“Aye, not surprising,” another man added.
“What’s your business?” the first man asked, then groaned when he lost the round, watching as another collected the chips.
Collin glanced at his rapidly decreasing stack of chips and prepared to attempt to lose again. “Textiles,” he answered. It was an easy answer to a telling question, one that wouldn’t raise suspicion.
The dealer laid out the cards, and the group went silent as everyone made their bets and then the high and low cards were turned. “You in town for long?” an older man to Collin’s left asked, eyeing him quickly before studying the dealer.
Collin took a sip of his pint. “A few weeks or until my business is concluded.” He tried to think of a way to lead the conversation toward more significant topics that might ferret out information. “Heard there was a bit of a scrape last night around here. I must say, when my friend suggested this place, I was skeptical.”
“I told you it doesn’t happen often, and the cheater got his clock cleaned by Luke. Speaking of which, anyone seen him about? I’d like a piece of him myself,” Michael added after his quiet spell at the table.
The man beside Collin shook his head. “Nah, he ran off right away. Knew we’d all have taken after him if Luke hadn’t scared him off. But I don’t think he’ll stay away for long. Cheaters can’t resist a game.”
“True,” another murmured.
“I saw him,” the first man said as he placed a bet. “He saw me and ran. I was playing last night with Luke, so he recognized me. Quite the purple ring around his eye. Luke’s right hook is deserving of respect, that I’ll say.”
“Where did you see him?” Michael asked, lighting a cheroot.
Collin placed a bet, keeping his eye on the table as he pretended to count his chips.
“He was walking down the market street, then ducked behind a cart when he saw me. When he saw me watching him, he ran away. I was tempted to chase him down, give him a piece of my mind and fist, but the missus was waiting for me at home, and I’d get an earful there if I was late. You pick your battles.” He chuckled.
The men around the table echoed the sentiment with quiet guffaws and laughter.
“Had he played before? Or was this the first time you’d seen him? I’m guessing he’s not from around here,” Collin pressed, knowing he only had one or two more questions before his inquiry into the topic gained interest at the table, thus defeating the purpose.
“He was new, but it’s an old name he used. I’d heard it before, different man though.”
Collin schooled his features into passive interest. “You don’t say. What was the name?”
“Penderdale. Earl, I think. Lord Penderdale. I haven’t seen too many peers of the realm, but I’ll eat my hat if he was one of them.”
Collin laughed with the rest of the group at the statement. As he was formulating his next question. Michael jumped in with his own query. “I’ve heard it too. I wonder why it’s being circulated.”
“Probably a made-up name,” a rotund individual said, jerking his chin to the cards as if reminding them their focus should be on the game at hand.
Collin placed his bet and added a comment. “I’m from London, and I’ve heard the name. It’s not made up.”
“Interesting,” mumbled a slender man with a well-trimmed beard as he placed a chip on a card.
“It’s only recently I’ve heard it, so someone is trying to cover their own tracks, cheating their way through the countryside with some borrowed name. Charlatan,” the man beside Collin stated,leaning back in his chair. “The point is, I care little. I do, however, care that I don’t lose this hand,” he added with a grin.
There was a low rumble of agreement at the table as the topic shifted.
Collin placed three more rounds, then stood. Michael followed suit, and they excused themselves from the table and game. As they left The Hare, Luke nodded once in their direction, as if saying he was staying and would keep his eye out.
“Well, that was both helpful and not. I don’t think we’re any closer than we were when we arrived, but we did confirm that multiple people are using the name,” Collin said. “Which I already knew, but it’s still good to confirm.”
Michael pointed down the street. “This way to the next one. And I agree, but we also know the guy Luke decked is still in town and has a shiner. So, I say tomorrow we put our efforts into tracking him down.”
“Agreed.”
As they entered the next tavern, Collin took a deep breath. Trying to lose went against every instinct in his body, and he had to steel himself against the sensation of throwing a game.It’s like paying for information,he told himself, but that didn’t make it easier. When Michael found their targets, they joined the whist game and Collin settled in to listen, lose, and hopefully in the end win information.
The rest of the evening followed similarly to their first stop at The Hare, and as the working men retired for the night, Collin parted ways with Michael, with a plan to reconvene on the morrow at midday.
That night, Collin slept fitfully, a recurring dream plaguing him. He was climbing a cliff, heaven only knew why, and a rope was lowered from the top, promising a safer alternative to scaling the rock’s face. But every time he reached for the rope, it drifted just out of reach. His fingers would touch the edge, teasing him, and he would reach farther, sure salvation was at hand. Still he’d miss, and in his efforts, his other hand would slip, sending him plummeting to the darkness below. It was always then he’d wake up, cold as if he’d been in a room walled by ice. He awoke this time from the dream to sunshine bright and warm outside his window, though his skin was still chilly from the realistic dream. He closed his eyes and sank back into the pillows, eyes closed but very awake. With a deep sigh, he opened his eyes once more and rose from bed.
