“Monsieur Pilcrow is not paying him a sou,” he said. “In my opinion, the Laxton would need to hold him at gunpoint to get money from him. If he says otherwise, he lies.”
Gaskin nodded slowly. “Well, now. I’ll be honest, that’s disappointed me. Thank you, Comte, very good of you. More gin? Then come again, any time.”
Eve let out a long breath as they headed back to Carey Street. “That wasn’t fun.”
“No.”
“I thought I’d feel better with him paid off.”
“If we’d paid him off with Chilcott Baynes’s money, you’d feel marvellous right now,” Nico said. “So would I.”
“Piece of shit,” Eve muttered. It wasn’t clear if that referred to Gaskin, Baynes, or Nico, but any of those would be fair. “Why’d you help him?”
“Gaskin? He’s helping me.”
“What? You told him—”
“Laxton murdered Miss Whitecross,” Nico said. “Now with any luck Gaskin will make an example of Laxton, and serve him fucking well right. She deserved better. I’m glad I could do that on my way out.”
“Nasty,” Eve said. “But fair. You’re sure—”
“Yes. Titus will want me gone, and I don’t blame him.”
Eve’s head dropped. “I’m sorry, Nic. I dragged you into this.”
“No, I volunteered, just like you would for me ifIhad a bloody stupid idea that was obviously going to go wrong, you utter clown.”
“It was a good idea!” Eve protested. “It could have worked. And you couldn’t have done more, and I’m so sorry I fucked it up with Titus for you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Nico said. “I fucked it up with Titus all by myself.”
When they returned to Carey Street, Mr. Thorpe emerged from down the hall and gave Nico the kind of glare he deserved. “Mr. Pilcrow is in the parlour and wishes to see you at once.”
Titus was indeed there, sitting staring at the wall. Nico didn’t think he was looking at the painting on it.
“Mon ami. Your brother has left?”
“Yes. He took offence because I snatched a treasure from under his nose out of a vengeful desire to flaunt my wealth.”
“If he believes that, he does not know you at all.”
“Oh, be fair,” Titus said. “What else was he supposed to think? I could have bought your painting at any time and instead I did it only when he wanted it, and in such a flashy manner, making an offer he couldn’t possibly match. Putting myself forward in the worst way. And of course I could not explain why I could not let him or Mr. Baynes buy it, so naturally he thinks I acted out of malice, and I daresay I will not hear from him again.”
“I’m very sorry. That is my fault.”
“Yes, it is. I don’t suppose he and I ever stood a chance of making things better, but I would have preferred them not to be so much worse.”
Nico could not really summon up any guilt for that; he was using it all already. Instead he took a deep breath and said, “Why did you make that offer?”
“You know very well why.”
Nico had a number of suspicions, and a tiny faint wisp of hope, the wretched bedraggled thing in the corner of Pandora’s box, whispering that perhaps it might not be that bad, perhaps there could yet be a miracle. “Could you just tell me?”
“Because of the daffodils in your painting.”
Nico had not expected that. “Should there… not be daffodils?”
“The daffodils aren’t the problem. It’s that they’re painted in chrome yellow. It’s an unmistakable colour, sharp and strident, with an acid sort of flavour. You often get that with the new artificial pigments.”