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“Have you seen her, ma’am? She is better at it than I am, which is why I do not offer myself up as an opponent.”
“No,” I say. “I’m not boxing some boy for the amusement of a crowd, in order to win an offer that may be refused.”
“Oh, I doubt my writerly friend will refuse.”
“Then go to them and have them pay you to be the go-between. We will pay you as well.”
“No,” Elspeth says. “If you say the girl can fight, then I want to see her fight. Four shillings for each round you stay on your feet.”
“How many rounds are there?” Isla asks.
“Five. That’s a guinea in your pocket if you win, lass.”
“Then I will give you a guinea if you refuse,” Isla says.
Elspeth’s eyes narrow. “Six shillings per round.”
“Which I will match.”
I turn to Elspeth. “Can you bid a guinea a round, please? Not that I’ll accept, but if Mrs. Ballantyne is willing to match, it would be a nice bonus on my quarterly earnings.” I lift my hands as they both start to speak. “No, I’m not fighting.”
“Afraid you’ll lose, lass?” Elspeth says.
“If that’s supposed to egg me into it, you’ve picked the wrong tactic. I can fight, and I will if I need to defend myself, but I don’t do it for fun. I don’t do it for cash. I sure as heck don’t do it for an audience.”
“Heck?” Jack says.
“It’s an American word. The point is that I’m not fighting.”
“Then I guess I’m not taking your message to my writerly friend.”
I shrug. “Suit yourself. They were first on my list, but I have a meeting with Joseph McBride tomorrow morning, where I’ll make the same offer.”
McBride is another broadsheet writer, and I have no idea how to contacthim—or whether that’s his real name—but the look on Jack’s face tells me I pulled off the bluff.
“I would rather have dealt with you,” I say. “Also I’d rather have dealt with your friend, who seems more likely to make good use of my information and give me some in return. That’s why I came to you first, but obviously your friend doesn’t need the help. I only hope they won’t be too upset when they find out you turned down my offer, because they’regoingto find out.”
“You’ll make sure of it?” Jack says.
I shrug again. “Your friend seems the better reporter, and so I might want to deal with them on another case. I’ll find them another way.”
“One that cuts out my payment.”
“Can’t claim a messenger fee if you aren’t delivering a message.”
Jack only sighs. “I thought you were fun.”
“Fun and gullible are two very different words.” I turn to Isla. “Anything else we need?”
“No,” she says frostily, her gaze fixed on Jack. “I do believe we have quite wasted our time. That is why I suggested meeting with Mr. McBride directly, rather than trying to approach this nameless scribbler through an intermediary.”
“You were right. I was wrong. Won’t be the first time or the last.”
We start for the door, Simon falling in behind us.
“Wait,” Jack says, the word itself a deep sigh. “I’ll pass on the message for a crown.”
“Make it—” I begin, but Isla cuts me off.
