“Peregrine doesn’t have their experience,” he pointed out.
“Which is why Raven and Hawk won’t allow him to do anything dangerous.”
Wrexford knew she was right, and yet it didn’t quiet the niggling feeling that the pieces of the investigation weren’t fitting together in any logical way. And that bothered him. After another turn, he came to a halt.
“I can’t make sense of how French political radicals tie into Milton’s murder. Why would social activists care enough about an engineering innovation to commit murder? What do they intend to do with it?”
“Perhaps Tyler learned more about their motives at this evening’s meeting,” said Charlotte.
He resumed his pacing, unable to keep from thinking aloud. “The radicals are focused on the workers and their struggles, not scientific developments. They clearly understand the significance of better roads and bridges, which would allow workers more choice in employment. But I just don’t see them risking all their primary goals by committing a single act of violence.”
“Hmmph,” grunted McClellan from her chair by the hearth. “Put that way, I have to agree,” she added, after finishing the last stitch on the sock she was darning and snipping the thread.
But before they could continue discussing the possible motivations of the radicals, the sound of footsteps in the adjoining library signaled that Tyler had returned.
The three of them turned in expectation, waiting for him to throw open the door.
A smile of grim satisfaction flashed through the shadows as the valet stepped into the room and spotted them.
“Well?” demanded the earl.
Tyler allowed a prolonged moment of silence before finally responding. “Eureka.”
“Bloody hell, Kit’s penchant for melodrama appears to have rubbed off on you,” retorted Wrexford. “Stubble the theatrics and just tell us what you’ve learned.”
A martyred sigh. “You might show a little more appreciation for my cleverness.” But sensing that the earl was in no mood for their usual verbal fencing, Tyler turned serious. “I’ve discovered a key connection and think it may lead us to Milton’s killer. My efforts to befriend one of the French radicals paid off tonight as I plied him with the piss-poor red wine served at their gathering place. Convinced that I am a comrade-in-arms in the fight against the ruling class, he confided in me that he and his friends soon expect to possess a momentous technological innovation that will allow them to make a great deal of money.”
He paused. “And that the proceeds would be used for the Higher Good.”
“What the devil did he mean by that?” asked Wrexford.
Tyler shook his head. “He realized that he had perhaps let slip more than he meant to, so I didn’t dare press him on that. I did, however, express admiration and ask how he had managed to make such a deal. And he said it was because a good friend from his school days—a fellow who is a staunch believer in the ideals of the radicals—happens to be one of the leaders of the French scientific society that is currently in London to attend the international conference on transportation.”
“Finally a connection,” murmured Charlotte.
“Perhaps,” muttered Wrexford, who wasn’t quite ready to accept the drunken ramblings of his valet’s newfound comrade.
“I understand your skepticism, milord. But apparently the radical group has given the member of the French scientific society money for a bribe to obtain the plans for the innovation—”
“That has to mean Milton’s secret,” interjected Charlotte.
“It’s hard to imagine otherwise,” agreed Wrexford.
“It’s also hard to imagine that the society member isn’t Mademoiselle Benoit,” said Charlotte.
“I don’t see how she could have committed the murder herself,” pointed out the earl. “If she’s involved—which I think is likely—then she has to have a co-conspirator.”
“I seem to recall you mentioning that Brunel said both the president of the French scientific society and Mademoiselle Benoit were experts on bridge design.”
“True,” mused Wrexford. “I suppose it makes sense that the two leaders of the group might be working together.”
“The Weasels are following the French radical to learn where he is lodging. That may reveal his co-conspirators,” began Tyler.
But before he could go on, the sudden flurry of steps in the corridor announced that the boys had returned.
“Wrex! M’lady!” Raven burst into the workroom first, with Hawk and Peregrine right on his heels. “We followed the Frenchman to a house near Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and he is definitely up to something havey-cavey—”
“Blackmail!” announced Peregrine.
