Caleb spoke up. “Assuming what you are saying is true…”
“It is,” Mr. Barnard said.
“… why should we trust you?” Caleb asked.
Mr. Barnard took a sip of his drink before saying, “Kendrick trusts me. I would assume that his agents would fall into line.”
“Pray tell, how do you know Kendrick?” Roswell questioned.
“When you saw me exiting the bakery, I had just met with Kendrick and informed him of my involvement,” Mr. Barnard explained. “That is why when I saw you and Mr. Bolingbroke enter the bakery, it led me to assume you two were spies.”
What Mr. Barnard was saying seemed probable, but Roswell still had a few more questions. “It is mighty convenient for you that our headquarters was compromised and Kendrick isn’t around to verify your story,” he remarked.
“I had nothing to do with that,” Mr. Barnard asserted. “Besides, I do not work for Kendrick. I work for Wellington and it was just a professional courtesy to inform him of our involvement.”
A red-haired serving wench approached the table and asked, “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Nothing for me,” Roswell replied.
Caleb reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a coin. As he handed it to the serving wench, he said, “Bring me your finest ale.”
“Right away, sir,” the serving wench responded as she walked away.
Roswell looked at Caleb. “You do know the ale is terribly watered down in establishments such as this.”
“I am aware but I am parched.” Caleb grew solemn as he shifted his gaze towards Mr. Barnard. “I think this is the part where we both share what we know and we attempt to work together.”
Mr. Barnard scoffed. “Are my words falling on deaf ears? I do not want to work with either of you.”
Caleb appeared unaffected by Mr. Barnard’s words. “Whether you like it or not, we are both investigating the same case, and it would be beneficial if we helped one another, rather than work against each other.”
“Fine, but I hope I don’t regret this,” Mr. Barnard responded. “From the coded messages we intercepted, we were able to determine that Lord Oxley is always referred to as ‘BB.’”
“BB.” Caleb groaned. “Benjamin Bolingbroke. How did we miss that?” He paused. “We discovered that Lord Chester was making large deposits and he would always use the line item ‘BB.’”
“We were aware of Lord Chester’s involvement and that is why we had no choice but to act,” Mr. Barnard revealed.
“You killed Lord Chester?” Roswell asked.
Mr. Barnard pressed his lips together. “It was for the greater good. Lord Chester wasn’t going to stop, and he was a traitor.”
Caleb placed his forearm on the table and leaned in. “Are you planning on killing my father?” he asked.
“I am only doing what Wellington directs me to do,” Mr. Barnard attempted. “But he isn’t good to us dead until we discover who he is working with.”
“My father is being threatened,” Caleb said.
Mr. Barnard didn’t look convinced. “That is what he wants you to think, but you are too close to this situation. I think it is best if you took a step back and let me handle it.”
“Why, so you can kill my father?” Caleb asked, his voice rising.
With a glance around the room, Mr. Barnard chided, “Lower your voice. We do not want people to take heed of us.”
The serving wench sashayed over to the table and placed the tankard down in front of Caleb. “Will there be anything else?”
“No,” Caleb replied.
As the serving wench walked away, Mr. Barnard said, “Just so you know, this is not personal. I am merely obeying orders.”
