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Chapter Twelve
“Well, it seems as if the girl was right. Your shaving kit contained a very concentrated amount of nicotine. It’s quite fatal in large quantities, as you know,” Wellington said, as he thrust a report at Bertram.
He frowned, reading the first few lines. “She said she didn’t recognize him. That he was dressed in dark clothes, was hooded and cloaked, and had nothing distinctive about him. A man—she assumed from his dress and physique—of average height, and extreme stealth. He made no sound as he came in and left. Were it not for the rustling as he opened my shaving bag, she would not have heard him.”
“Very likely a trained killer who slipped in and out of the camp without notice,” Wellington agreed.
Bertram sighed heavily, “Or someone in camp who has betrayed us.”
Wellington opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again.
Bertram raised an eyebrow. “You have something to say?”
Wellington sighed looking resigned. “Have you thought that the girl might have planted the poison herself? After all, nobody saw this alleged assassin but her. What better way to make you trust her, than have her accusation come true?”
Bertram narrowed his eyes at his Commander. “She would not do that.”
Wellington’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure? Did she not lie her way into your household and steal your letters?”
Bertram sighed, turning away. How to explain to Wellington that they had moved past all that. That he trusted her and he knew she had his best interests at heart?
“I am fairly sure it did not happen like that. You must trust my judgement on this.”
Wellington blinked at him a few times before nodding. “Very well. Since his attempt did not succeed, we must be ready for a subsequent attack.”
“What about Miss Strange? What is to be done with her?”
“What do you want to do?”
“Perhaps I can send her to my estate. We cannot just let her go but I do not feel comfortable detaining her. Now that she is better, she can remain at my seat and until the operation with the Third Man is done. We know she has some information on that. It is the best way to keep it secret.”
“Speaking of which, has Mr. Bull communicated with you?”
Bertram nodded. “As a matter of fact, he has.” He reached across the table for his satchel and opened it, extracting a paper filled with symbols and hieroglyphs. He passed it to Wellington. “I have sent for the code breaker.”
Wellington smiled with satisfaction. “This is good. Everything is proceeding as planned.”
“Yes,” Bertram nodded, “if you will excuse me, I need to check on Miss Strange and then make arrangements for her transportation.”
Wellington looked up. “I can excuse you for a few days if you wish to take her yourself. I know you must want to check on your son.”
“Thank you, that’s kind of you.”
Wellington’s mouth turned down. “Not kind. I can’t have you distracted. If it will give you peace of mind to look in on him, I cannot begrudge you that.”
Bertram’s bowed respectfully. “I appreciate it nevertheless.”
“It will be some time before we are ready for the next phase and your men are not involved in the current skirmishes. So you may go today. I will expect you back in a week.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Bertram bowed again before turning to leave.
* * *
Letty was feeling a lot better and that much more alert. She was also tense, waiting for someone to come and clap her in chains. She sat on the bed, a book in her lap, although she was not able to focus enough to read it. Every time she heard footsteps passing by, she stiffened, wondering if they were the ones that would take her off to interrogation.
Someone cleared their throat outside the tent flap. “May I enter?”
She giggled, half from being startled, half in relief. “It’syourtent.”
