Moments later, the door opened, and another man slipped through. Their lighted lanterns shone through the windows of the salon.
Before one of the men closed the curtains, Flynn saw only two of them roaming the salon. Where was Crowthorne? He cursed. “Go after Crowthorne, one of you,” he said. “Before he gets away.”
A loud crash echoed out from inside the house.
Flynn held his men back.
When further bangs were followed by a startled cry, Flynn jumped to his feet. “Let’s go.”
Flynn ran into the house with Bricks and one of his men at his heels. They burst into the salon to find the two robbers levering paneling off the wall. They swung around, mouths agape.
Flynn sized them up, one a low criminal by his dress, the other a gray-haired man with expensive clothes, obviously gentry. Hazelton. Flynn recognized him from the inn in Canterbury. “Drop your weapons,” Flynn ordered. “Legs apart, hands behind your heads.”
The robber’s surly face scowled at him while Hazelton’s chin drooped. They pulled firearms from their pockets and dropped them at his feet. Bricks gathered them up.
“What have you found?” Flynn asked them.
“Not a thing,” The robber muttered. “And I got a splinter in me ’and for me pains.”
Flynn nodded at Bricks. “Search them.”
“Take your coats and boots off,” Bricks ordered.
“What for?” Hazelton asked, affronted. “I am a gentleman.”
“Do it now unless you prefer to be a dead gentleman. Dead gentlemen don’t need coats.” Bricks prodded Hazelton with his gun for emphasis.
Not a man to be denied, Bricks. With a grim sense of satisfaction Flynn watched Hazelton struggle out of his coat.
The two men stood in their stockinged feet, the robber cursing foully.
“This blade is all, my lord.” Bricks held up a cutthroat razor from the robber’s coat.
“Where has your leader gone?” Flynn asked.
“Left us to do ’is dirty work, ’e did,” the robber said bitterly.
They swung around at the sound of boots on the step. Flynn’s man walked in, shoving Crowthorne ahead of him. “We got ’im, skulking off to ’is ’orse.”
“So, Crowthorne,” Flynn said, “Bow Street will be keen to take a good look at what you’ve been up to.”
Crowthorne shrugged. “I advise you to let me go, Montsimon. If you value Lady Brookwood’s life.”
Flynn stiffened. “What do you know of Lady Brookwood?”
“I have her tucked away. In a place where you won’t find her.”
Flynn’s anger became a scalding fury. He grabbed Crowthorne by his immaculate cravat, twisting it until the man’s face went purple. “Tell me where she is. Right now. If you want to live through the night.”
Crowthorne struggled, his hands at his throat. “I have left orders for her to be killed if I don’t send word by morning.”
Flynn stared into the man’s hooded eyes. “You lie!”
“I took her from your coach, Montsimon, on the road to London. She is mine, right enough.”
Fear stabbed into Flynn’s chest like a hot poker. He loosened his hand around Crowthorne’s neck before he gave in to the urge to kill him. “Where is she, Crowthorne?”
“Surely you don’t expect me to tell you? Lady Brookwood is my insurance until I leave England. She’s a pretty piece. I may even take her with me.”
