Nye’s gaze met hers. “Did you see him?” he asked.
She shook her head. “His hat was pulled low and I only glimpsed him for an instant before Reuben struck me.”
He tensed at her words, then exhaled noisily. “Probably just as well,” he muttered.
“The Rowleys have taken to frequenting The Harlot of an evening,” she told him.
He sat up in his seat, with a quick frown. “What? Have they said anything to you? To Edna?”
She shook her head. “It’s not so much an intimidation tactic as a show of support,” she assured him. “Corin and Herney spread it in the village that we are not identifying anyone apart from Gus and Reuben.”
“Reuben’s dead, I saw to that myself,” he said abruptly.
Now it was Mina’s turn to sit up. “What do you mean?” she faltered. “I thought he got shot in the struggle?”
Nye shook his head. “I broke his neck,” he said briefly. “He should not have touched you.”
“Broke his—?” Mina stared at him a moment, then gave herself a quick shake. “Well, it’s of no matter now.”
Nye shielded his eyes from her with his hand. “Gus may still turn Queen’s evidence you know,” he said gruffly. “To save his skin. If he were to implicate my own involvement over the years…”
She hesitated a moment. “Was that one of the reasons you wanted to disappear to Exeter?” she asked, suddenly stricken.
“No.” He looked impatient.
“In any case,” said Mina. “I don’t believe for one minute that Gus would do such a thing.” She hesitated. “You see, his whole defense angle is that he was an ignorant old man who was taken advantage of by the wily smugglers. A bit of flattery, a few bottles of rum and he was putty in their hands. That sort of thing. He won’t blow that apart now by admitting to knowing much more about the business. Officer Guthrie told me Gus acted quite bewildered that you had been taken into custody. He told them that Reuben gave him his orders and you were nothing to do with it.”
Nye looked a good deal taken aback by that. “Reuben giving orders?” he repeated skeptically. “No one would believe that.”
“They would if they wanted to. It turns out Reuben was not well-liked in the village. The officers did not even know him. I bet you the guards are already warming to Gus and allowing him extra portions of tobacco and gin,” Mina said with a snort. “He’s a cozening old rogue. Or at least, that is the face he presents to the world.” She thought fleetingly of the more sinister things he had told her but pushed that resolutely out of her mind. It could have been lies, she told herself. Gus Hopkirk was first and foremost a spinner of yarns.
Nye looked conflicted. “Still,” he hesitated. “If he truly was the one in charge…”
“Put it out of your head,” Mina begged. “It’s my belief such a thing would never be proven. It is just a notion of mine after all, and one I will not so much as mention to anyone else save yourself.” When he continued silent, she added. “Besides, he bore you no ill will. He told me himself that you were drawn into smuggling by old Jacob Nye and that you had little choice about it.”
Nye did not look appeased. “If he gave the orders to have you kidnapped Mina—” he started wrathfully. “Then—”
“But don’t you see? That was nothing personal. It was just business. Indeed, he scolded Reuben for treating me poorly. He did not dislike me.” It occurred to Mina that Nye did not realize Gus had intended for her to be flung off a cliff edge. She decided not to enlighten him. Likely it would just put rash ideas into his head about getting Gus convicted at all costs. “Now that the smuggling ring is broke quite apart, I daresay he will bear no malice, but will instead focus on swaying the jury in his favor.”
“Aye and he’ll probably escape with a custodial sentence,” said Nye darkly. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“And what’s that to us?” shrugged Mina. “I doubt he’d come back to Penarth. He’s not from ‘round these parts and likely he’s left many such skirmishes with the law in his wake. He’ll probably go whistling out of prison and take himself another name and pitch up at some other seaside spot. A salty seadog with a wealth of tales and a winning manner.”
“And that’s it, is it?” Nye asked. “We just forget about the ordeal he put you through?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “We put all that behind us. At least.” A sudden thought struck her. “I may write him a letter to be given in prison.”
“What?” Nye thundered.
“Just to let him know, that I will never breathe a word of what I learned in that passageway and that you refused to turn Queen’s evidence so he knows he has nothing to be revenged against on that score.”
“They read and censor every letter a prisoner receives—” Nye began, but she fluttered a hand at this.
“I know that of course! I would couch everything in exceedingly careful terms. For instance, I would thank him prettily for preserving me against Reuben. He would be vastly pleased by that I think and read it aloud to his jailors at every opportunity, for you see it backs the line he means to take. Then I could tell him that you had been released and how vexed I was that anyone could be so foolish as to suppose you had been involved.” She tapped her chin distractedly. “Perhaps I
