For an instant, the librarian looked completely confused by the earl’s sarcasm, and then his expression segued into one of shock. “Gott in Himmel, you think . . .”
He paused to wipe the dirt from his spectacles and place them back on the bridge of his nose. “You think me in league with the blackguards?”
“You have an ungodly knack of being the one to find the key information that my wife and I are searching for, and at just the opportune moment,” he replied. “Why do you think that is?”
“Because the skills required to be a good scholar and historian make me an excellent sleuth,” answered von Münch, his usual mild manner edged with a touch of fire. “Part of my work involves searching for clues in old documents in order to piece together a true and accurate story of some event in the past. I’m patient and meticulous, milord. I’ve learned to look at things and see connections that others might miss.”
Wrexford felt his jaw tighten. As a man of science, he knew it was unwise to jump to conclusions based on circumstantial evidence.
And yet . . .
“You had mentioned that you were looking into the military officers who served in the same regiment as Greeley and your brother but so far had uncovered no connection. That got me to thinking,” continued von Münch. “Your reasoning was sound, so I decided to dig a little deeper. It occurred to me that as Taviot was part of a diplomatic mission to the Peninsula, the delegation might also have included an army officer to represent the military’s interests in any negotiations. So I did some research, and as my connection to King Frederick—and therefore to the British royal family—allowed me access to the necessary records, I discovered that Colonel Jarvis was indeed part of Taviot’s delegation.”
The explanation forced Wrexford to concede that he had been guilty of assuming that librarians were naught but musty scholars who lived in an abstract world of ideas and spent all their time with their noses buried in books.
“But the key clue came when I noticed that he had requested to move from the Foreign Office to serve as head of security for the Royal Navy laboratories at the King’s Dockyard. Given all the evidence, it seemed to me that he must be in league with Taviot.”
The librarian lifted his chin and locked eyes with Wrexford. “So I wanted to warn you without delay of the danger.”
“It seems that I owe you an apology,” began the earl, pausing as Horatio came running to join them.
“Lord Wrexford!” The midshipman, now dressed in his uniform, came to a halt and bobbed a bow. “I have some bad news! Mr. Tilden received an urgent summons from a sick family member yesterday afternoon and immediately departed for Yorkshire.”
“Damnation,” muttered Wrexford. “That seems a rather suspicious coincidence.”
“I agree, sir,” answered Horatio. “The thing is, Commodore Mather, the commanding officer here at the Dockyard, is a bit rigid and a stickler for going by the rule book. Without official orders from Horse Guards or the Admiralty directing him to cooperate with you, I fear we will spend the day trying to work through the military bureaucracy.”
Wrexford swore again.
“But if I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, milord . . .” ventured Horatio.
“Fire away, Midshipman Porter.”
“Well, sir, I command a unit of thirty men. And, um, I believe I’ve earned a modicum of loyalty from them by standing up on occasion to my superiors and arguing against disciplinary action for some trivial offense.” Horatio glanced around at the deserted courtyard. “As you see, the bell has not rung awakening the dockyard to its daily duties. I could summon my men for an urgent security mission, and I don’t think they would question my authority to do so. I could open the armory for weapons and dispatch a group of them to take two of the longboats and row you to Isle of Dogs, while I fire up our other prototype steamboat and—”
“Do it,” interrupted Wrexford. “And quickly.”
Horatio pointed to one of the jetties. “Wait there, sir,” he said, and then sprinted away toward the barracks.
“You know where the villains are hiding?” asked von Münch.
“Yes,” answered the earl. He gave a rapid-fire account of what had happened the previous evening.
“Your wife was injured, and Lady Peake has been taken prisoner?” The librarian’s expression hardened. “I’ll come with you. You may need someone to watch your back.”
“I appreciate your courage,” replied Wrexford, “but have you ever actually handled a firearm?”
“It seems you are making another assumption about librarians and our practical skills, milord.” A twinkle gleamed behind the lenses of von Münch’s spectacles. “As a matter of fact, my father was a champion marksman and won many shooting competitions in Württemberg.” He drew a pistol from his pocket. “I’ve been honing my skills since I was a boy and consider myself a decent shot.”
Spotting an empty bottle perched atop one of the pilings at the river’s edge, he pointed it out to the earl, then took dead aim and squeezed the trigger.
Wrexford watched the glass explode in a shower of shards and allowed a grim smile. “Reload your bloody pistol and come with me.”
* * *
The sound of a muffledbangfrom the other side of the river made Charlotte flinch. “That sounded like a pistol shot,” she whispered, shifting closer to Sheffield within their hiding place among the tall reeds.
They both held themselves very still. To Charlotte, the pounding of her heart sounded louder than cannon fire as they strained to hear anything more through the rustling of the breeze.
