Roswell continued. “It is a manifest for one of Lord Drycott’s ships. It lists the contents of what was being shipped, the crew and notes two passengers.”
“Did they list the passengers’ names?” Caleb asked.
Roswell shook his head. “No, it just identifies them as passenger one and two. There is no other distinction.”
“So those two passengers could be anyone?” Fredrick questioned.
“It would appear so,” Roswell said.
Caleb leaned his shoulder against the wall, his brow furrowed. “I suspect that one of those passengers is a woman.”
“Why would you suspect such a thing?” Roswell inquired.
“I overheard a conversation that I wasn’t supposed to hear, and Lord Drycott kept referring to a woman,” Caleb shared. “I could be wrong, but we might want to consider the possibility.”
Roswell exchanged a worried glance with Fredrick before asking, “Did Lord Drycott recognize you?”
Caleb huffed. “I am dressed in tattered clothing and I haven’t bathed in weeks,” he replied. “Lord Drycott didn’teven acknowledge my presence when I stumbled upon their conversation.”
As Fredrick took a moment to study Caleb, he couldn’t help but notice the sorry state that the man was in. Caleb’s worn clothes barely clung to his tall frame, and his jacket appeared too short for his long arms. His face was smudged with a layer of dirt, and his disheveled hair only added to his worn appearance.
“We will consider all possibilities when it comes to the gender of the French spies,” Roswell acknowledged. “But, for now, we need to put everything back exactly how we found it so as not to alert Lord Drycott of our presence here.”
They went about carefully returning everything to its proper place. Once satisfied that they had left no trace of their presence, they extinguished the candle’s flame and silently retreated from the office.
Once Roswell locked the door behind them, he said, “If that manifest is to be believed, we only have two French spies that we must contend with.”
“That manifest may have been doctored,” Caleb mused.
“Precisely my worry,” Fredrick said. “And are we certain that we were even looking at the right manifest?”
Roswell shrugged. “It showed that a shipment of goods arrived nearly two weeks ago,” he said. “It would be a reasonable assumption that that was the ship that brought the spies with it.”
“I don’t work in assumptions,” Fredrick remarked.
They made their way through the factory and arrived back at the side entrance. Caleb went to open the door and said, “I’ll keep working on this front, and you see what you can find out on your end.”
“Remain vigilant,” Roswell urged.
Caleb nodded, his resolve unwavering. “Inform Anette that I am doing well, and I shall return when this assignment is over.”
Once Fredrick departed from the factory, he waited for Roswell and, together, they made their way towards their waiting coach.
“I am worried about Caleb,” Roswell confessed.
“As am I,” Fredrick said.
Roswell kept his gaze straight ahead, his demeanor revealing his deep concern. “Let’s resolve this case quickly so Caleb can return home,” he declared.
Fredrick could sense his brother’s determination and he had no qualms about doing so. With Caleb located, they could now focus on finding the two French spies. But that was much easier said than done.
Chapter Ten
Emilia had just concluded breakfast with Lily and couldn’t help but notice the curious glances exchanged among the footmen in the dining room. It might have been considered unusual to dine with one’s lady’s maid, but she didn’t care. In her own home, she would do whatever she so desired.
“Shall we adjourn to the drawing room?” Emilia suggested.
Lily leaned closer and spoke in a soft voice. “Do you think that is wise?”
