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He was still nursing his injuries, which definitely involved cracked ribs, but he seemed to be on the mend. The only thing that truly weighed on him was the safety of the little dog he’d had with him.

He kept seeking assurance from her about the likelihood that it had been found and was safe.

“What’s the mood?” he whispered.

“Sounds like they pulled it off,” she said.

The hard sound of footfalls coming toward their door had Jerry scurrying back to his room, but Sarah only moved up to the top of the stairs, and she was leaning her shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, when Robby unlocked the door and looked up at her.

“You and the old man can get to work,” he said. “We need you to sort through the post and find the money.”

“I take it the plan worked,” Sarah said.

“Like a charm.” Robby grinned. “Jackman’s a little less grumpy, but he wants you to decipher more of the plans, so he can assess the most viable, and do a bit of planning.”

Sarah pretended to look mulish.

Jerry stepped out just at that very moment, she was sure on purpose, because he had to have been waiting by his door, listening to the conversation.

“You know the consequences,” Robby said, nodding toward Jerry. “He’s on his feet now. Pity if he were back in his sick bed, eh?”

“Fine,” she snapped. “Let me see what you have.”

Robby tried to pretend he wasn’t relieved, but she could see it in his eyes. He was afraid of Jackman, and keeping him happy after Pete’s indiscretions was probably a priority.

“Come downstairs, both of you, and you can look at the notes while the old geezer starts going through the post.” Robby moved back from the door, and Sarah walked down the stairs to join him.

If he ever came up to the rooms, she could push him down, if she lunged forward quickly enough, but Pete was usually with him, and now he was standing between two big sacks, holding the gun again.

Robby saw what was in his hand and took it off him. “You can’t be trusted with this, mate.”

“You used it this afternoon,” Pete said.

Sarah felt an icy hand grab at her gut. “You used a gun?” She loaded every bit of disdain she could into her voice.

Robby turned on her. “Like your father never did.”

“Well, he never did.” She lifted her hands and shrugged. “He thought it was crass.”

“Times have changed, darling. Your father was too old fashioned.” Pete smirked at her.

Coming from the man who’d murdered her father, Sarah simply stared at him, and eventually Pete looked away.

“I only shot the post van tire out.” Robby must have thought he needed to explain himself. “So they couldn’t come after us.”

Sarah wanted to give a snort of disgust. As if the post van driver would have tried to chase them through the streets of London with two of his men down.

It was good for her and Jerry, though. The bullet could probably be linked to her father and Stephen’s deaths. That was something.

“Here.” Robby handed her some of the notes.

It looked like about a quarter of the pile of papers they had taken from her father’s office.

“Where are the rest?” she asked.

“Jackman just gave me these,” Robby said.

“Right, he wants to keep some for himself, probably.” She didn’t know where that had come from, but she saw Robby didn’t like it at all. Which was a very good thing.