CHAPTER 24 #3
“As do you,” observed Sheffield. “However ungentlemanly it may be to remark on it, you look exhausted. And fatigue makes one prone to making mistakes.” He eyed her urchin’s garb. “The Weasels will escort you home.”
Cordelia opened her mouth as if to argue, but whatever words she was intending surrendered to a sigh.
“We’ll meet you in the scullery,” said Raven.
She nodded. “I’ll just be a moment in seeing the professor to his quarters.”
Sheffield waited for the boys to follow her and Sudler out of the workroom before clearing his throat and looking to Wrexford and Charlotte. “So, now that’s it’s just the three of us, tell me—do you really have an idea on where the documents Woodbridge signed are being kept?”
His gaze shifted to Charlotte’s paper, on which she had been scribbling some notes. “And even more importantly, does that mean you have a plan for getting them back?”
“My intuition tells me there’s one logical place for them to be,” she replied.
“The dastards will be keeping them somewhere safe. And what better place than East India House, the Company’s headquarters on Leadenhall Street?
Its imposing stone facade gives it an aura of invincibility, and it’s well guarded at all hours of the day. ”
Wrexford saw that she had done a quick scribble of the massive Doric columns of East India House’s main entrance portico as she spoke.
“And now that we know Lord Copley is involved, however reluctantly, I would guess that it’s in his private office,” Charlotte added.
“But what if he’s telling the truth and someone else is in charge?” asked Sheffield. “Then it could be anywhere.”
“I think Lady Charlotte is right,” interjected Wrexford.
“These men have shown themselves to be clever in avoiding any personal connection to the illicit activities. A place like East India House provides ironclad security, but it also offers a perfect alibi if the documents somehow come to light. They could easily claim they were hidden in Copley’s files by someone else.
After all, clerks and junior administrators must come and go constantly through that section of the building. ”
“Very well, let’s assume the surmise is correct.” Sheffield frowned. “I’m not sure why you’re looking like a cat who knocked over the cream pot. We haven’t got a snowball’s chance in hell of getting those papers out of the devil’s own lair.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” said Charlotte. “As a matter of fact, I do have a plan, and I am quite confident it will work. Here’s what I have in mind . . .”
“Ye gods.” Sheffield let out a low whistle once she had finished. “You’re either mad or brilliant.”
“Sometimes the difference between the two is less than a hairsbreadth,” murmured Wrexford.
“It’s bold, I give you that,” said Sheffield. “But there are so many things that can go wrong.”
“That can be said for most endeavors,” pointed out Charlotte. “If we wish to save Lord Woodbridge and Lady Cordelia from ruin, we must strike quickly. Time is growing short, and we can’t afford to be fainthearted.”
“No one would ever accuse you of being fainthearted, m’lady.” Henning paused in the doorway to slap the raindrops from his hat. “Thank heavens you weren’t jesting about the whisky,” he added, heading straight to the bottle and pouring himself a glass.
“Ah.” The surgeon let out a blissful sigh after quaffing a long swallow. “That warms the cockles.”
“There’s food here, as well, though the choices are rather limited,” said Charlotte with a rueful look at the nearly empty platter. “The boys are like locusts.”
“As is the hound,” groused Wrexford.
Harper continued his gusty snores.
“Malt is sustenance enough,” replied Henning as he refilled his glass. Turning, he caught sight of the massive machine. “What the devil is that?”
“Professor Sudler’s Computing Engine,” replied the earl.
“Hell’s teeth. It’s . . .” The surgeon approached the behemoth and studied the intricate assembly of polished metal. “It’s extraordinary.” After another few moments of scrutiny, he shuffled over to join them at the table. “I imagine it’s connected to whatever devilry you’re investigating.”
“Yes,” answered Wrexford.
Henning’s gaze was still on the Engine. Like the earl, he had a great interest in scientific innovations. “How does it work?”
“We haven’t a clue,” confessed Charlotte. “You would have to ask Lady Cordelia.”
“Never mind the mechanics,” snapped Wrexford. “We have more important problems to solve.”
“Perhaps this will help.” The surgeon fished a soggy piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on the table. “You asked for a list of banks willing to work with scoundrels.”
Wrexford read it and then passed it to Charlotte, who quickly copied the names onto her notes before pushing it on to Sheffield.
“As for Annie Wright,” continued Henning, “no one has seen hide nor hair of her.”
“With good reason,” replied the earl. “She’s one of the enemy and has fled London.” A pause. “No doubt with her purse bulging with blood money.”
Charlotte bowed her head.
It was Sheffield who ventured to speak after several moments of heavy silence.
“As to money . . .” He looked up from Henning’s list. “If these establishments are in league with criminals, what makes you think they will hand over the money, even if you’re successful in recovering the documents that show Woodbridge is the owner of Argentum Trading Company? ”
“Because,” answered Wrexford, “I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to it.”
Charlotte folded her notes. “I suggest we all get some sleep, as we mean to put our plan into action tomorrow.” She glanced at Sheffield. “I know you wish to help, but—”
He cut her off with a dismissive wave. “I’m aware that my skills, such as they are, aren’t nearly polished enough to be of aid in what you have in mind.
Still, I shall try to be useful. I’ve been tasked by Lady Cordelia to take charge of overseeing our legitimate business while she’s occupied with the professor and his Engine. ”
Wrexford’s brows twitched upward, but he caught himself before making a caustic quip.
“I wish you all luck.” Henning lifted his near-empty glass in salute. “Here’s to kicking the bastards where it hurts.”