I made no reply, for I knew already that I would have to content myself to doing without twenty pounds. I did not know who deserved the plans, but I already had an inkling of the person to whom I would deliver them. If Miss Glade knew what I planned, I have no doubt she would have done her utmost to stop me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LIAS SAT IN MY FRONT ROOM, HANDILY FINISHING OFF A BOTTLE of port I’d opened only that morning. He was well settled in my most comfortable chair, with his feet up, resting upon the very table I used for most of my meals.
“I’m rather unhappy about all of this,” he told me.
“I don’t doubt it,” I answered. I emerged at that moment wearing dark breeches and a dark shirt to match. I slipped into an equally dark coat—not quite a greatcoat since it was lighter than perhaps the weather demanded and clung more to my form. I could endure the cold, but I could not endure a cumbersome garment that would snag or hold me back.
“I hardly think you would want to go,” I told him. “Not that you would know how to conduct yourself if you did come along. And though you might like the sense of the adventure, you must understand there is always the risk of being caught, and I should very much doubt you would like to be sent off to prison.”
He put his feet back on the floor. “You may have a point,” he admitted, “but there are some rather nasty fellows about. What am I to do with myself until your return?”
“You may wait here if you like.”
“But I’ve finished your port,” he explained urgently.
“I do have more than one bottle.”
“Oh. Then I shall stay.”
IT HAD BEEN BITTERLY cold all day, but surprisingly nightfall brought a slight warming, and though I was dressed with less protection than I would like, I was nevertheless able to endure the chill. The sky was dark and heavy with clouds, and an intermittent sprinkling of wet snow dampened my hat and face and turned the filth of the London streets into a slick pool of kennel. Under less pressing circumstances, I might have walked carefully to avoid the streaks of mud and waste and decaying carcasses; that night I cared for nothing but keeping my step and my determination steady.
I silently prayed for luck. The meeting of the Court of Proprietors was the next day, and if I could not free Mr. Franco and take charge of Pepper’s engine plans before that, I did not know if afterward I’d be able to make matters right. In order to accomplish my goals, I would need to gain entrance to the house Cobb and Hammond had used. I had broken into my share of houses in the past, but never a fortress run by French spies. I had to believe that precautions, perhaps even traps, had been laid for intruders, and I should hate to take such chances. I would therefore have to gain the help of those who had already cracked the code.
After turning onto Sparrow Street, I stopped and surveyed the scene about me. Anyone who knew my face would be unlikely to know me at that moment. I leaned against a building, my hat pulled down to hide myself in the shadows; no hard trick when all was shadow. It was not yet ten o’clock, and some light spilled into the streets from windows or from lanterns upon passing coaches, but it was dark, make no mistake. And though the streets were far from deserted, an occasional pedestrian or coachman would prove small deterrent. That, at least, was what I hoped.
I removed from my pocket a purse and dropped it upon the ground, making sure to find an exposed stone with no filth or snow upon it. I hit my mark, and a few pennies spilled out, making the shimmering music upon which I had been depending.
In an instant I was surrounded by more than a dozen dark figures.
“Step away from your purse, you old nitty, unless you want to taste my boot.”
“I’ll step away with all my heart,” I answered, “and all the more so because it’s not my purse but yours. I am giving it to you, after all.” I raised my chin and looked full into the face of the urchin called Crooked Luke.
“Damme,” another one said. “Ain’t that the spark what took that posture-moll Edgar down a notch or two?”
“It’s him,” Crooked Luke said. He eyed me carefully, as though I might be a gift of food from an enemy with a history of using poison. “What’s this then? The clink of coin on stone was meant to draw us out, weren’t it?”
“It was,” I admitted. “I have a desire to speak with you. You may say or do as you like, you may help me or no, but the purse is yours.”
Crooked Luke nodded at one of his fellows, a small child with a running nose who appeared to be no more than seven or eight—but when he grew close, I could see he was older, though stunted in stature. He dashed forward, grabbed the purse, and retreated.
“You want us for something?” Luke said.
“I do. After our first meeting, I inquired of your friend Edgar the manservant why he harbored such dislike for you. He told me that you were housebreakers, that you had a way in and out of the house without getting caught.”
The boys laughed, none more so than Crooked Luke. “He don’t like it,” Luke agreed. “It drives him terrible angry.”
“They are particularly jealous of the security of their house,” I said, in as leading a way as I might.
Luke nodded sagely. “That’s it. We’ve nabbed a thing or two, I won’t deny it, but it’s more the fun of the game. We ain’t never taken too much since they’re always at home, and as like to fire a musket into us as not. But a few raids, savage-Indian-like, is the way, and they ain’t figured our means.”
“I wish to get in,” I said, “and I would know your secret.”
“It’s our secret though, ain’t it?”
“It is, but I have a secret or two myself, and perhaps an exchange might be in order.”
“And what secret is that?”
I smiled, because I knew I had his interest now. “Mr. Cobb is gone. Mr. Hammond will soon be gone. I have no doubt that within a day of Mr. Hammond’s disappearance, the creditors will come in and take charge. If, however, some clever young fellows knew precisely when to strike, they might move through the house taking what they liked with impunity.”
Luke exchanged looks with a couple of his fellows. “You ain’t lying, are you?”
I handed Luke a card. “If I am, come calling upon me. I will give you five pounds if I tell you false. I have come to your aid, young sir, and I hope you won’t abuse my generosity with doubt.”
He nodded. “I know a thing or two about you,” he said. “I ain’t got no cause to think you’d tell me false, and if you’ve made an honest mistake you promise to make good, so I can take your bargain.” He turned to look at his companions, who nodded in solemn assent. I did not flatter myself that they nodded in agreement with Luke’s assessment of my character, but with the anticipation of claiming the valuables of so fine a house.
“Now you will show me?” I asked.
“Aye, I will. But I hope you haven’t too much of a fondness for those clothes upon your back, for they won’t be worth much soon.”
A MAN WHO, LIKE MYSELF, has broken out of the most notorious prison in London will hardly wince at the thought of a nail snagging his breeches or some soot staining his sleeve. My greatest fear was that some secret passage sufficient for boys should prove a sad obstacle for a man, but this was not the case. Luke took me to a small house around the corner from where Cobb had lived. I could see at once it was a boardinghouse, clean and respectable—not the sort of place generally open to rascals like my friend Luke.
“Now listen good, sir, for this is our freak, and I’ll not look kind if you ruin it for us. We have made this work for some months now because the man what owns this house ain’t never heard so much as a squeak from us. So you’ll tread careful?”
“You may depend upon it.”
“And for the clearing of the house?”
“By sundown tomorrow,” I said, “if all goes as I anticipate, Mr. Hammond, Edgar, and anyone else associated with that house will be in hiding, afraid to return. Assuming,” I added, “they do not get in my way tonight.”
