“What are you doing here?” Roswell asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Caleb asked, holding up his hands. “I am guarding the place.”
Fredrick moved to stand next to his brother and inquired, “Dare I ask why?”
Caleb grew solemn. “I was tasked with proving that Lord Drycott was smuggling, but then I realized that it was much bigger than that.”
“Kendrick informed us of this. Apparently, Lord Drycott has transported French spies onto English soil,” Roswell said.
“It is true, and now I am trying to track down where the spies are, all while keeping an eye on Lord Drycott’s operation,” Caleb remarked.
“So you got hired on as a guard?” Fredrick questioned.
Caleb’s expression turned wry. “It has been the perfect cover, but the pay leaves much to be desired. I have survived on stale bread and watered-down ale since I got the job.”
Roswell placed a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We are relieved to see you safe. I feared the worst since we haven’t heard from you in some time.”
“I’m sorry that I worried you, but I had to see this assignment through,” Caleb explained.
“I understand,” Roswell said, removing his hand. “To ease your parents’ worry, Anette told them that you traveled to Scotland to your hunting lodge.”
Caleb bobbed his head. “How is Anette?”
“She is beside herself with worry,” Roswell replied. “She even offered to help look for you in the rookeries.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the least,” Caleb said.
Fredrick spoke up. “We’re glad you are safe, but you should have notified Kendrick of your progress on the assignment. He was worried about you as well.”
Caleb gave him a disbelieving look. “Did Kendrick say that?” he asked. “I only ask because Kendrick isn’t worried about anyone.”
“In so many words,” Fredrick said. “Kendrick tasked us with finding you. Where are you even staying when you aren’t at work?”
“At a boarding house just up the street. It is safe, for the time being,” Caleb assured them. “But I am glad that Roswell is here. I could use his lock picking skills to break into Lord Drycott’s office.”
“Where is his office?” Roswell asked.
“Follow me,” Caleb replied as he spun on his heel. “Be careful of the rats. They outnumber the workers three to one.”
The echoing scurrying of rats filled the air as they ventured further down the lengthy corridor.
It wasn’t long before they arrived at a door and Caleb informed them, “This is Lord Drycott’s office.”
Roswell bent down, retrieving the pair of metal pins and skillfully inserting them into the lock. With a methodical twist, he cautiously rotated them until a satisfying click resonated. “We are in,” he proudly announced.
They all filed into the cramped, square office, which emanated a musty odor.
As Caleb proceeded to light a candle, he said, “It is much too dark in here. Besides, no one else is here so there is no need to move around in the dark.”
Fredrick made his way to the desk, noticing it was cluttered with stacks of papers and books. It was apparent that organization was not among Lord Drycott’s top priorities.
Roswell opened the top drawer of the desk and retrieved a bundle of additional papers. “It seems like we’ll be spending some time here, gentlemen.”
With a stack of papers in hand, Fredrick began to carefully peruse the documents, hoping to find any clues regarding the identities and whereabouts of the French spies.
After what felt like hours of diligent searching, Roswell’s voice broke the silence as he raised a piece of paper and announced, “I think I’ve got something.”
“Thank heavens,” Fredrick muttered as he dropped the papers in his hand.
