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22. suspect

Gilbert stood there, his heart jumping in his chest.

A tingle of heat ran up his spine. Dread. Was this the end? If Anne was linked to the heist then she'd be taken away. At best she'd be thrown back into that awful orphanage where she'd be abused all over again. At worst she'd go to a juvinile prison.

He'd never see her again.

"What's that?" Asked Diana, pointing at the fabric Thomson held. Her curt tone shattered Gilbert's daze.

Diana and Gilbert both knew exactly what the bloodstained tatters of brown fabric were and where they came from, but Thomson didn't know this. He was piecing it all together and even the slightest thing could lead him to the truth. So they both assumed ignorance.

Thomson faltered, looking at the imperious girl. The sunlight filtered through the tall trees, highlighting the hesitancy in his untrusting eyes. The sun was going down, the sky beginning to tinge golden and orange. Hints of pinks swirled through the clouds, toning a rosy haze on the scene.

"Evidence." Thomson told her. "It's very important. It could lead me to the suspect of a case I'm investigating."

"It's nothing." Gilbert said, developing a confident tone that hid his nerves. "Just a scrap of fabric. You are mistaken."

"It is proof." Thomson insisted.

"Proof of what?" Diana prompted.

Gilbert glanced at the dark-haired girl. She was holding herself in that way, her chin up high, shoulders back. She was taking charge of the situation. In theory, Thomson had to do as she said. She was the eldest daughter of his master. Did she outrank him? Despite his age? Gilbert wasn't sure about the rules and ways of the upper class, but maybe there was hope?

"Well, I..." Thomson hesitated again, before gathering his confidence. He knew he was right. "It was found in Mr Barry's chest here. Whoever it belongs to was the one who took the goods. Then also there was a piece on the horse too, which came from these woods."

Thomson looked at Gilbert expectantly.

"Remember the cloth which I found on the horse? It matches -- look."

Confidence renewed, Thomson scrambled to pull the second strip from inside his pocket. It matched the new piece exactly, there was no mistake. Even the stitching lined up. Gilbert's mouth felt dry. He knew what Thomson would say next. He steeled himself. Thomson turned to Gil, a slightly pleased look in his eyes. He knew that he had Gilbert cornered now.

"The horse belonged to your friend, didn't it?" Thomson asked, seemingly innocently. "Well, that is -- If I'm not... mistaken?"

"It's not Anne's." Diana said quickly.

Gilbert winced. Thomson had not known Anne's name connected to the horse before then. Gilbert had never told Thomson which of his friends owned Belle. Diana didn't know this, of course -- it just came out. But now Thomson had a name. He had a link.

Thomson's face brightened, his ears picking up on a key slip up. He knew the pair were hiding something now. They were trying to help their friend Anne. They must mean Anne Shirley, Diana's best-friend. Thomson had often seen them playing together.

"The horse from the woods - it belongs to Anne Shirley?" Thomson pryed.

Gilbert looked at Diana. Her face was pale. They were both thinking of Anne clambering onto Belle, desperate to get away from them both and riding into the trees. What caused her to want to escape their presence so urgently? They were both so worried about their friend. She was hiding a lot from them.