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Reggie’s eyes opened, then widened as he saw me watching him. He tried screaming through the gag tied around his mouth, as he struggled to free himself from the ropes around his wrists and feet. When that failed, he kicked at the coach door. As Miss Atwater scooted to the other side, I brought the heel of my boot down on his shins. “Do that again and you’ll regret it.”
He tried speaking through the gag. I dug my heel in harder. “Do not test my patience.” I leveled my sternest look on him. “A word of warning, cousin. You make a noise loud enough to be heard by anyone other than me, I’ll kick your teeth out. Do you understand?” I asked, enunciating each word clearly.
For the first time ever, I saw fright in Reggie’s eyes.
I hated resorting to violence, but Mr. Bell’s life depended on my cousin’s silence. Bell told us that if the man in the tavern suspected anything was amiss, if he suspected Isaac at all, he’d likely try to kill him.
I refused to have anyone’s death on my conscience, especially Mr. Bell’s. Not that I was worried the man couldn’t handle himself—after all, he’d single-handedly taken down both Reggie and his accomplices and recovered the stolen Grey Ghost in the process. What we hadn’t recovered was the stolen treasure, but Mr. Bell assured us that it was only a matter of time.
I looked out the window, saw Isaac Bell stepping out of the tavern, looking very much like the dandy he was trying to portray. A swarthy dark-haired man followed him out, and the pair walked in our direction.
When they reached the coach, Isaac rapped on the door, calling out, “Apparently, this man is under orders that he’s only to deal with Mr. Reginald Oren. They’re insisting on seeing him. Now.”
Miss Atwater and I exchanged glances. She lifted her hand as though holding a glass to her lips.
She was as brilliant as she was beautiful. I realized, though, that to allay suspicion, such news of Reginald’s intoxication would sound better coming from a woman. I leaned toward her, whispering that she should respond.
She hesitated but a second before leaning toward the window and pulling the curtain open just enough for the pair outside to see only her. “He’s . . . had a bit much to drink, but I’ll see if I can’t rouse him.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Bell said. He stepped back from the coach, giving a bland smile.
The other man looked in the window, trying to see, but she closed the curtain. “This better not be some trick,” he said.
“I assure you, it’s not,” Isaac said.
Using my father’s dagger, I leaned in close to Reggie, whispering a reminder about the loss of his teeth if he so much as uttered something I didn’t like. I pulled down his gag and dragged him up, hoping the man outside didn’t notice the odd rocking of the coach as I forced my cousin to the window, whispering, “Be careful.”
Miss Atwater pulled the curtain for him to look out.
“What?” Reggie barked.
The man shifted on his feet as he peered into the window. “Mr. Keene said you were the only one we were to talk to. No one else.”
When Reggie said nothing, I pressed the point of my father’s dagger into his spine. “So here I am,” Reggie said. “Now, make the sale.”
“You’re sure?”
“You heard me. I’m here now. You want the forty-fifty? Tell Keene to bring the money.”
“This wasn’t how you said it—”
I pressed harder. Reggie’s shoulder jerked toward the window. “Tell Mr. Keene to bring the money to my uncle’s warehouse,” he said through gritted teeth. I poked him again. “And to hurry. Before I change my mind.”
The man narrowed his eyes as though not quite trusting what he was hearing. After a moment, he shrugged, looking at Isaac. “I’ll be off, then.”
After he left, I wanted to follow, but Isaac bade me wait. “Why?” I asked. “He’ll lead us right to this Mr. Keene.”
“Barclay Keene?” Miss Atwater said.
“And who would that be?” Bell asked.
“The man who owns the Barclay Keene Electric Motor Works,” she replied. “He’s married to the sister of the headmaster at the orphanage. I’ve heard tell the business is struggling financially.”
“Interesting,” Bell said. “Perhaps where some of that money embezzled from the orphanage is ending up?”
It made perfect sense to me. What I didn’t understand was, why weren’t we immediately going after Keene to make an arrest? And so I asked Mr. Bell.
“Because we only have the word of your cousin, an admitted thief and murderer. Not much good against that of a prominent businessman, wouldn’t you say? My feeling is, the more evidence against Keene, the better.”
