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“You believed him?”
“I figured if it was a con, it was a new one. And then the more he talked, the more interested I was. So I made arrangements to pay me outstanding debts and came to the train station a free man.” Mostly.
Galloway toyed with his brandy glass. Cal couldn’t help but stare at the last few sips of brandy sloshing about in the bottom. Would Galloway drink them? How did he manage to treat the brandy so cavalierly? “What did he say to you?”
Cal looked away from the brandy. “He said the government operated a place in the remote north of England. I had the sorts of skills the Home Office needed, and if I wanted to use them for something more noble than swindling the sons of dukes out of a few pounds, I should go to the station.” That was not all he’d said. He’d promised Cal he’d be paid if he stayed past the first five days and extra if he gave the agents a few tips one learned in the rookeries—picking pockets and the like. Cal had it all in writing.
“So you’re reformed, are you?”
“Well now, I prefer to say I was looking for a change, and this was the ideal opportunity.”
“I’ll drink to that.” And Galloway downed the rest of his brandy. Cal’s throat felt very, very dry. He sipped his tea, which seemed to have lost its flavor.
“And now I have a question, if you don’t mind.”
Galloway nodded.
“What do you know about Miss Murray, our Keeper of the Clipboard?”
Galloway shook his head slightly. “Not much. She greeted us at the station and gave us our tickets. I supposed she was sent to escort us.”
The door between cars opened again as Mr. Chadha returned.
“She’s not an agent.”
“Seems unlikely they’d send an agent for a task like that, but I couldn’t say. She’s pretty enough.”
Cal looked up to see Galloway watching him. Cal gave him an easy smile. “I might have noticed. Might be that I wouldn’t mind spending a few minutes alone with her, testing if she kisses as well as she marshals the lot of us into line.”
Galloway opened his mouth, but the voice he heard out wasn’t his.
“That, Mr. Kelly, will never happen.”
Cal spun around, and just his luck, Miss Bridget Murray had sidled in behind Chadha, her color as high as her temper.
“I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last man on earth.”
They’d see about that, so they would, Cal thought as she turned on her heel and marched back out.
