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It was nearly noon when Saxon returned to Tyreham. He was immediately shown to the marquis’s chambers.
“At last. Come in.” Dustin rose stiffly from the armchair in which he’d been sitting.
“Are you in pain, my lord?” Saxon inquired with a furrowed brow. “My uncle apprised me that your wounds were, thankfully, not as bad as they could have been.”
“I’m sore. I’m also losing my mind—with boredom and worry. Now tell me what you found.”
A competent nod. “I found your assailants without too much trouble, thanks to Stoddard’s directions. As we suspected, they made their way to the main road, where their horses awaited. To your credit, sir, it took them long minutes to mount, given the injuries you inflicted. I followed at a discreet pace for one and one-half hours, at which point they stopped.”
“Where?”
“At a run-down stable just outside London. It was dingy and dark, and once they’d entered the stable, I could make out only their forms. I could, however, hear their words. They entered, met with a third man who was clearly their superior, judging by his denigrating manner. The conversation was brief. They announced the job was done. He threw some pound notes at them, courtesy of their employer who, he said, was feeling generous but who would not pay another cent until they found Nick Aldridge. He then tossed them out. They limped to their mounts and bid a hasty retreat.” Saxon opened a thin portfolio. “At that point, I could have rushed right back to Tyreham, but it stood to reason that I should stay long enough to catch a glimpse of this third colleague.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. When he emerged into the light, alone and unaware that I was present and crouched behind his newly arrived bales of hay, I got a thorough look at him.” With a quick glance at his scribbled notes, Saxon elaborated. “He was approximately five feet ten, of average build, unkempt and unshaven, his hair a light, filthy brown. His eyes were pale blue, icy and penetrating. Most significant of all, he had a massive scar on his left forearm. Quite hideous looking, as your one-time jockey described.” Saxon lifted his head. “The lad who delivered his hay referred to him as ‘Coop.’“
“Coop.” Dustin jumped on the information. “At last we have a name. You said his stable is on the outskirts of London?”
“The East End, to be exact, sir.”
“Dammit.” Dustin began to pace, then winced and stopped. “I want this Coop watched. I want to find out who visits him, how long they stay, and what they talk about. What I want is his bloody employer. He’s the one with the influence necessary to back a scheme as costly as the one we’re contending with.”
“I quite agree. The sophistication of this operation, not to mention how long it’s been in effect, leads me to believe that this Coop’s employer is a man of some intelligence and power. In order to put an end to his conspiracy, we must put an end to him—in the figurative sense.”
“Right now our only link to this anonymous bastard is Coop.”
“True. So we must lie in wait for him to show up at Coop’s stable.”
“But who do I send to survey the stable?” Dustin wondered aloud. “Who do I trust? Moreover, who’ll do the job right besides you? Damn.” Dustin made another attempt to pace, this time disregarding the resulting pain. “I promised Trent you’d watch over Alexander. I also want you to keep an eye on Stoddard. I’m more worried than ever about him. With those lowlifes hunting so hard for Aldridge, they’re bound to learn Stoddard is his protégé. After which, the lad’s life will be endangered as well.” A grim pause. “Especially now.”
“Now, sir?”
“Yes. That’s what I meant when I said ‘Who do I trust?’” Dustin inhaled sharply, turning his head towards Saxon. “During those final seconds when Parrish was punching me, he warned me to stay out of things that don’t concern me, more specifically, to discontinue my late-night talks with my brother.”
“Did he?” Saxon’s brows rose. “Given my uncle’s vigilance at the manor’s entranceway, and the fine sentry duty performed by the guards at your front gates, Parrish’s comment makes me wonder if Coop might very well have a pair of ears stashed right here at Tyreham.”
“Exactly. And I need you to discover the owner of that pair of ears, as well as look out for Stoddard and Alexander.” Dustin scowled. “Which brings us back to the problem of scrutinizing Coop’s stable.”
“The problem’s been resolved, sir. Effecting its solution was the other cause for my delayed return to Tyreham.” Saxon cleared his throat. “After pondering the exact line of reasoning you just expounded upon—other than the final item, which I had yet to learn—I knew it was infeasible for me to be away from your estate. So I took the liberty of summoning a longtime associate, William Blaker, who began with me at Mr. Hackberth’s investigative agency, and who now has a small agency of his own. Blaker is both thorough and trustworthy. We often assist each other when a situation requires more than a single investigator. Still, as I had yet to obtain your approval, I refrained from divulging the details of the case. He knows only what he’s to do, that is, to observe Coop’s stable, keep track of all comings and goings, as well as every caller and the details of his visit. All other specifics—why this needs to be done and for whom— remain undisclosed. Blaker is already posted outside the stable, and intends to remain there until I advise him otherwise. I hope that meets with your satisfaction, my lord.”
“Saxon,” Dustin replied, a glint in his eye, “remind me to increase your wages. I don’t think I’m paying you enough.”
The investigator’s lips twitched. “I’ll remember to do that, sir.” His smile faded. “I’d like your permission to take the next logical step, one I’d intended to take when we returned from Newmarket, had this commotion not ensued.”
“What step?”
“I’d like to question Stoddard.”
Trenton’s knock was firm.
He waited the full minute Dustin had advised him, then knocked again, this time murmuring, “It’s Broddington. I need to speak with you.”
Another prolonged silence, not a rustle of movement from within the cottage.
“Stoddard, open the door,” Trenton added quietly. “Lord Tyreham sent me. I must talk to you.”
The lock turned, and the door inched open, violet eyes assessing that it was, indeed, Dustin’s brother.
