A chuckle bubbled from Collin’s throat as he held up two shillings at that. “Where?”
The boy nodded toward a building that had a shingle reading “Apothecary.”
Collin repeated the word, earning a nod from the boy, and he paid him. “Did he go in there? And when?”
The boy waited, and Collin dug in his pocket and withdrew a few more coins.
“A few hours ago. I live down the street and don’t like that place. People go in the front, afterward go out the back. Odd.”
“So, he could have gone out the back?”
“That would be my guess.” He shrugged, took the coins, and then ran off.
“Apothecary,” Collin whispered under his breath. He walked over to the building and stood under the shingle, studying the door. No windows on the front of the store to let in light, not like any apothecary he’d seen in London. Odd indeed.
He checked the doorknob and found it open. After swinging the door inward, he entered slowly. The dim room came into focus after a moment, a few candles on the wooden countertop casting a vague glow in the room.
“Can I help you?”
Collin turned toward the voice and nodded, quickly taking in the details of the man who spoke. He was of middle age, with an immaculately trimmed mustache and clothing that spoke of quality. The man rested his hands on the well-worn countertop and waited.
“Yes, I’m searching for a headache remedy,” Collin answered. It was a common reason to visit an apothecary.
“I’m afraid I’m about to close,” the man answered swiftly.
Collin’s suspicions grew. What apothecary worththeir salt didn’t have any willow bark or other sort of remedy on hand for a headache? Testing his theory, he waved a hand and said, “I’ll come back tomorrow.” He turned to leave.
The man’s voice halted him. “I’m sold out until I receive more. You may want to try the apothecary near Trinity Street.”
Collin thanked him and went out the door, thinking over the details he was able to gather while inside.
The shop boasted apothecary paraphernalia and tools, with a brass scale on the counter collecting dust. It had certainly been some time since its last use. All the other apothecaries he’d ever visited held glass jars of various contents used for healing remedies, while this shop had bare shelves. But it was the smell that was his first clue. Apothecaries all had a particular scent of dried herbs and lavender, with a minor burning tinge of whatever tincture was just opened. It was a welcoming scent, but was not present there. The shop’s air was the same as outside, as if the doors had been opened and closed often—odd for a nonworking apothecary—or there was an open door in the rear as the boy had stated, constantly allowing airflow.
Collin started down the street, taking a longer route than necessary in case he was being watched, and afterward rounded a building that would take him around to the back of the apothecary in a blockor two. The boy had said that men went into the apothecary through the front but left through the back, and Collin was going to see for himself. If the man who had received him when he’d entered the apothecary was present, Collin would be recognized immediately. He glanced both ways and crossed to the other side of the street. His clothes were not conspicuous—it was common to have a dark-brown overcoat—and he pulled his hat down further on his face as he drew closer.
The street was quiet, and that also struck him as odd. It wasn’t so late that there wouldn’t be other people milling about, but he shrugged off the detail and focused on the building ahead and across the street. A wagon with a team of old bays waited as it was loaded up with a few crates. Several men made short work of the crates and then disappeared into the back of the building. The driver headed down the road ahead of Collin. He made the decision to follow the wagon rather than linger behind the apothecary and risk being seen. At least the driver of the wagon wouldn’t recognize him.
The horses were not in rush as they continued down the road, and Collin could easily keep them in sight. After a few blocks, they turned down another street that would lead out of Cambridge. Collin jogged a few steps to catch up a little. The driver scanned the street, his scrutiny landing on Collin, who ducked his head and turned at the next roadto ward off suspicion. He waited around the corner until he could see the wagon pass along the original street, and he once again followed, only this time he kept a slender building between them, using the alleyways between to keep an eye on the wagon. As he passed the third alleyway, he lost track of the wagon, so he backtracked to the previous alleyway and crept forward, carefully checking the street for his quarry. When he didn’t see it, he stepped onto the street and noted the directions possibly taken.
He selected a tight alley, and darted down cautiously, hearing the sound of echoing hooves. When the sound stopped, Collin paused and listened. The stone walls of the alleyway allowed the sound of men’s voices to echo. The sound was far too muddled for him to grasp the words, but he carefully inched forward. The alley ended in another street, and he leaned against the wall. After taking a deep breath, he removed his hat and peeked around, just enough to see. The driver of the wagon was shaking the hand of another man. As the second man turned toward the back of the wagon, Collin’s eyes widened. It was their mystery man with the black eye! He withdrew from the corner.
He needed a plan.
And not one that would see him overcome because he was outnumbered. The fellow bandit would recognize him, so sauntering across the street to get a clearer view was out of the question.But he needed to determine what was being hauled in those crates; clearly somehow it was all related.
Too bad Michael wasn’t present. He’d have a better chance at going unnoticed and thus getting closer. Collin sighed. If he was foolish, he’d just hang the consequences and dare to be recognized as he got a closer look, but as it was, they would likely just move the operation somewhere else, and he’d have to start over in his search. No, he’d be wise and note the location to come back later. He noted the street names and then went off to find Michael.
Before he could meet with Michael, he had to take care to hide Elizabeth’s satchel. He couldn’t exactly wear it into the pub, that was for certain. Collin crossed several blocks to a more populated street and hired a hack to take him back home. He would deposit Elizabeth’s satchel there and return to Michael to communicate what he’d found.
In short order, the satchel was taken care of, and the hack was rolling to a stop in front of the Horsehair Pub. Collin stepped out and paid the driver, then went into the well-lit building. The sound of conversation and laughter eased some of his tension. After scanning the crowd, he spotted Michael talking with a gray-haired man at the edge of the bar. He approached them, waving at the barkeeper for a pint as he closed the distance.
“Michael.” He nodded, then turned to the other man. “Oxley,” Collin said, introducing himself.
“Thomas.” The man took Collin’s offered hand.
“Tom was talking to me about an odd situation that I found interesting,” Michael said, lifting his pint to his lips.
Collin ignored his own thirst and turned to Thomas. “Oh?”
