Chapter 13
“You think Mr. MacArthur is up to something nefarious?” Peregrine glanced at Hawk. “You might have been mistaken about the penknife—”
“It’s not just about the penknife,” interjected Raven after checking that the schoolroom door was firmly shut. “And keep your voice down. I’d rather Eddy doesn’t get wind of what we’re discussing.”
“Eddy’s an official Weasel,” pointed out Hawk. “It doesn’t feel right that we’re having a council of war without her.”
Peregrine said nothing but he, too, looked uneasy.
Raven kicked at the fringe of the rug. “I don’t much like it either, but … but just hear me out.”
Hawk nodded for him to go on.
“On our visit to Mr. Egg’s gun shop, I happened to wander into one of the workshop corridors while Wrex and Eddy were occupied elsewhere …” He quickly recounted what he had overheard. “You have to admit that sounds awfully suspicious.”
“Oiy,” agreed Hawk. “Clearly someone at the shop is hiding something from Mr. Egg, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s something evil. And even if it was Mr. MacArthur speaking, we have no idea if it has anything to do with our family or the investigation into Mr. Campbell’s death.”
“I’m not saying that it has any connection!” retorted Raven. “My point is, the fellow is going to be spending time with Eddy, and if he’s someone untrustworthy—or involved in criminal activities—I can’t imagine that Wrex would want him anywhere near her.”
Hawk and Peregrine both frowned in thought.
“The fact that he was in Wrex’s private study raises too many questions to be ignored. So …” Raven drew in a deep breath. “I followed him back to Mr. Egg’s shop, and waited for the workday to be done in order to follow him back to where he is living.”
“Are you planning on searching his room?” queried Peregrine.
“Not for the moment. I hired Scratch and several of his urchin friends to watch Egg’s shop for the next week and follow him to wherever he goes after work. If he’s innocent, I’ll have wasted my pocket money. But if something doesn’t seem right, we can have a look around …”
“Have you told Wrex of your suspicions?” asked Hawk.
“I—I would rather be sure that MacArthur is guilty of something unsavory before doing so.” Raven hesitated.
“Eddy seems in awe of the dratted fellow. If I make accusations without tangible proof, she’ll be very upset.
” A pause. “And that in turn will put Wrex in a difficult position. He’s …
he’s very anxious that she be happy here. ”
“I dunno …” Peregrine frowned. “This behind-the-back strategy could explode in your face.”
“That’s why we don’t make important decisions without a council of war,” said Raven softly. “A council of war means we all have a vote. And as always, the majority rules.”
“But …” Hawk squared his shoulders as he looked up at his brother. “But it isn’t a council of war without Eddy. We all swore a blood oath together when we invited her to be a Weasel. How would you like it if we all kept you in the dark about something important to our family?”
“I …” A rueful sigh. “I would be bloody furious.”
“Yes—and just imagine how much worse you would feel if she turned you into a cockroach with one of her magical Gaelic song-spells for breaking the Weasel oath,” murmured Peregrine.
Hawk bit back a chortle.
“Very well,” Raven surrendered with a sigh. “Then let us go and get it over with.” He added a mock shiver. “If she hands you my cockroach head on a platter, please don’t feed it to her pigeons.”
“Ye heavens, that was quick,” remarked Wrexford as Riche approached the open doorway of his workroom and stepped aside to reveal that Griffin was right behind him.
“I can, on occasion, move slightly faster than an ox,” drawled the Runner. He eyed the earl’s formal attire and added an apologetic shrug. “Forgive me for interrupting your evening plans, but I have news on Ibbetson that I thought you would like to know without delay.”
“Indeed, I do. Sheffield and I are going to attend a reception at the Royal Society, but I can delay our departure.” Wrexford gestured for him to take a seat. “But first help yourself to a glass of brandy to ward off the evening chill.”
“Thank you, milord.” A splash of spirits sounded.
“And I’m sure that Mac has some sirloin left over from supper if you care to visit the kitchen when we are done,” he added.
“Sustenance would be very welcome. It’s been a long day.”
Wrexford nodded in sympathy but couldn’t keep from tapping his fingertips together in impatience to hear the news.
After savoring a swallow of the brandy, Griffin chuffed a sigh. “Much as it would eliminate some very disturbing complications from this case if Ibbetson had murdered Langdon, I’m afraid that we must rule him out as a suspect.”
Griffin paused for another sip before continuing.
“After leaving you this morning, I went to have a chat with the president of the Royal Society of Arts about their partnering with the Bank of England to fund the prize for the Inimitable Banknote Competition. I led him to believe that I was looking into the finances of some of the competitors, and that’s how I learned that for lack of money to fund his efforts, Ibbetson has given up his individual quest to win the prize and accepted a lucrative position as chief technical advisor to Lieutenant-Colonel Sir William Congreve, who plans to submit a bid to win the ￡20,000 prize. ”
He rubbed at his bristly chin. “According to the president— who was invited to give an after-supper talk to the participants on the challenges of printing banknotes—the group, including Ibbetson, was gathered with Congreve at his townhouse in Belgravia until the wee hours of the morning on the night of Langdon’s murder. ”
“Any chance he slipped away early?” asked the earl, though given Griffin’s attention to detail, he knew it was highly unlikely.
“Not unless both Congreve and his adjutant, Major Salisbury, are lying. I was able to interview them both this afternoon, and they assured me that Ibbetson was never out of their sight until the meeting broke up sometime after midnight.”
“Damnation.” Wrexford moved to the hearth and braced his palms against the marble mantel as he stared down at the unlit coals in the grate for several long moments.
Turning back to the Runner, the earl scowled in frustration.
“With Ibbetson eliminated as a suspect, I need to redouble my efforts to learn whether Langdon’s government activities were connected in some way to the Lisbon Conspiracy investigation.
Otherwise it’s hard to imagine a thread that could tie his death to Campbell’s murder and the current competition to create a banknote that can’t be counterfeited. ”
His jaw clenched for a moment. “And yet, the presence of the three false soldiers at the murder site, and their attack on the urchins I sent to reconnoiter, seem to indicate that there must be a link.”
Griffin nodded in agreement. “I can make some discreet inquiries among the other Runners who were involved in investigating the Lisbon Conspiracy and see if they recall any involvement by Langdon.”
“Do so very discreetly,” cautioned Wrexford. “Right now, we hold a slight advantage over Langdon’s murderer, in that he believes the death has been deemed a natural one.” A pause. “We need to seize the moment and move quickly—but carefully.”
He glanced back at the mantel clock and then turned for the door. “Speaking of quickly, I must be going.”
“Milord,” said Griffin.
Wrexford paused.
“Do heed your own advice and watch your step.”
“Wipe that scowl off your phiz,” advised Sheffield as he and the earl stepped down from their hackney and passed through the imposing archway of Somerset House.
“We’re joining a reception to hear Sir Joseph Banks announce who will take Lord Langdon’s place as head of the committee on counterfeiting, and if you’re going to ask questions about the dead man’s past, you’ll get more response with honey than with vinegar. ”
“I can, on occasion, summon up a modicum of tact,” replied Wrexford. “Any idea who is likely to be named as the new head?”
“Haven’t a clue. I was only officially appointed to the committee several days ago.”
“Perhaps you ought to be worried,” said the earl dryly, making a right turn and entering the headquarters of the Royal Society. “Empirical evidence seems to indicate that involvement in any aspect of counterfeiting may be hazardous to one’s health.”
Sheffield made a face. “On that cheery note, let us hurry through the receiving line and find the refreshment table. I, for one, would like a glass of champagne and suggest that you do the same. Perhaps it will help add a bit of sparkle to your spirits.”
The effervescence of the wine against his tongue did indeed remind the earl to put aside his worries about Henning for the evening.
The dowager had as yet discovered nothing incriminating about Duff Murray.
And so perhaps learning more about Langdon would provide some insight into the surgeon’s recent disturbing behavior.
“Ah, Sheffield! How good of you to come!” A gentleman— it took Wrexford a moment to recall the fellow’s name was Bertram Ainsley—approached and raised his glass in salute. “Congratulations on your official appointment to the committee.”
“Thank you,” responded Sheffield. “I look forward to working with all of you to find a foolproof way of creating paper currency. It’s a hugely important issue for our country.
Our wondrous technological innovations are sparking a rapid growth in manufacturing and trade, both at home and abroad.
Our monetary system must evolve in order to keep pace. ”
“Even though it won’t be easy,” said Wrexford, who knew that his friend had been giving the subject a great deal of thought. “You mentioned to me the other day how the sheer scale of transactions is becoming a great concern.”