The three men looked at each other, before saying in concert, ‘A cellar!’
Hurriedly, Nicholas called for a carriage to be brought round, and within fifteen minutes, they were on their way to Whitechapel. Naturally, on receiving the Duke’s order not to spare the horses, Joseph was in his element. Indeed, even Jimmy, who was accustomed to uncomfortable carriage rides found himself offering a small prayer of thanks as he finally clambered down.
The gates were locked, and the large building looked deserted, but at the Duke’s suggestion, they followed the perimeter until they came upon a section of the wrought iron fence that was considerably lower. Without hesitation, all three climbed over, swiftly making their way towards the shadow of the building.
Unsurprisingly, the main door was locked, but again, they skirted round the edge until they came to a small door whose lock had been recently broken. ‘This must have been where Lizzy got in,’ Jimmy whispered.
Cautiously, Nicholas pushed open the door, leading them into a dark hall. To their left was a narrow staircase, while directly in front, another door. Reasoning that they wouldn’t be looking for a cellar upstairs, the three men stepped through the door and found themselves in the den’s foyer.
The windows high in the wall were covered in black fabric cutting out the light. But on one window, the cloth had torn, allowing the weak early afternoon sunlight to shine on items of furniture that had clearly seen better days.
‘Well, they certainly weren’t making a fortune from gaming,’ Christian commented looking round.
‘Let’s split up,’ the Duke suggested, ‘we’ll cover more ground that way. I think we’re looking for a small door, likely well-hidden since the Runners found nothing the last time they were here. The three men started in different corners. A quick search of the foyer revealed no hidden doors, so they went into the main gambling hall.
Tables were set up around the room, but here there was hardly any light at all due to the complete absence of windows. ‘Bloody hell, this is a death trap if ever I saw one,’ the Duke muttered, pushing the double doors wide open to let in a modicum of light.
Quickly now, they began working their way around the outside, pulling aside false drapes and occasional tables. It took them half an hour, but they found nothing.
‘Mayhap we were wrong,’ Christian growled. ‘There’s no secret entrance hidden within these walls.’
‘It has to be here,’ reasoned Nicholas. ‘They would be expecting a packed house and would need a large space to get the spectators inside as quickly as possible.’
Abruptly, Jimmy went over to the first table and began pushing it. ‘Try the others,’ he grunted, pulling aside the threadbare carpet underneath. Without further ado, they each began shifting the tables and lifting up the rugs underneath. Within ten minutes they’d found it. Two large trap doors with room enough for four people to descend the steps at the same time.
‘We need some light,’ Nicholas murmured peering into the stygian depths below. The smell coming up stank of mould, damp and something else. Hurrying to one of the side tables decorating the walls, Jimmy picked up a half-used candle in its holder and lit it with the flint in his pocket. Back at the entrance to the cellar, he handed the candle holder to the Duke. Glancing round at the tense faces of the other two men, Nicholas murmured, ‘Stay close to me,’ before descending into the darkness.
The flickering candlelight barely penetrated a quarter of the cellar. The roped-off area where the fight would take place was in the middle, and round it were rows of benches, the furthest ones swallowed by the darkness.
‘They could squeeze more than five hundred in here,’ breathed Christian as he looked round. ‘God forbid they should have a fire.’ He shuddered and shook his head. ‘What the bloody hell is that smell?’
Slowly the three men made their way between the benches towards the very back of the cavernous room until they came to another door, this one securely locked. ‘Where the devil is Patience when you need her,’ muttered the Duke. Lord Cottesmore frowned in confusion at the strange comment.
Jimmy didn’t speak, but bent down to eye the keyhole, then rummaged around inside his right pocket, at length pulling out a small pin.
‘I forgot we had someone with us every bit as industrious as my sister-in-law,’ Nicholas commented drily as he held the candle closer to the lock. Jimmy glanced over his shoulder and gave a quick grin. ‘We were both taught by the best,’ he quipped.
Nicholas held up his hand, trying to stifle a smile. ‘I’m entirely sure I don’t want to know,’ was all he said. Christian frowned, vowing to get to the bottom of the Duke’s strange comments as soon as this damn business was finished.
With a soft chuckle, Jimmy expertly inserted the pin in the lock, and seconds later there was a soft click. With a last look at the two men flanking him, the youth, turned the handle and pushed open the door.
The stench that hit them had all three stumbling back. ‘What the bloody hell?’ muttered Christian, covering his nose and mouth with his arm. Eyes watering, the Duke held a kerchief over his nose and stepped towards the open doorway, lifting the candle high. At first all they could make out was a large sack, but reluctantly stepping closer, Nicholas saw something sticking out the bottom. Glancing at each of his companions, he moved closer and crouched down, holding the candle towards the object.
Which even in the meagre candlelight they could tell was a foot.
∞∞∞
It turned out the Right Honourable Josiah Winters’s real name was Archie Phelps. A Captain Sharp through and through with a particular flair for cutting a wheedle, he’d been on the run from an unfortunate incident with a wealthy widow in Nottingham when he first met John Witherspoon five years earlier. The two had hit it off straight away, and the former Fourth Lieutenant had been keen to show his new friend the gambling den he owned.
Unfortunately, such establishments were ten a penny in London, and at the time of meeting Phelps, he and Fletcher were making a meagre living at best. But Archie was a man with grand ideas, even though he was entirely lacking in funds to bring any of them to fruition.
And the building Witherspoon owned had an added bonus. A huge cellar which ran under the entirety of the building.
The perfect space to stage a fight.
Whilst frowned upon, boxing matches were not actuallyillegalunder normal circumstances. But the fights in the cellar of theFlying Horsewould have one big difference.
Only one of the contestants would leave the ring alive.
