“He’s weak. Threatened toconfess everything in parliament.”
“That’s not weak. It takesgreat courage.”
Caindale removed his arm and sat up.He stared at them with red eyes. “You don’t need to worry about me,Ryder. I’m all right now,” he said his voice a gutturalbark.
As he climbed unsteadily to his feethe staggered. Lightning fast, the Frenchman leaped forward, grabbedCaindale, and swung him between himself and Jack, an arm aroundCaindale’s neck. A knife had slipped from his sleeve and he held itto Caindale’s throat. “Drop the gun. Then I shall leave here, andyou can forget we ever met.”
Jack cursed. He was growing soft,should have searched him. “Reasonable of you. How can Iresist?”
“Don’t listen to him,Ryder,” Caindale said. “He’s killed Butterworth and the maid andwon’t have any qualms about killing you. You can’t trusthim.”
Renard bared his teeth in a snarl.“Both deaths were necessary, and you’ll be next.” His blade nickedCaindale’s throat and beads of blood ran down into hiscollar.
“Kill him and you’re deadtoo, Renard.”
“I’ll take my chances,monsieur. Pistols can misfire. Or you may not be such a goodshot.”
Jack dropped the pistol at his feet.The whites of Renard’s eyes revealed his panic. He’d made a seriouserror of judgment. Maybe his first, and possibly hislast.
Renard edged toward the door, draggingCaindale with him as a shield. Before he reached it, Caindale’sknees buckled, and he went down. With a foul curse, the Frenchmanraised the knife over the helpless man at his feet. Jack snatchedup the pistol and fired from a crouch. The deafening sound boomedaround the space as crimson blood spread across Renard’s forehead.With a surprised look, he crumpled to the floor.
Caindale rose slowly to his feet. Hestood looking down at the Frenchman. He nudged him with his boot.“Dead as a burnt-out cinder.”
“You said there were twomen, Caindale. The man who held up your coach and brought you backto London? Who is he?”
“Lies, all lies, designedto put you off,” Caindale said with a sad pull of his mouth. “Therewas only one. Renard was a convincing talker with the promise ofenough money to get this mill up and running. My role was just topave the way for a maid to join Butterstone’s household and searchhis luggage for any evidence of the plot.” He sighed, his foreheadcreased with pain. He put a finger to the cut on his injured throatwhich had turned his shirt collar red. “And I fell forit.”
Jack snatched up Caindale’s cravat andheld it out to him. “Press this against the wound and sit downsomewhere outside while I deal with the body. It’s better for noone to find it. Then we’ll fetch a doctor and hire a carriage totake you home. Lady Caindale is beside herself with worry and so isyour niece. You are fortunate to have such a lovingfamily.”
“I am.” Caindale found hishat and placed it on his head. “It’s more than Ideserve.”
Jack hefted Renard’s body up over hisshoulder and turned toward the door.
When he returned having loadedRenard’s pockets with rocks and dumped his body in the river,Caindale was slumped against a pillar, his blood-spotted cravattied around his neck. “My horse has gone lame. He’s at the stablesin the town. A cannon bone they say. But I’m not up to riding himin any event.”
“After you see the doctor,hire a carriage in Manchester. Your groom can fetch the horselater. We’ll double up, if you’re up to it.”
Caindale nodded. “I’ll manage. I’vecheated death. I’m eternally grateful to you, CaptainRyder.”
“No need.”
They walked out through a loading bay.The rain had eased leaving pools of water on the ground. Around thecorner, Arion neighed a welcome.
“You do believe me, don’tyou Ryder?” Caindale asked desperately. “I swear I never thoughtRenard would kill either Butterstone, or that poor maid. I hopedthat once he had the information he sought, the matter would be atan end. I feared for John should he continue to seek out thetruth.” He moaned softy. “Out of desperation, I made a terriblemistake. I needed the money to make improvements, to put in one ofthe new steam engines to drive the power. I need it to ensure theregularity of the yarn. As it is now we can’t compete. Every timethe water levels drop in the river during the summer it haltsproduction for months.”
Caindale stopped and turned pleadinglyto Jack. “My workers rely on me for their livelihood. They are indesperate straits.” He waved his hand toward the workers’ cottagesand the buildings which housed the young. “I’m fighting to continueto pay for food for those who still live here.” He straightened hisback. “The young are taught to read and write and can continue inother employment when they’re ready to leave. But I’ve had to putoff many of them. Without work, the girls will end up on thestreets. I’m constantly receiving letters from desperate peoplebegging me to start production again.” He glanced up at thelowering clouds promising more rain. “I cling to the hope that I’llbe able to raise the money to continue.”
While Jack couldn’t approve of whatCaindale had done, he did understand the man’s desperation. And heunderstood better why Ashley had tried to protect him. “Why didRenard consider it necessary to kill yourbrother-in-law?”
“Butterstone planned toconsult the French ambassador. But he was away from London when mybrother-in-law arrived back, so he didn’t get thechance.”
“Why string you up, why notshoot you?”
Caindale pulled a note fromhis waistcoat pocket. “Made me write this. He planned for my deathto look like a suicide–knew how close I was to losing everything.No one would question it.” Caindale tucked the letter back intoplace. “Some French intelligence officer was poking around, andRenard was feeling the heat in London. Didn’t want another murderwhich might lead back to him, particularly with the editor oftheLondon Chroniclesniffing out the story.”
Jack took the reins andmounted Arion. “So, Bonapartewaspoisoned. Why else would they go to all thistrouble?” He leaned a hand down for Caindale.
Caindale clasped hold of Jack’s hand.He put his foot in the stirrup and swung up behind him. “Not sure.But Renard said they’d been feeding him arsenic for some time.Small doses in his wine.”
