A muffled ‘Right then, I’ve got hold of his knees,’ interrupted her tirade and she had to content herself with an outraged sniff.
‘Give me your arm,’ she muttered.
Obediently, Reverend Shackleford held out his arm. ‘Bend your elbow,’ she ordered. ‘It will give me some purchase.’
‘Are you ready yet,’ Percy gasped from the depths. ‘I’m feeling a bit light-headed.’
‘Don’t be such a chucklehead, Percy,’ the Reverend grumbled, linking his hands and crooking his elbow. ‘I’m the one likely to be walking with a deuced limp for the rest of me life.’
‘Which might be very short,’ muttered Charity, hooking her arm around his bent elbow. ‘Right then Percy, on three.’ Taking a deep breath, she ground out, ‘One, two, three,pull…’
For a second there was no movement, then suddenly, the wood gave an ominous cracking sound, and the Reverend popped free, knocking both intrepid rescuers onto their backsides.
‘Thank you, God,’ Augustus Shackleford panted fervently.
Climbing to her feet, Charity gave a rude snort. ‘I rather think the Almighty should have left you there for the rest of the night,’ she declared, brushing the dust off her robe.
‘Heartless baggage,’ the Reverend muttered, wincing as he tried to get up. ‘Give me a hand, will you Percy. At this rate you’ll be carrying me upstairs.’
The curate sighed and pushed himself up onto his knees. Then bending forward, he looked into the hole the Reverend had just vacated and gasped. ‘I think you’ve broken it, Sir,’ he whispered.
Twisting round with a grimace, Reverend Shackleford groaned as he saw the panel of wood now hanging from the underneath of the desktop.
‘Tare an’ hounds,’ he mumbled. ‘Is there any way you can just push it back, Percy?’
‘I’ll have a look,’ the curate answered, sticking his head into the cramped space. Taking hold of the small panel of wood, he endeavoured to manoeuvre it upwards. ‘There’s something blocking it, Sir,’ he panted, tilting his head to the side in an attempt to get a better view.
‘Can you see anything?’ Charity’s head appeared upside down.
Without responding, Percy, eased his hand into the exposed space and felt around. After a few seconds, his fingers encountered a small flat package. ‘There’s something here,’ he grunted, trying to get hold of it. At length, he managed to hook his fingers over the object and flick it towards himself. With a rustle, it slid out of the space and dropped to the floor. Without stopping to see what it was, Percy gave the panel a good shove upwards and mercifully it stayed put. Breathing a sigh of relief, Percy picked up the small package and crawled backwards.
‘What is it?’ Both the Reverend and Charity spoke at the same time as they watched the curate turn the small parcel over in his hand.
Frowning, Percy looked up. ‘It looks like a bundle of letters tied together with ribbon,’ he murmured, handing them to the Reverend.
Charity hurried over to fetch the candle, and all three stared down at the small package, until the Reverend gave a smallchuckle before murmuring, ‘I’ll wager these are exactly what old Morgan Carlyon’s been looking for.’
Chapter Twenty
With fastidious care, Jack rinsed his hands in the chipped bowl. Truly, he’d have thought Fred would have learned his lesson after the business with his daughter. ‘Don’t kill him,’ he ordered his second. ‘Send him back to his crew. Perhaps when they spot the bastard’s missing fingers, they’ll finally get the message.’
The fisherman was hardly recognisable as he shambled from the small room Mary Noon had been imprisoned in only days earlier. ‘Wot if ‘e opens ‘is trap?’ Will questioned.
‘He won’t,’ Jack answered shortly. ‘Not if he doesn’t want to end up swinging from the top of his mast.’ He nodded towards the stumbling man. ‘Help him up the bloody ladder, he’ll never make it otherwise.’
After wiping his hands on a rag, the gang leader tossed the soiled cloth into the corner before taking a swig of brandy. As his henchman came back into the room, Jack handed him the bottle.
‘So, why’d ye think Fred took ‘em to Falmouth?’ Will queried, taking a mouthful and passing the bottle back. Wiping the rim with his sleeve, Jack didn’t answer for a second, then in a suddenfit of fury, he threw the bottle against the wall where it smashed, spewing its pungent contents all over the floor and wall.
‘I don’t know,’ he said through gritted teeth, but by the time I’ve finished with Jago Cardell, the bastard will be begging to tell me.’
∞∞∞
‘Who are they from?’ Charity asked, unable to quite contain her excitement.
‘Hold the candle higher, Percy,’ the Reverend muttered, ‘I can’t deuced well see.’
They were seated in Charity’s bedchamber having fled the sitting room as soon as they’d managed to get the Reverend off the floor. Fortunately, the clergyman didn’t appear to have developed a hunched back, and by the time his two companions had pushed and pulled him to the top of the stairs, he was able to walk largely unaided.
