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In a swift motion, Miss Gaillard lifted her skirt and removed a pistol that was strapped to her leg. “But that doesn’t mean I am going to let you go. At least, not yet,” she remarked, pointing the pistol at her. “If you are a good girl, then I might let you live.”
Miss Gaillard walked over to a crate and produced some rope. “I must admit that I was pleased when I first saw you snooping around my wagon,” she said as she stepped closer to her. “I knew that it was only a matter of time before you stepped inside of the outbuilding.”
“Why was that?”
“Because we are a lot alike,” Miss Gaillard stated. “We both are curious creatures.”
Miss Gaillard put the pistol on the table. “I am going to tie your hands now,” she instructed. “If you try to reach for the pistol, I will kill you.” The way she spoke those words, Madalene knew she was in earnest.
“I understand,” Madalene replied, knowing she needed to bide her time until she could find a way to escape.
Miss Gaillard stepped closer and roughly tied her hands tightly together. Then, she reached down and ripped a large section of Madalene’s gown off.
“I can’t have you yelling for help, now can I?” Miss Gaillard asked before she shoved the fabric into Madalene’s mouth.
“Oh, there is one more thing,” Miss Gaillard said nonchalantly as she picked up the pistol. “Unfortunately, this part is going to hurt.”
Madalene watched as Miss Gaillard pulled her arm back, and she attempted to brace herself the best way she could. As the pistol slammed against the side of her head, everything went black.
Baldwin leaned backin his seat and took a sip of his drink before saying, “Marie is mad.”
“Why do you say that?” Corbyn asked as he sat across from him.
“She despises the British for what they did to her father,” Baldwin explained, “but I believe her hatred to be misdirected.”
Oliver nodded. “I would agree, but it isn’t as if she could go after Napoleon. He is exiled on the island of Elba.”
“Her plan could kill hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent people,” Baldwin said. “Lord Desmond’s rallies always attract a large crowd, and constables are on hand to ensure no violence breaks out.”
“Do you think the mass killing will be the start of the revolution that they are planning?” Oliver asked.
“It very well could be,” Baldwin replied, “especially since the people have been stirred up for less before.”
Corbyn leaned forward in his seat. “After you drive the wagon away from the Blue Boar, our agents will raid the pub, and we will capture Marie, Morton, and the other conspirators.”
“Where will you take the wagon?” Oliver asked.
“I am not sure,” Baldwin replied. “It isn’t safe to go very far with a bomb strapped to the back of it.”
“I would drive it to the docks and toss it into the river,” Corbyn advised. “The water will neutralize the gunpowder, rendering the bomb useless.”
“That is a good idea,” Baldwin acknowledged.
Corbyn smirked. “You sound surprised, but that is why I am the one in charge,” he remarked. “I will have agents standing by on the docks to assist you in removing the bomb very gently from the wagon.”
“I would appreciate that,” Baldwin said before taking a sip of his drink. “I can’t help but comment on how evident it is that Morton and Marie intend for me to be the scapegoat. Frankly, I don’t think they care whether I survive the explosion or not.”
Rising, Oliver responded, “You make an interesting point.” He walked over to the drink cart and poured himself another drink. “To them, you are expendable.”
Corbyn raised his glass. “I see that they sized you up correctly,” he joked.
Baldwin chuckled.
“If we knew where Marie was storing the bomb, then we could seize it tonight,” Oliver said, bringing the glass up to his lips. “Do you have any idea where she is hiding out?”
“The only hint that she gave was that the gunpowder was in a secure place,” Baldwin replied.
“That could be anywhere,” Oliver mumbled.
