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“They didn’t?”
Morton shook his head. “Carbon was the one who made the bomb, and he was killed for his crime.”
“But that was only after he confessed the names of his fellow conspirators.”
“Not all of them,” Morton said in a low voice. “He protected his fifteen-year-old daughter, who helped him make the bomb.”
Baldwin gave him a skeptical look. “Are you truly insinuating that a girl could assist in making a bomb that killed a dozen people and wounded nearly forty others?”
“I am.”
“Then you are mad.”
Morton put his hands up. “Hear me out,” he said. “Carbon’s daughter, Marie, has come to England to help us execute our plan.”
“Why would she do that?” he asked.
“The royalist group that Carbon belonged to was connected to Chouan leader Georges Cadoudal, who was in England’s pocket,” Morton shared. “Cadoudal had assured Carbon and his fellow conspirators that England was supportive of the assassination attempt and would help them escape France after they executed their plan. However, when the plan failed, the English turned their backs on the conspirators, leaving them to their fates.”
“How awful,” Baldwin murmured.
“Now Marie wants revenge, and I want a revolution,” Morton said, leaning slowly back in his chair. “It is a perfect partnership.”
“How do you intend to blow…” Baldwin’s voice trailed off as he saw three men with red waistcoats passing by the window.
“Runners,” he uttered.
Morton looked at him curiously. “Pardon?”
“We need to leave now!” Baldwin proclaimed, shoving back his chair.
“Why?”
“I just saw three Runners outside the window,” he explained. “We need to leave through the back.”
Morton jumped up from his chair. “Follow me,” he ordered with a tremor in his voice.
Baldwin followed Morton towards the door in the back of the room. Just as he reached for the handle, the main door was thrown open and someone ordered, “Stay where you are!”
Ignoring the command, Morton threw the back door open and raced out into the alley with Baldwin close behind.
“Hey, you there!” a Runner shouted at the end of the alley. “Stop where you are!”
They both ran out of the alley and Morton turned left. Baldwin turned right. Unfortunately, the Runner decided to chase after him.
Baldwin dodged in and out of the men and women he passed on the narrow street. He kept running until he turned down an alley with a low brick wall. He effortlessly jumped over it, but the Runner hadn’t been able to do so with the same ease, giving him a slight advantage.
Removing his ragged jacket, Baldwin handed it to a man who was begging on the street, then kept running until he was sure the Runner wasn’t following him anymore.
The sun was starting to set as he headed towards his room on Draper Street. When he opened his door, he was surprised to see Morton standing there, his eyes sparking with fury.
“Morton,” Baldwin acknowledged as he closed the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Where have you been?” Morton shouted.
Baldwin huffed as he went and dropped down onto his mattress. “I have been racing through the rookeries to make sure I lost the Runner who was following me.”
“How do I know it wasn’t you that ratted me out to the Bow Street Runners?” Morton accused, crossing his arms over his chest.
