“As luck would have it, aneighbor, Dillon Adair, is in town and has offered me a lift. I’llgo and arrange it.” With an eager smile, Cathleen slipped out thedoor.
One good thing about all of this wasmeeting Cathleen. How fond she was of her already. Even though herplan to take her home to England had come to naught, she was gladto have helped her. She just wished she had a better explanation tooffer her father. She took up paper and pen and braced herself towrite the letter, the result of which would be like prodding abeehive.
Chapter Fifteen
“How d'youdo,Captain Ryder.”The long-faced dandy in the seat opposite tucked the pistol intothe back of his buff pantaloons. His collar sat uncomfortably highunder his chin, his waistcoat an alarming shade of puce. Severalfobs and seals hung on a gold chain from his pocket watch. Hisuneasy glance took in Jack’s shoulders. “I apologize for thedramatics, but it’s urgent that we speak with you.”
“We?” Jack struggled not totake the man by his ridiculous lapels and shove him out into thestreet. “Then I advise you to get on with it.” He glanced out thewindow as the carriage took off again. “Where are wegoing?”
Atworth looked faintly alarmed.“Patience, I beg you. Just a short way along Fleet Street. We arevisiting an associate of mine, Mr. Welby.”
Jack lifted his eyebrows.“The editor ofThe LondonGazette?”
“The same.”
“And why would Mr. Welbywish to see me?” Jack asked curtly. “I’ve nothing of interest totell him.”
“Maybe more than you areaware of at this precise moment, Captain Ryder.”
“I read his articleinThe London Gazetteconcerning Bonaparte’s death. A well writtenpiece.”
“But not comprehensiveenough,” Lord Atworth stated, folding his arms.
Jack narrowed his eyes. “I’ve heardthe rumors same as you. No story in that. But if you’re looking tome to prove that Bonaparte didn’t die from natural causes, you aredestined to be disappointed.”
“You are too humble,Captain Ryder. The undercover work you performed for GeneralColquhoun Grant has been highly regarded in many circles. Yourinterest in Bonaparte’s death has led us to suspect you are afterthe truth. As are we.”
Jack studied the man’s nervous hazeleyes. “I’m keen to know how you came to thatconclusion.”
“You were seen enteringLord Caindale’s residence and also paid a call on Colonel Bascombe.Shortly afterward, you visited Butterstone’s home in Mayfair. We’vesince learned you were present at the marquess’ death. We areinterested in what Butterstone may have told you before he gaspedhis last. You’ve come from his funeral at St. Paul’s, have younot?”
“You’re wrong there. Didn’tattend it. Why are you watching Caindale? Butterstone told menothing. You waste your time following me.”
“Perhaps. We shallsee.”
Jack considered the initials writtenin Butterstone’s diary. Lord A and Mr. W. Unlikely to becoincidental. Had these two men been part of a plot to killBonaparte? Then why seek him out? Were they afraid of imminentdiscovery and wished to learn how close he was to the truth? IfCaindale was to be believed, the French were hot on the Englishplotters’ trail. But none of this fitted. Somehow the parts didn’tadd up to the whole.
Jack leaned back, having decided notto tackle the gentleman seated opposite and exit the coach. He’dgrown interested in what they might tell him. “I can understand Mr.Welby would be after the story of the century, but where do you fitin, my lord? A serious interest it would seem if it requireskidnapping me at gunpoint.”
Atworth looked slightly embarrassed.“These are troubling times, Captain Ryder. Let us discuss it oncewe are inside.” He glanced out the window as the carriage rocked toa stop. “Ah, here we are.”
The newspaper office was empty ofstaff. The printing press stood silent although the acrid aroma ofprinter’s ink and newspaper still permeated the air. Mr. Welby, aslight gentleman with gray wings at his temples, and sharp eyes,introduced himself. “Let’s go into my office where we can be morecomfortable.”
Jack followed the men into the smallroom and took the seat nearest the door. “I’ll give you an hour,gentlemen, after which, I have an appointment.”
Jack accepted the offer of whiskey andwaited for the two men to settle themselves. “Did you gentlemenmeet with Lord Butterstone in Paris?”
Lord Atworth smiled without humor. “Ithought we were to ask the questions, Captain.”
“Then you are in error. Youknow my involvement in this affair such as it is. Now I wish toknow yours.”
“You’re right. We werecalled to Paris, Captain.” Welby swirled the golden liquid in hisglass. “Butterworth told us quite a story. We were sworn tosecrecy, however.”
Jack put down his glass. “I might aswell leave then.”
“No need. We trust you tokeep it close,” Lord Atworth hastened to say. “Some gentlemen haddiscussed the possible disposal of Bonaparte, but Wellingtonwouldn’t have a bar of it. Not the honorable thing in his view.When an officer at the battle of Waterloo told Wellington thatNapoleon was in their gun sights, he replied that it was ‘not thebusiness of commanders to be firing on one another.’”
“But some are not sosqueamish. It was feared Bonaparte would make another attempt toescape, and possibly succeed as he had at Elba, then take thethrone again as Emperor. We’d have another conflict on our hands ata time when England is in a poor state after years of war.Butterworth was worried that should any poisoning be successful,and the English were found to be the culprits, it would cause aserious diplomatic incident.
