“Hush. I just spoke to Elowen.” Poppy related the specifics, and Carlos immediately grew serious.
“Very well. Then tonight we’ve got to put everything in motion. I’ll send word to the Customs men working on it. And Mr. Armitage.”
“Why alert him?” Poppy said. “Isn’t he corrupt?”
“I have no evidence of that, and meanwhile, I will behave as if he isn’t,” Carlos said.
Poppy hoped he would not regret the decision.
“And what should Elowen do? She’s very nervous.”
“She needs to signal that the shipment should happen as planned. That’s the only way.”
When Poppy returned to where Elowen was sitting, she said, “All right. It’s arranged. Everything hinges on you signaling just as expected. If all goes well, Customs and the local law will round up the smugglers tonight, and all of this will be done with!”
Elowen twisted the fabric of her skirt in her hands, leaving a wrinkled mess. “Oh, Poppy, I just can’t! I have a vision of Mr. Lowry catching me with a lantern in hand, and realizing what I’ve done. I’d be devastated to lose his good opinions of me.”
Poppy made the decision instantly. “Then tell me how to give the signal. I’ll go up to the attic window and send it.”
“Oh, my goodness,” the other lady gasped. “I could never ask you to do such a thing!”
“Why not? The act of signaling isn’t dangerous in itself. I’ll do it and be well away by the time the action starts. Besides, it may help muddy the waters should Dr. Drake choose to expose you. If you are seen among the other guests at ten, when you couldn’t possibly be signaling, then no one will believe Dr. Drake’s potential accusation, will they?”
Elowen put her hand to her heart. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Oh, Poppy, would you do that for me?”
“Of course. It’s only for tonight, and then this will all be behind us.”
* * * *
Just after Poppy gave him the news that Spargo was making a smuggling run that night, Carlos wrote a message in Spanish to Valentin.
V —
S on run tonight after ten. Make arrangement to pick up goods we spoke of: 60 for 550. Be there at my beach tonight. Lions hunting. Be ready.
—C
It was a very constrained message, meant to make it impossible for anyone who wasn’t Valentin to understand the details. Spargo was going on a smuggling run tonight anyway, so Valentin should push him to complete the sale of the arms he’d shown Valentin before. He had sixty pieces for a total price of five hundred and fifty pounds. And the sale was to happen tonight, on “his” beach, below Pencliff Towers. Spargo might be wary, but he wouldn’t turn down the money, and if all went well, the Agustina and the naval ship would pin the Seadragon in the cove below Pencliff Towers. The smugglers would all be rounded up, and Spargo would face criminal prosecution for all the murders he’d committed, but most especially Mateo Vega’s.
In his note, Carlos even managed to give the reason for the hasty transaction. The guns had to be moved because the “lions” (a code word for agents of the British crown, whether Customs, or the navy or the local law) were expected to make a raid soon. Valentin would pass that on. Any smuggler with half a brain would want to clear out their supply as fast as possible.
Carlos shook out his hands, feeling the strain in his nerves. He touched the cross at his neck again. “Almost there,” he promised Mateo. By the end of the night, it would all be over.
By dawn, the murderer would pay for his crime.
Chapter 22
Dear Poppy,
While I cannot know with precision what you have been up to, I am nevertheless certain that you are in deeper than any former teacher would like. Your vague hints about a matter of a romantic nature would send any mother into a tizzy (and while I am not a mother in fact, I certainly feel that way about all my Wildwood girls). Luckily, you were always a sensible and mature young lady, and I trust that you are fully in command of yourself. More than most women, you are aware that few things in life are certain, and that opportunities come when least expected. Seize the ones that call to your heart, my darling, but do not neglect to listen to your own good sense. If there is a gentleman involved, I must assume he is worthy of you (or else you would not consider him). And if he is worthy of you, he is rare.
Write to me as soon as you may, for I am filled with curiosity…along with a little concern.
Fondly,
Florence Bloomfield
Poppy tucked away the letter from her former headmistress, thinking that she’d have so much to tell her in the next letter that it might require a whole ream of paper to do it. With luck, all the parts of Poppy’s summer that would cause Mrs. Bloomfield a “little concern” would be done with by morning. She’d simply have to trust that she was fully in command of herself to carry out the last small task tonight.
