“Milord.” Riche entered the earl’s workroom after giving a knock on the door.
“Ah, is it time for tea?” asked Sheffield, looking up from the novel he was reading.
“Good God, we just finished breakfast. Given how much food you consume, it’s a wonder you don’t weigh more than an ox,” observed Wrexford, which earned a snicker from Tyler, who was busy polishing the scientific instruments on the far side of the room.
Setting aside Ashton’s technical drawings, he checked the clock on the sideboard, then raised an inquiring brow at his butler. He had only a half hour before he must leave for his appointment at the Royal Institution. “Yes, Riche?”
“Master Thomas Ravenwood Sloane wishes to speak with you.”
“Show him in.”
Sheffield looked surprised. “Has Mrs. Sloane a younger brother?”
“It was decided that the Weasels needed proper Englishnames to fit into their new neighborhood. Be assured the civilizing effect is only skin deep . . .” As Raven entered the room, covered in more than his usual filth, the earl quickly added, “If that much.”
“We’ve alerted our friends,” said Raven without preamble. “They’ll meet me in the alleyway behind St. Stephen’s church in an hour te receive their instructions.”
“Excellent,” replied the earl. “Sheffield has ascertained that Lord Kirkland is playing cards at White’s and will be there for the rest of the afternoon. McKinlock is attending a lecture at the Royal Institution, and my footman has confirmed with Miss Merton that Mrs. Ashton hasn’t left her townhouse. So we may put the surveillance into place.”
The boy nodded alertly, but to Wrexford’s eye, his expression looked a little clouded.
“Is something amiss, lad?”
Raven hesitated before answering, “Skinny hasn’t been seen since the day before yesterday, and it isn’t like him te be gone from his spot sweeping the muck on Silver Street.”
“Perhaps he’s feeling poorly.”
“Naw, that wouldn’t keep him from work,” replied Raven. “Ye can’t afford te be ill.”
Friends were friends, reflected Wrexford, no matter what age or social standing. “Let’s give it another day, then we’ll see what we can do.” Though there was precious little, he feared. The perils for an urchin living alone in the stews were too numerous to count.
Raven knew that as well as he did, and merely shrugged. “Not much anyone can do if the Reaper decides it’s yer time.”
True, but it was sobering to hear such a hardened sentiment from a boy so young. Still, he’d not insult him with sentimental claptrap. Instead, Wrexford changed the subject.
“Where’s your brother?”
“In the stables, looking at yer horses.” The boy shot him a wary look. “Do ye mind?”
“Not at all.” The earl picked up his notebook and perched a hip on his desk. “Let us set the surveillance assignments, shall we?”
The next few minutes were spent going over logistics. The plan was for a pair of urchins to shadow Kirkland, McKinlock and the widow—one to race back to inform them if the two suspects met, while the other remained in place. As Wrexford had learned from Charlotte, the master at gathering information, few people paid any attention to children, which made them the perfect spies.
Raven was sharp-witted and though he noted the details in his head rather than on paper, Wrexford was confident that all would run like clockwork.
“Just one last thing. Remind your friends that their quarries must be considered highly dangerous. They are to shadow them from a distance, that’s all. Understood?
“Oiy.” The boy shuffled his feet, seeming loath to leave, even though their business was now done. “Can I ask ye a question? It’s about numbers.”
The earl noticed that Tyler stopped his polishing and cocked an ear. “Of course, lad.”
“M’lady and ye were talking about the page of numbers ye found with the second murdered cove. Ye sent it te some expert in mathematics, and I was just wondering whether ye really think numbers can be made to hide a message?”
“Yes, there’s a long history of numbers being used to construct codes, lad. The trouble is, there are infinite possibilities, so the chances of our figuring out which system is being used are not good.”
“Even for an expert,” added Tyler. “I’ve been taking a long look at the possibilities myself, and from what I can tell, it may be a variation of a Vigenère square that uses both numbers and letters. But if so, we’re hopelessly out of luck, for one needs to know the key word. So we had better pray it’s one of the others.”
“No word yet from Milner?” interrupted the earl.
