Page 45 of Thief Taker

Elias kept his eye on the door to the back room and sipped his ale, waiting for Nate Tanner to return with Hutch.

He’d been gone a suspiciously long time and Elias tried not to think about what they might be doing back there. The pair of them billed and cooed like newlyweds.

Dangerous, in his view, to be so obvious. Liable to land you up in front of the beak.

Even so, as it always did, Tanner’s intense friendship with Hutchinson unsettled him. Such entanglements were risky and had already exposed both men to danger and distress, yet despite that their partnership had endured. In fact, it appeared to be proof against all adversity.

Grudgingly, Elias conceded that it would be something to be bound in such a friendship, to give and receive such steadfast devotion.

It would be something indeed.

He’d reached the bottom of both his cup and his musings when Hutch opened the door. Glancing around the tap room, he spied Elias and lifted his hand in greeting. After a brief word with Moses, the tapster, he carried two more cups of ale over to Elias’s customary table in the back corner of the room.

Elias pushed a seat out for Hutch with the toe of his boot. “Took you long enough.”

“I was—”

“No, ain’t interested,” Elias said. “Keep it to yourself, if you please.”

Flushing, Hutch set down both cups of ale and took a seat. “Probably for the best.”

Elias had no doubt of that.

“Nate says you’re here on business,” said Hutch, changing the subject.

“In a manner of speaking. We’ve talked before about your associate, Wessex…”

Hutch lifted his cup and swallowed a mouthful of ale. “And I told you he’s no associate of mine. I’ve bought a few trinkets from him now and then.”

“Aye, and not seen his face, I know.” He leaned forward, fixing Hutch with a steady look, trying to read his expression. “But you’ve spoken to him?”

“It would be difficult to negotiate a price otherwise.”

Elias said, “How would you describe his accent?”

Apparently taken by surprise, Hutch frowned. “His accent? I’ve not…” His frown deepened. “Educated, for certain.”

“A gentleman?”

Hutch nodded, looking uncomfortable.

“American?”

A longer pause this time, before Hutch made a so-so gesture with his hand.

Before Elias could ask what that meant, Tanner joined them at the table with his own drink. He drew up a chair between Hutch and Elias. “What are we talking about?” he asked.

“Wessex’s accent,” Elias said. “I’ve heard it said he sounds American.”

Hutch shrugged. “Perhaps.”

But Tanner said, “Not quite.”

They exchanged a speaking glance before Tanner said, “To me, he sounds like a man imitating an American. No doubt, to try and lay his crimes at the door of the enemy.”

“Or,” Hutch said dryly, “simply to mask his identity.”

After a moment, Tanner shrugged his agreement. “Whatever the reason, he’s only passably convincing. I’d say he was an Englishman. But perhaps a man who spent time in America—or knows someone who has.”