“Please, ma’am, you must understand. I took nothing from the lady. I lost my most prized treasure and was only looking to find it.” She beseeched her with woefully sad eyes and a sincerity she’d practiced well in the face of her lies.
“We’ll know that soon enough. Her fellow should tell us if you rifled through her belongings.” Hannah inspected her clothes, and her body. Unraveling the gauze that bound her breasts, she found nothing. And she wouldn’t, for Rebecca had pocketed the small treasures in her britches—in hiding places she’d sewn into the lining fabric, so no one would find them unless they knew what to look for—one of Ellerby’s laws—conceal what you have, or you lose everything if you’re caught.
“There was a sharp rap at the door.”
It was Horace. Hannah hardly afforded Rebecca
