Johnno entered the breakfast room, his cap jammed atop his auburn mop. The tense lines on the waterman's face eased when he spotted Ambrose.
"Mr. Kent, well met." Johnno came forward eagerly. "Me and the fellows at Wapping have been wondering about you. Heard about the shooting and—"
"I'm fine as you can see." Standing, Ambrose exchanged handshakes. "Tell us your news, Johnno."
The waterman's gaze darted to Marianne, who remained seated with an outward air of calm. Yet Ambrose could read the anxiety in her pallor, in the way her hands clenched in her lap, and he prayed the waterman had good news to share.
"Coyner was keeping the girl up at 'is place in Northampton," Johnno blurted.
A collective breath was released into the room.
"Do you have them?" Marianne's voice quivered with tension.
The waterman shook his head. "No, milady. 'Fraid not."
Ambrose put an arm around Marianne's shoulders as Lady Harteford said sharply, "Where are they, then?"
"On the run." Johnno tore his cap off in disgust, twisting it in his hands. "The suspect must've caught wind o' trouble. I interviewed the servants, and they said 'e left with the little miss and 'er governess the day before we arrived." Clearing his throat, he said, "From what I was told, Coyner treated the girl like a princess. The staff believed she was 'is ward, and apparently there was nothing... untoward 'appening. At least, nothing that the servants knew of."
A shuddering breath left Marianne. Her shoulders sagged as if she could no longer support herself. Ambrose held her tighter, willed her strength.
"It'll be alright," he said in a low voice. "We'll have her back soon." Turning to Johnno, he said, "Where is Coyner now?"
"Squirrely bastard went by a different name up in Northampton, and 'e's stayed one step ahead o' us, dodgin' this way an' that," Johnno said, scowling. "Last I knew 'e was bound south through Hertfordshire. Caster's still on their tail."
"Caster is one of my men. He excels at tracking," Ambrose told the group.
"We decided I should come and tell you the news. And to see if you've any idea of where Coyner might be 'eaded. Best to 'ead 'im off at the pass," Johnno said.
Ambrose frowned. "France seems most likely. But we haven't proof." He looked to Marianne. "There was nothing in Coyner's study to indicate his intentions?"
Her celadon gaze glimmered with frustration. "We didn't find anything."
"The three of us searched thoroughly," Harteford said. "Lady Draven, you had Coyner's personal effects from his desk brought here, did you not?"
"I've gone through it all with a fine-toothed comb," Marianne said.
"I'll take a look. Fresh eyes," Ambrose said.
Marianne led the way to the drawing room. The group formed a ring around the open box on the coffee table. Rummaging through the contents, Ambrose found the sort of paraphernalia one would find in any office desk.
"That's the sum of it," Marianne said.
Ambrose continued to rifle through the objects: assorted quills, an inkwell, and sheets of blank parchment. Picking up a leather-bound notebook, he flipped through the pages and found them blank. He tossed that aside and lifted a crumpled sheet from the bottom of the box. His blood pumped with sudden ferocity.
"You found this in Coyner's desk?" he said.
"Endeavor to show indefatigable courage. The implacable receive their just rewards." Marianne recited the words, her voice dull with despair.
"Well, lad?" Ambrose said to his waterman.
A grin split across Johnno's face. "Bloody hell, Coyner's headed toDover."
"My thoughts exactly." Satisfaction surged through Ambrose. "Alert the men at Wapping and let Sir Birnie at Bow Street know as well. We'll nab Coyner at the port."
"Aye, sir." Johnno ran off.
"I don't understand," Marianne burst out from behind him. "How do you know from that note that he's headed to Dover?"
