Chapter 7
James followed Croft into The Fox’s Burrow and scanned the interior. The noise from the throng of people who gathered here in the evenings was muted at this time of day. Only a few tables were occupied by guests who’d come for a late luncheon, their bodies hunched over their meals.
A thick smell of smoke mingled with that of roast meat and cooked vegetables. James’s stomach produced an involuntary growl. He ignored it and strode after Croft, toward a portly man who stood at a counter, jotting down notes in what looked like a ledger.
“Good afternoon,” said Croft, forcing the man’s attention to him. “Are you the owner of this establishment?”
The man straightened. “I am. How may I help you, Mr…?”
“Croft.” Croft seemed to ignore the man’s startled expression and gestured to James. “This is Mr. Murry. And you are?”
The man cleared his throat, then stuck out his hand. “Keats. It’s a pleasure to have you here, sir.”
Croft shook Keats’s hand, then said, “Murry and I have come to acquire some information about an individual who was last seen entering this establishment.”
“Uh…” Uncertainty lent a wariness to Keats’s expression.
“He was described as being well-dressed, roughly thirty years old, about my height, with light brown hair, and in possession of a pleasant disposition. Might have used the name, Smith.” Croft leaned toward Keats ever so slightly. “We need to speak with anyone who may have had contact with him.”
“I…um…I believe I know to whom you’re referring,” said Keats, his gaze darting sideways for a brief second before returning to Croft. “If it’s the man I’m thinkin’ of, he spent a few nights here last week but has moved on.”
“Did he say where he was off to next?” James asked.
Keats shook his head. “No, but he met with an older gent more than once. Could be Old Larry over there has more to say on the matter — keenest observer if ever there was one.”
James looked toward the man Keats indicated. He was a lean individual whose clothes showed evidence of wear and tear, but that was not the part that caught James’s attention most. Neither was his wrinkled face or pointy nose, but rather his milky-white gaze.
“Is he blind?” Croft asked while Old Larry ate some more of the stew he’d been served.
“His eyes don’t work, if that’s what you’re asking,” said Keats. “But he’s far from blind. It’s my belief he sees much better than the rest of us.”
“You know I can hear you,” Old Larry muttered from across the room.
James stared at the man as he took his next bite.
He had to be roughly ten yards away. Keats’s voice had been low while he’d spoken.
If that weren’t enough, his words should have been buried beneath other sounds, like those of other guests eating, the serving girl clearing a table, and the barkeep rearranging glasses.
“Might we have a word with you, sir?” Croft directed his question toward Old Larry.
“No,” Old Larry replied.
Croft’s brow creased, his eyes darkening in response to the rebuttal. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t—”
“Interrupting a man’s meal is rude. Mr. Croft. If you want to speak with me, it’ll have to wait until I’m done.”
James took a deep breath and held it. Not only was Old Larry fully aware of who he was addressing, he also looked like it had no impact upon him whatsoever. Where Keats had seemed to shrink a little upon realizing the man seeking answers was Croft, Old Larry dismissed him without blinking.
A couple of seconds ticked by. Keats wrung his hands, an anxious look on his face. Old Larry merely returned to his food.
And then…
“My apologies,” Croft said. “Enjoy the rest of your meal.”
When Old Larry refrained from showing any sign of having heard him, James gestured toward the nearest table. “Maybe we should sit.”
“Yes. Let’s,” Croft agreed, though his irritation showed in the tightness of his jaw. He huffed a breath and shook his head, then told Keats, “We might as well take our own luncheon while we wait.”
Relief eased the tension from James’s shoulders. He’d only been slightly hungry before arriving here, but the smell of food and watching the rest of the patrons eat had made him feel like he’d not had a meal in days. Catching a look from Croft, he sent him a nod of appreciation.
While many men feared him, James viewed him as just.
Yes, he’d overreacted on occasions and made mistakes, especially in his younger years. Thankfully, he’d since matured. After his father’s death he’d even abandoned the power-hungry agenda that had defined the Croft name for so long. Instead, he’d transformed into a fierce protector.
James liked this new identity his master was cultivating. He enjoyed helping him save innocent lives and punishing true evil-doers.
“I’ll have the mutton stew,” he said when Keats gave the option between that and chicken pie. Tankards of ale were soon provided and they settled into their chairs.
Noting where Croft’s attention had gone, James glanced over his shoulder toward Old Larry. After observing him for a moment he looked at his employer. “It’s quite remarkable, don’t you think? Nothing about his movements suggests he can’t see.”
Croft responded with a thoughtful nod, then took a sip of his drink. James followed suit, savoring the hints of caramel coating his tongue. The food arrived and he dug in with near ecstatic delight. Hot and soothing, it slid down his throat and filled his stomach with endless gratification.
“Should I ask if we can join him?” James asked once he and Croft were done eating and it looked like Old Larry had also finished his meal.
“And give him a chance to turn me down yet again?” Croft shook his head and pushed back his chair. “With the stakes we’re facing, I think I’ve shown enough consideration for one day.”
James agreed. If Old Larry had information that could ensure Lady Edwina’s safe return to her brother, then it was time to acquire it.
He followed Croft over to the older man’s table and remained standing while Croft claimed the only vacant chair, directly across from Old Larry.
“We’ve not been formally introduced,” said Croft.
“No need,” Old Larry replied. “We both know who the other is, don’t we?”
“I suppose we do. By name at least.”
Old Larry produced a snort, his vacant eyes staring directly at Croft, as though he could see him. “You’re the King of Portman Square, are you not?”
Surprise swept Croft’s face. “Indeed, I am.”
“Then I’m guessin’ you’ll threaten to kill me unless I provide the information you’re after.”
Noting the furious gleam in Croft’s eyes, James hastened to say, “It’s not your life that’s in danger if you refuse to help, but that of a young woman. We’re simply trying to find her so we can bring her home safely.”
“Ah, yes,” Old Larry said, his voice slightly mocking, “from high-rankin’ criminal to avengin’ angel. I suppose both positions can benefit from the same kind o’ skill-set.”
“Is it compensation you’re after?” Croft growled.
Old Larry tilted his head as if in thought, then said, “I don’t like you, Croft, but I can hear the truth in Murry’s words, so I’ll help as best I can. Not for you, but for the woman who was taken.”
“We don’t know enough to be sure of what happened to her,” Croft said, his voice tinged with annoyance. “Maybe she went with the man we’re seeking of her own free will.”
“She did not.” Old Larry’s blunt remark sent a shiver down James’s spine.
He shared a look with Croft, but before either of them could question Old Larry about his comment, he himself volunteered, “I heard a couple o’ conversations last week between the same two men.
The younger of them was stayin’ here, the other stopped by to tell ’im a room had been readied for the lady in question.
A discussion followed about the logistics required in gaining the lady’s trust.”
“What of the room?” James asked before Croft was able to comment. “Did either man mention an address?”
“No, but the older one said the carriage transportin’ her would pull into the courtyard behind The Gilded Lady.”
James frowned in response to the name even as Croft said, “I’m not familiar with that establishment.”
“It’s a brothel on John Adam Street, just south of The Strand,” James informed him. “I’ve visited it a number of times.”
Croft met his gaze. “Decent enough place then, I take it?”
James nodded. “It’s run by one of the bawds Taylor sponsors. The entire street is filled with eateries, gaming hells, taverns, and play houses.”
“Anything else you’re able to share?” Croft asked Old Larry. “Like your reason for not bringing any of this to Bow Street’s attention.”
Old Larry grimaced. “I’ve tried givin’ them tips in the past, but was always turned away. Don’t reckon they trust a blind man, so making the trip there ain’t worth the bother.”
“Fair enough.” Croft reached inside his pocket and pulled out some coins, which he placed on the table. “I appreciate your help. If you learn of other nefarious deeds in the future, please come see me at once. I’m at Number 5 Portman Square.”
Croft stood, then he and James went to share a few additional words with Keats.
“I’d like to open a tab,” Croft informed him. “Should Old Larry require anything else — a bed to sleep in or additional meals – I’m happy to pay the expense.”
Keats nodded. “His meals are on the house, but I’ll let him know about the bed. I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”
Croft and James left The Fox’s Burrow and returned to their carriage, where Croft directed Jennings toward John Adam Street before telling James, “We’ll go straight to The Gilded Lady and see if we can pick up a trace of Lady Edwina there.”
“Or the man who took her,” James said, his hands balling into tight fists. “Once we catch the bastard, he’ll be coughing up blood and howling in pain.”
“Agreed,” Croft murmured, assuring James that there would be no forgiving this kind of behavior.
Once they were on their way, Croft added, “I plan to stop by Bow Street later and let Kendrick know what we’ve learned.
Despite Wrengate’s opinion, the chief constable deserves to be apprised.
Especially when considering the agreement I’ve made with him.
Anything less would be a breach of my word, which is something I cannot accept. ”
“Understood.” James stared straight ahead as the carriage rolled onward. He hated the fact that a young woman could not go out for a walk unescorted without being preyed upon.
“You’re angrier than usual about this case,” Croft observed.
James took a slow breath. “I feel like a new threat rises as soon as we’re done putting one to rest. The fact that a duke’s sister, who ought to be protected, could so easily disappear…”
“One might say the same about Evelyne.” The sadness in Croft’s voice made James wish he could erase his last comment from existence.
“Short of locking her in her room, however, there was no stopping her from leaving the house alone when that was what she was determined to do. I’m sure the same is true of Lady Edwina. ”
“Forgive me. I spoke without thinking.”
“You said what you did because you’re worried.
I am too. Especially because of what happened to my sister, but also because of the other atrocities we’ve dealt with since.
I fear for Lady Edwina’s life, but what more can we do?
We are trying to save her, and as long as that’s true, there’s a chance we’ll find her. ”
“I suppose it could be worse,” James said even as a chill swept the length of his spine. “We might not have met Old Larry or learned of where to look next.”
At least now there was some hope of getting results.