Chapter 17
It had been two gruelling days for Robert. He had been to the house only once to change into clothes that didn't smell like sooth. He had run out immediately after that he hadn't gotten any sleep the previous night. He might have dozed off in this chair for a while, he wasn't entirely sure.
He wasn't entirely sure when he had last eaten.
The butler had sent a note when Chelsey had arrived. He wished he had been there. He shifted in his seat. He had been sitting at the police station for an hour now. He looked at his watch. It was over an hour now. Three different constables had interviewed him. Asked the same questions until he almost lost his patience.
It was night now he had to go his offices again. There were two ships that were in the docks because their papers had gone up in flames; fully stocked with cargo and ready to sail. If he was not able to get them to sail in two days there will be even more. Each hour the ships stayed in port the more money he lost. One of his ships was due to arrive tomorrow which would add to his headache.
Although his staff here were competent enough they had only been working with the company for only the few months he had been here. He was the only person who knew the business in and out and there fore it was essential for him to be there.
They were very sure foul play was involved in but he didn't want to disclose his suspicion towards the Earl of Westly. He had come to London fully intending to disclose the information but he was going to hire private investigators for the matter. If he publicly accused Westly it would hurt Chelsey more than her father and he didn't want that. If he found proof, he would come to the police with proof. But not Pickens he thought. He would find someone else.
A new smaller premise had been hired to function as his new office and any and every document that that can be salvaged was being shifted there. Moore had managed to get furniture from some place he had told him not to worry about cost and just make sure the office was functional.
Loxley had not been at his house when he had got back. An urgent matter had callers him to the country. He had left a note for him.
Another hour later he was informed that they had everything they needed. And would contact him if need be.
As soon as he came out he saw Loxleys carriage parked he walked and over.
The footman opened the door. And he climbed in.
"Come on in" Loxley said. I went to your office as soon as I got your note. Moore told me that you suspected foul play. He said, worried. "How are you my friend?" He held out his hand.
Robert shook his hand and settled back in to the opposite seat. He was tired. The chairs at the police station were not for relaxing. He might have dosed in one of those hellish things. His back ached. "I'm doing as well as can be expected. About foul play I have my suspicions but its not like I can tell the police."
"Why do you suspect Westly."
Loxley knew a vague summery of Robert past. He had told his friend Westly was responsible for his fathers death.
It was when he had come to London. He had corresponded with Loxley by letters regarding business matters. They had become fast friends when Robert had come to London.
But everyone starts suspecting when you go after one single person. And that was what Robert had done with Westly.
Loxley was a straight forward fellow. He asked as he saw. He wasn't one of those people to say one thing and do another. So one day he had asked if Robert meant to drive Westly to the ground. And he had told him yes and that Westly was responsible for his fathers death.
