Chapter 51

There was one more stop, the house in Spitalfields. But before we could return there we needed to allow a little time to pass, and there were a couple of errands to run. We stopped at Blathers’ rooms, and Blathers picked up his revolver and some additional bullets. “Here, Duff, puts this in your pocket.” He handed me his cudgel. “Ya doesn’t know when ya will be needin’ somethin’ like this, now does ya.” I pocketed the weapon, and we headed out for the Black Lion.

Blathers asked, “Is we being followed?”

“I think so. But we will know for sure when we get back to the Lion. Barbary is back there somewhere. He’ll spot anyone on our tail.”

****

Charles Dickens had left by the time Blathers and I returned to the inn. He had a past due deadline. He needed to finish his story and mollify his editor, or he’d gain a reputation for being tardy with his work. The rest of the team, however, was waiting patiently for reports from their field operators, Blathers and me, and Barbary.

Barkis, himself, joined our group. Forster assigned him two jobs. His first charge was providing beverages as required. “Who’s gonna pays fer these here drinks, is whats I want ta know.”

Clara answered, “Never you mind, love. You just keep track of what is consumed, and I’m quite certain my lady will see us good for it.” Barkis found a chalkboard and began tallying the drinks.

His second job was to provide needed tools. He obtained them from his own stock, the tools he used to maintain the inn and to repair his dray as needed. Right now the plan called for two crowbars. They sat on the table in the taproom.

We had just made ourselves comfortable when Barbary joined the group. Blathers asked, “Was we bein’ followed?”

“Aye, dere were one o’ dem ’oods on your tail. Me thinks it were one o’ da ones what jumped ya da other day. Dat Percy feller, ’e must ’as a small army, ’e must.”

Forster said, “Well, you are being followed. That’s good. Now let’s go over the next part of the plan and get going on it. Clara, do you have the item for Mr. Duff?”

“Here you are. I put it in this wrapping so no one would see it until you wanted them to.” I stuffed the parcel into the left-hand pocket of my coat. The cudgel was in the right-hand pocket.

“Now that the props are distributed,” Forster said, “everyone recite your part in this little drama for me.”