Caleb took his foot and pushed out a chair. “Have a seat, then.”
With a glance at Matthews, Miss Delacourt said, “Alone, if you don’t mind.”
Matthews shoved back his chair and rose. “That is my cue to leave. Good day.”
Miss Delacourt watched Matthews’ retreating figure for a moment before turning her gaze back towards Caleb. “I need your help.”
His brow lifted. That was the last thing he expected to hear from Miss Delacourt. “What is it that you need my help on?”
“I understand that you have intercepted a French code, and I am in need of it.”
With a nod, he asked, “What you have heard is true, but why do you need it?”
“Is the reason important?”
“It is to me,” Caleb replied.
Miss Delacourt let out a frustrated sigh as she reached into the folds of her gown, retrieving a piece of paper. “I think I have discovered how someone is communicating with the French spies.”
Now Miss Delacourt had his attention. “How?”
Miss Delacourt lowered herself down onto the chair and extended him the piece of paper. “Someone is placing ads in the newssheets and they don’t make any sense. They are just a bunch of random words and letters.”
“Why do you assume this is related to the French spies?”
“Because the first ad was placed the day after Lord Drycott was declared dead by the newssheets,” Miss Delacourt explained.
Caleb looked at the ad and saw that it was a muddled mess. But that didn’t prove it was related to the French spies.
“Furthermore,” Miss Delacourt continued, “the person always pays for the ad in person and is very specific about what is to be written.”
“How do you know that?”
Miss Delacourt pressed her lips together. “Surely you didn’t think I wouldn’t do due diligence when it came to discovering who posted the ad.”
“Did you get a name?”
“The person was not forthcoming about that particular information so I had to get creative.”
Caleb gave her a knowing look. “You mean break into their offices and look at their files?”
“Perhaps, but how I discovered the information is not as important as the fact that Ididdiscover the information.”
“What is the man’s name?”
“Hugh Crowe,” Miss Delacourt replied. “Does that name mean anything to you?”
Caleb shook his head. “It does not,” he replied. “That still doesn’t prove that these ads are coded messages to the French spies.”
“That is why I need the code so I can decipher it,” Miss Delacourt said.
“Unfortunately, I gave the code to Kendrick and he turned it over to the agents that handle linguistics,” Caleb remarked.
Annoyance once again etched itself onto Miss Delacourt’s features. “Why didn’t you just tell me that to begin with? It would have saved us a considerable amount of time.”
“It would have, but I would have missed a chance to converse with a beautiful young woman,” Caleb said, a smirk playing on his lips.
“You are useless to me, then.”
