to it.”
“I think Trentham’s a little in love with you.”
I laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He grunted but he was still smiling.
“What do you think of him blaming Mirnov for the theft?” I asked.
“A man who happens to be his rival and who he claims put a curse on him? It’s very suspicious.”
“You still don’t believe in curses, do you?”
“I’m on the fence.”
I wasn’t entirely sure I believed either, but Mr. Trentham certainly did. “Setting aside his quick accusation, we can easily find out if Mr. Trentham is lying about his whereabouts last night.”
“Indeed. We’ll call on the guild this afternoon, and then we’ll go in search of Mirnov.”
“You think Mr. Trentham’s accusation has merit?”
“None whatsoever, but I’m wildly curious about the curse.”
After giving Duke instructions to subtly question Jane, Fabian’s maid, Matt and I departed again for the Toymaker’s Guild. Squeezed between modern, taller buildings, the thin, half-Tudor timber structure on a lane near St Paul’s looked like the creation of one of its member’s young customers. Each level leaned a little more than the one below it so that the entire structure resembled a stack of blocks. The effect was rather charming.
The white-whiskered porter who answered Matt’s knock invited us inside with a welcoming smile. He was dressed in the scarlet tunic of a redcoat soldier complete with tricorne hat. The livery made him look like a toy soldier, which was probably the intention.
“My name is Matthew Glass and this is my wife, India,” Matt said. “Will you—”
“Glass? Mrs. India Glass?” The porter gave me a thorough inspection. “You don’t look like a magician.”
Matt tensed, and I thought it best to speak before he said something cutting that put the fellow in an unhelpful mood.
“Magicians come in all shapes and sizes,” I said. “Very few of us carry wands or have warts.”
The porter’s whiskers twitched with his fleeting smile. “I was told not to let you in.”
“Why? Are they worried I’ll turn you into a frog?”
“The guild master says you’re a danger to the integrity of the guild and its members, and if you happen to come here, you’re to be turned away.”
“What does he think I’m going to do?” I posed the question to Matt rather than the porter. Neither had an answer for me, however.