Page 37

"Good day, madam." Willard Prenner was of middle age, with thinning hair and a simpering smile. He wiped his hands on his ink-stained apron and clasped them before him. "You wish to see me?"

"Yes." She waited until the man's eyes lifted from her bosom to her face again. "My name is Cressida Turner. I've come to discover what you might know of my father, Sergeant George Turner."

The smile vanished. "What do you mean?" Prenner asked, his eyebrows flying up in exaggerated confusion. "Mr. Turner is your father, you say? I’m sure you know far more about him than I do."

"He’s gone missing, and we found your name in his papers. I know he corresponded with you shortly before he disappeared, and I hoped you might have an idea where he could have gone." Cressida wasn’t at all sure of that. There had been no letters from Prenner in the desk, but Prenner had paid Papa fifteen pounds a fortnight before he left for London. There must have been some sort of message with it.

Prenner hesitated. Cressida had the feeling he was thinking furiously. His smile reappeared, colder and dismissive. "He's disappeared? Well, I know nothing of that. We concluded our business some time ago, he and I. I didn't expect to have further dealings with him."

"What was that business?" she pressed him. "Might he have gone to another printer on similar matters?”

Prenner gave a patronizing chuckle. "I don't think he would want you to trouble your pretty head about it."

Cressida wanted to curse in frustration. "You paid him over a hundred pounds in the last two years. There must be a good reason."

"Yes, and I don't have to tell you," he replied with a sniff. "It's my business, too, and you've no right to that."

“I’m just trying to locate my father," she began, but the printer heaved a noisy sigh.

"Try the Dove's Nest, if you're so keen to find him."

Behind her, Major Hayes muttered something in a disgusted tone, then stepped around her, striding right up to Mr. Prenner. The printer’s squinty eyes opened wide as the major towered over him.

“When did you last see George Turner?” he asked, all the more intimidating for speaking so quietly and evenly.

Prenner curled his lip even as he tipped his head back to see him. “I can’t recall.”

The major seized Prenner’s waistcoat, right under his chin, and yanked, pulling the smaller man up onto his toes. Prenner’s sallow face turned brick red. He twisted and cursed, but the major didn’t seem to notice.

“When did you last see him?” he repeated.

“Piss off,” spat Prenner. He opened his mouth as if to yell.

Major Hayes gave him a sharp shake, and Cressida heard the man’s teeth knock together. “Has Turner been here since April? You’re wearing out my patience.”

Prenner just glared at him. Cressida noticed his hand groping behind him, searching for something on the desk. A penknife glittered in the dusty sunlight. “Watch,” she managed to gasp, pointing. “He’s got a⁠—”

Major Hayes had seen. He drew back his free hand and drove it into Mr. Prenner’s stomach. The printer’s body jerked backward from the force of the blow. He looked like he would be sick. “Bloody thief,” he wheezed. “Have you. . . arrested. . . ”

“Then I might as well give real cause for complaint,” replied the major. He twisted his arm, driving his elbow into the underside of Prenner’s chin and knocking the man’s head back. Then he followed that blow with a neat punch from his left hand, and Mr. Prenner went limp. Major Hayes caught him under the arms and dragged his limp form over to the armchair, dropping him into it. He turned to Cressida, who had recoiled against the desk.

“Look for a ledger in there. Quickly,” he commanded when she stood gawking at him.

Cressida closed her gaping mouth and jumped to follow his directions. Her heart thumped and her hands shook as she scrabbled through the haphazard collection of books, bills, letters, and various other papers stuffed into the desk. Good heavens. The major had just knocked Mr. Prenner unconscious, with very little difficulty and even less hesitation. She stole a shocked glance at him from under her eyelashes.

He was rifling through the bookcase, frowning. The sunlight coming through the dusty window caught the hard planes of his face, illuminating a faint scar on his cheek she had never noticed before. Unlike her, he knew exactly what he was doing. What sort of man was he really? First his search of her father’s study, now this. Cressida was increasingly sure there was much more to the major than anyone knew, and she could only be glad that—for the moment—he was on her side.

He glanced up, meeting her gaze. His eyes were the color of the sky. “Something wrong?” he asked in the same muted voice as before.

“Ah. . . It’s stuck,” she whispered, pulling at a random drawer to cover her lapse. Must he catch her staring at him every single time she did it? She half expected the drawer to fly open and catch her in the lie, but it remained firmly closed. She tugged at the handle and rattled it, hoping it was just stuck and not locked.

“Shh.” With two soundless steps he crossed the room. Cressida quivered as he reached around her, almost embracing her. She would have moved away to let him at the desk, but he was right behind her, and the room was small and crowded. She was stuck in place, pressed between him, the desk, and the wall. She fixed her gaze on his hands, which seemed safest. He gave a firm pull at the drawer, then put his other hand at her waist.

“Let me,” he whispered, spinning both of them around, like a couple dancing. She looked up at him as they moved. He barely glanced at her, his attention wholly on the desk. Cressida retreated to the bookcase he had been searching, watching in amazement as he went down on his knee and reached into his coat pocket. He took out what looked like two long thick needles, and inserted them into the lock.

A snort from Mr. Prenner broke into her thoughts. She jumped, darting a worried glance at him, but he slept on. Major Hayes slid open the stuck drawer with a whisper of wood on wood, though it sounded loud in the quiet room. What would they do if the assistant came back?

A trickle of perspiration slid down between her breasts. She sucked in a wheezy breath. She was not born for sneaking around like this. She turned to the shelves and started poking through the books, with no idea of what she was looking for, when the major whispered her name.