Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

D rat!" Patience muttered as she tried to catch her breath. She had returned to the house to find the men had gone to the gamekeeper's cottage, but she met Westwood returning from there.

"Has something happened?" he asked her.

"Of sorts. I have information I need to give them. Are they gone?"

"They left ten minutes past on horseback. You will never catch them now."

"Drat, drat, drat."

"Climb on and tell me what you found on the way back." He held out a hand to assist her, and she mounted the horse behind him. Never mind that her skirts were hiked up to her knees. This was urgent.

As they rode back to the stables, she told him about the encrypted journal.

"Let's have a look at it quickly before we go rushing off to the docks headlong into danger. It could be entirely unrelated, and we might put their safety in jeopardy."

"You have experience with this sort of thing?"

"A little. Ash and I used to send letters back and forth that way when he was serving on the Continent."

"That's more experience than I have." Which was none.

They did not bother going to the stables. They rode directly to the house and handed the horse off.

"We might need Maximus again," Westwood informed the groom.

"Yes, my lord. He will be ready."

Patience and Westwood hurried into his study, where he pulled out some sheets of paper. "You can assist me by writing out patterns for me. Use one sheet for the letters and another when deciphering the message."

"You have done this a fair bit," she remarked.

"As long as it is not overly complex, we should be able to manage in time. My only concern is delivering it to them. I am to be in position and signal from here."

Patience wanted to offer to go, but knew he'd proclaim it too dangerous. While Westwood sorted through the code, her mind was awhirl with how she could manage to deliver the message herself if the code turned out to be something worthwhile.

It was about an hour before he recognized the pattern. "I do think I have it now."

She wrote down everything as he instructed and the various numbers and a list of four pairs of letters became apparent. "They could be initials."

"It's the numbers I can't make sense of." He stood and looked over her shoulder at what she had written.

"It's almost like a code within a code. Surely Rupert was not that clever."

"Since they gambled together, could those numbers simply be sums of money? Perhaps earnings or debts? Or even amounts made in their scheme?"

"Indeed, it could be that, but is it enough to implicate anyone in anything? We need something to tie them to the shipments."

"Do you recognize any other initials?"

"No, but Ashley or one of the others probably would. I don't think we have enough information worth the risk of riding this out to them tonight."

"Unfortunately not," she agreed.

"If you want to continue trying to make sense of it, be my guest." He showed her his pattern, then left to make preparations for sitting watch.

Patience knew there had to be something there, but her eyes were beginning to cross from looking at letters and numbers so long. They had only as yet deciphered two pages, and there were probably a dozen or so more left.

She rose from the chair, stretched, then went to see if Grace had managed to draw anything useful.

"There you are," Grace remarked when Patience found her in their sitting room. "I've made an attempt, but I have no idea if it will be helpful." She handed Patience her drawing pad with the page opened.

It was an excellent drawing, and one that was well enough it could be sold in a shop window.

The picture was the full scene—a man in the shadows of a wooden roof overhang with a top hat pulled low, only the lower half of his face protruding from beneath the shadows, a cigar hanging from his lips. He wore a long caped driving coat, and both hands crossed atop a walking stick that did indeed look like a snake's head, the tail forming into an ‘s' shape. A large signet ring with a dark oval centre sat on his pinkie finger.

"It is quite good," Patience remarked. "Perhaps one of the men will recognize him."

"Billy says it is a perfect likeness," Joy added. Grace would never have said as much.

"I need to take this."

Of course, Grace agreed. Patience gently removed the drawing and thanked her sister before returning to the study. As she returned to her work on the journal, something began to nag at her.

There were dates next to each notation and various numbers listed next to the pair of letters. If those numbers indicated money, then there was a lifetime's fortune listed next to each of the initials. Why wasn't there any listed for Rupert?

Patience flipped through each of the other pages, and there were a few blank ones before the notations seemed to begin backwards from the other side of the small journal. There were no initials listed there, only dates and numbers. Could those be Rupert's own profits or debts?

If this was money he'd won or lost from the other men, then it might be some sort of evidence. Perhaps Carew might recognize the pattern as he'd been a gamester. If it was even related to that.

Argh! She wanted to pull her hair in frustration. Why could Rupert not have left something more substantial?

Much though she wanted to figure it all out on her own, time was of the essence. Carew was somewhere on the estate, most likely with his horses.

As she trudged towards the stables, never in a thousand years would Patience have guessed how much work went into solving these mysteries. As soon as she found one piece of information, it raised several other questions. It felt like a maze with no centre or escape.

Carew was in the paddock with some colts, dressed in his shirt sleeves, buckskin breeches, and old Hessians. He was glistening with sweat and looked like a stable hand. Patience could certainly understand her sister's attraction. She only hoped Grace would not have her heart broken. Carew seemed as untamed and elusive as the colts he was now working with.

When he saw her approaching, he stopped and walked towards the fence. "Is it time?"

Patience cocked her head. "Time for what?"

"I thought you were sent to fetch me. Westwood asked me to assist him this evening."

"That, I cannot speak to. I was hoping you could help me with something else."

The light was beginning to fade, but she pulled out the journal and could just make out the letters and numbers.

"Do you have any idea what these mean?" She opened the small leather-bound book to show him.

"Where did you get this, lass?"

"It's Rupert Fagge's diary. I found it concealed in a music box. He gave it to me as a gift the morning he died. Westwood has been helping me decipher it." She then held up the decoded pages.

"A gift, you say?" Carew flipped through the pages and let out a low whistle.

"I am not sure he ever meant me to find it. What is it?" she begged.

"It appears to be a ledger of sorts. I've seen bookies use these columns. That's a great deal of money changing hands."

"Are those initials?" She pointed to the letters.

"Aye. And you can guess who some of those are."

"Edwin Layton and Oscar Beckett," she said.

"Unless I miss my guess, this one is Alastair Cholmely, Lord Singleton."

"Captain Cholmely's brother?"

He nodded. She turned the book over and opened it from the back.

"Are these Rupert's numbers, then?"

"That would be my guess," he agreed.

"Thank you for your help. I am not certain it will help them know who is smuggling arms."

"It could certainly be motive for why someone would do it. That's a lot of money to owe someone if that's what it means."

"It's difficult to credit Rupert with that sort of cunning. If you are right, then there are any number of men it could be. Now we've added two more to the list."

"Three of them lost a great sum to me that night and kept on wagering." He turned to signal to the grooms to take the colts, then he took his waistcoat and jacket from a nearby post and climbed over the fence. They began to walk back to the house, and Xander shot out of the barn towards her. Peter and Billy ran out after him, but stopped when they saw her. They made quick bows.

"You may keep him for now," she said, bending down to scratch behind the pup's ears. "I am tending to some business and I know he enjoys your company."

"Thank you, miss," Billy said excitedly.

Another thought occurred to her as they returned to the house. She pulled Grace's drawing from her pocket. "Do you recognize this gentleman at all? Perhaps he was at Inferno that night?"

Carew narrowed his gaze and studied the drawing. "Aye, I believe he was."

Ashley cursed himself as he tried to slip out into the darkness. He should have come out sooner and now he was at a disadvantage, knowing Renforth and their man were in the shadows. He went loudly past where Renforth was and Devil's meeting place, then a few steps beyond where he was supposed to be doubling back quietly to his lookout post.

Devil was already exiting the back door by that time and Ashley could feel his pulse race with the thrum of anticipation. The mix of being on the hunt blended with danger as they moved in for the kill was what they lived for.

Devil stepped into the shadows and Ashley could see why it was the chosen place, and he doubted they would hear much of anything of their conversation. It was too risky to move closer. However, their man would not be able to leave without passing by Ashley or Renforth unless he went into the pub. Hopefully, they would get a good look. But he would be followed until the shipment was on the boat.

When the first words reached his ears, Ashley was grateful for the acoustic gods.

"It's been some time, Devil. Where have you been?" The scent of cigar smoke wafted in the breeze towards him. It wasn't pleasant mixed with the Thames at low tide.

"I 'ad a spot of trouble but now I'm back."

"I see that. And you have some news for me?"

"Aye. Shorty and Smith 'eard as there's to be another shipment like the last. Is it ours like ye promised before?"

"What kind of trouble were you in? I heard you'd been captured."

Ashley cursed under his breath. It could be much more difficult to fool this man than the gang. Devil had been instructed to stay as close to the truth as possible, because they did not know what the man knew.

"Let's just say I had a little visit with a prison."

"And you managed to escape?" Disbelief laced the man's raspy voice.

"My gang 'eld up the caravan on the way to Newgate. It was a bit of a mess and one man was shot."

"Now you're a fugitive."

"Something like that. I need this job to get away."

"When is this shipment?"

"Tonight."

The gent cursed rather loudly. "You are certain? My contacts have not mentioned the shipment going out tonight."

"Shorty saw them being brought in secret like last time. Mebbe your sources missed 'em themselves. I suppose if they are wrong, then we wait longer. No 'arm in looking."

There was a long pause and for a while, Ashley thought he was going to refuse. Until the goods were actually stolen, they could not act upon anything.

"Very well. Once the goods are on board, you and the boy can sail with it. The captain will have your payment."

"We will see it done." Devil slipped back into the tavern, and soon exited again with the gang.

Ashley thought their man would follow, but he did not leave the shadows.

Baines and Cholmely would be following along behind shortly. Did he suspect they were being followed?

Ashley should not have worried.

A large group of very drunk men poured from the door, Baines and Chum included in that number. Had he not been looking for them, he would never have known it was them.

Still, their man waited to leave. What was his hesitation? Did he sense their presence?

Hopefully, he did not intend to wait there until the job was completed. Was he too smart to be caught? Would he then simply claim his yacht had been commandeered unbeknownst to him?

It seemed he was waiting to finish his cigar. Ashley saw a few puffs of smoke over the minutes they waited, then the man finally emerged. He went straight to where a horse was tied up and mounted before riding like the devil was on his heels.

Renforth was soon beside him. "We did not account for that."

"He rode towards London."

"Perhaps he went for reinforcements. I will hire a hack and go after him."

"I will go with you."

Renforth shook his head. "I know I always say to work in pairs, but I am only watching, not acting. You wait with the others at the yacht. I have a feeling our man will return before the night is over."

"We can only hope."

Ashley found his way down to where Le Coquette was moored. As he walked, there was a nagging feeling that he should have recognized their gentleman traitor. There was something distinctly familiar about him that Ashley could not quite nail down. When he reached the pier where the private yachts were docked, the place was eerie in its lack of humanity—the only sounds coming from the creaking ships and splash of the Thames against the shore.

It certainly did not look like a ship awaiting a long voyage to America. Was that why the gent had ridden hell-for-leather towards London? He needed to arrange for a crew? It had all seemed very odd, though he had been surprised by the news. Yet had he not told Devil the captain would be waiting with payment?

Ashley was not certain where Fielding and Manners were hiding, but he could make an educated guess from his own experiences with spying and covert locations.

Manners saw him and made a welcoming sound. He was just beneath a tarp on the next ship over. Ashley climbed aboard and joined him, both lying flat on their bellies.

"Where is Fielding?"

"In the shed on the other side of the ship. Is all going according to plan?"

"Yes, and no. Devil reunited with his gang, and made contact with the gentleman, but he took off in a hurry towards London instead of coming here."

"What do you think it means?"

"He was taken aback, not only by Devil's escape, but he also had no notion of the shipment drop tonight. I can only surmise he had to leave to make arrangements for a crew."

"If that is the case, the goods will not be leaving tonight."

"Unlikely," Ashley agreed. "Devil will not be pleased if they arrive to find the ship deserted. They can hardly load it themselves."

"Though they can hardly sit here with a wagonload of cargo, can they? But we need the excise man to wait until we have our man. I pray they wait for Renforth's command."

"I wonder what Renforth has discovered. He was following our man back to London." Ashley could but wonder.

"Who can say if he even caught up with the man in a hired hack?"

"We won't know until he arrives. I will go and speak with Fielding now. I have no idea how long it will take for the gang to steal the cargo and deliver it here."

"Excellent. What's another hour or two of waiting?" Manners drawled.

Ashley climbed out from under the tarp and kept to the shadows, just in case, as he made his way towards a small wooden shed on the pier. Fielding saw him coming and opened and closed the door quickly behind him. Ashley filled him in on everything he had just told Manners as they settled in to wait. Occasional ships would pass through the deeper waters of the river, but this far out of London there was not much river traffic at low tide.

"Vessel approaching," Fielding alerted him as his thoughts had begun to drift off.

"Is it the gang?" Ashley asked as Fielding used a spyglass to look through the small window.

"I'm not certain what I am seeing. It's appears to be a ferryman and several large sacks of something. Perhaps some sort of cargo."

"We will keep alert."

The barge pulled alongside of the pier and the ferryman secured his boat with a rope. They could hear the man speaking quietly with someone, but could not see the recipient.

"Dare we enquire?"

"He does not appear to be related to the shipment we're awaiting."

Ashley cracked the door open. "May I help you?" he asked, startling the ferryman.

"Psst. Ashley."

Dear God in heaven. He looked up at the night sky. If that was Patience Whitford, he was going to wring her neck right then and there.

"Ashley!"

"As I live and breathe, Patience. Can you not use the sense that the good Lord gave you? You should not be here, and certainly not alone!"

"I'm not alone." She lifted the large canvas that covered her and the other lumps to reveal several familiar faces: Carew, Montford, Cunningham, and Rotham, who looked less than pleased to be in his current state. "Do not blame them. We found them outside the tavern and needed to find you."

"I take it none of you can gainsay a slip of a woman?"

"Have you tried to say nay to the lass? Besides, I think she's found your man for you," Carew drawled.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, she discovered Rupert's diary, which appears he was holding thousands of pounds worth of debt over four men, and then she had her sister draw a picture of the man Billy had seen from the boy's descriptions, and it just so happens that it's Lord Singleton." He realized what he'd said and looked apologetic. "Sorry, lass. I did not mean to steal your thunder."

"It is quite all right. You were defending me quite brilliantly."

Meanwhile, Ashley felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. Chum's brother was a traitor.