Mr. Collingwood completely missed the reference to a dead man, and jumped straight to indignation. His nostrils flared. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“Not at all. I simply understand the police’s predicament. When did your aunt make her donation to the society? Do you know the year?”
He nodded sharply. “July of 1816.”
Before any of the owners of our disturbed corpses had passed away.
Gage laced his fingers together and rested his hands over his flat stomach, a gesture I knew to mean his interrogation was about to grow more serious. “We’ve been told that you’ve contacted several of the society’s members, either by letter or a personal visit. And that you’ve even gone so far as to contact the family of past members.”
“What of it?” he retorted, growing more belligerent. “One of them stole my family’s torc. Something my aunt had no right to give away. And I want it back.” His eyes were bright with almost a feverish anger.
Gage was not intimidated. “Did you know that three of those deceased members recently had their graves disturbed?”
Mr. Collingwood’s expression was startled, but only for a moment. “Did they find anything? Because if there was a gold torc, it’s mine.”
I watched the insensitive man carefully, trying to figure out whether he was this good of a liar, or he was genuinely unaware of the thefts.
“The only thing it appears they took were the men’s bones,” Gage replied.
Mr. Collingwood’s face screwed up in an ugly scowl. “Well, what’s that to do with me?” He glanced back and forth between us. “I’m only interested in the torc.”
I had to struggle not to scowl right back at the dreadful man. Now I understood exactly what Lord Buchan and Mrs. Tyler had meant when they called him disagreeable.
“Well, did you not suggest to at least one of the victims’ families that their relative might have been buried with the torc?” The corner of Gage’s eye twitched, telling me how impatient he was getting.
“And?”
“And then his grave is dug up and his bones stolen? Am I supposed to believe that’s just a coincidence?”
Mr. Collingwood’s face was growing an alarming shade of red. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I think you need to leave now.” He made to rise, but Gage stood his ground.
“I think you need to answer my question.”
He glared at Gage as though he were an insect. “I do not go about digging up graves like some common laborer.”
“No, but you might have hired some common laborers to do it for you.” Gage leaned closer. “Perhaps a group of experienced body snatchers. And given them the idea that they could ransom the bones back to their relatives for as much money as they wished, so long as they brought you the gold torc if they found it.”
Mr. Collingwood’s lips twisted in disgust. “You’re insane.” He glanced at me. “Both of you.” When I frowned, he sneered. “Oh, yes, I remember who you are now, Lady Darby. Perhaps it’s she you should be looking at for these body snatchings. Though I’ve heard she likes them a bit fresher, with a little more meat on the bones.”
My cheeks flamed at hearing the old insinuations. That I was a ghoul, a killer, a cannibal. I clasped my hands tightly together, prepared to deliver the man a set down, when Gage spoke up.
“That’s enough,” he nearly shouted. His pale blue eyes were as hard as ice chips. “You will address the lady with the proper respect she deserves, or you and I are going to have a problem. Do I make myself clear?” When Mr. Collingwood did not answer, Gage raised his voice even louder. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” he bit out.
Gage’s shoulders relaxed somewhat, but he still looked as if he was ready to plant the man a facer at any moment. I found myself wishing he would.
“Now, you did not answer my questions. Did you have anything to do with the thefts of the bodies of Ian Tyler of Woodslea, Sir Colum Casselbeck, or Lord Buchan?” Mr. Collingwood opened his mouth to reply, but Gage wasn’t finished. “I’d think carefully before lying to me.”
Mr. Collingwood’s eyes narrowed. “Or what?”
The hair on the back of Gage’s neck fairly bristled. “Do you really want to find out?”
In the face of Gage’s angry glare, made all the more intimidating by his black eye, Mr. Collingwood’s bravado slowly melted away, though his voice was still tight with affront. “No. I had nothing to do with it.”
Gage eyed him a moment longer and then reluctantly nodded.
We left the odious man soon after, and climbing into Gage’s carriage, I turned to ask, “Do you believe him?”
Gage settled onto the seat facing me, his face still creased into a frown. “I’m inclined to. Only because I can’t imagine the man actually stooping to speak to ‘common laborers.’ Nor do I think he’s intelligent enough to concoct such a plan.”
“But he’s certainly obsessed with finding that torc.”