The Thompsons’ place grew busier every day, practically every minute. Though the gentlemen still arrived in pairs, they now came practically on each other’s heels. The comings and goings never stopped, not late at night, not early in the morning, not at midday.
“With Headley part of it all, it has to be gambling.” Hollis made the whispered observation for likely the twentieth time since he and Brogan had come to the Newport home. He wanted to believe ill-advised games of chance were all that was happening across the street, but his gut insisted there was more to it than that.
“’Tis only gentlemen going in and out the front, but I’d be surprised if they were the only ones taking part.” Brogan kept his voice quiet, as well. They never spoke above a whisper, not wanting to give their presence away.
“I’m picturing a seedy copper hell inside.” He handed Brogan the telescope, relinquishing his place at the window.
“Even after seeing your brother there yesterday?”
Hollis shook his head. “I’m not convinced that was my brother.” He hadn’t been the one on lookout when Brogan thought he’d seen Randolph.
“You’re also not convinced your lady love is a sticky-fingered thief.”
“I’ve told you I’ll not discuss that.” Until he could formulate a reasonable explanation, he refused to even think about Ana’s involvement in all this.
Brogan watched the street through the handheld telescope. “I’d say they’re near to doubling the in-and-out over there.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Hollis said. “If they’re playing high-stakes games that are ruining people, they’d have few takers for future games.”
“They have takers—and plenty.” Brogan lowered the telescope. Though his gaze remained on the street, his thoughts appeared to be on something else. “For a time, while Móirín and I were giving aid in Maida Hill, there was a house that always seemed busy. The local working people knew it to be one where unsavory things were happening. Everyone knew it, but the flow of people never slowed.”
Brogan and his sister frequented the poor neighborhoods, helping people, bringing food and supplies, teaching them skills to help them find work. They spent a fair amount of time in some very questionable areas of Town.
“Did you ever discover why people kept coming to that house?”
Brogan looked back at him. “Same thing that kept the little chimney sweep we rescued last year with his master for so long.”
“Violence.”
Brogan nodded. “And threats.”
Hollis crossed back to the window. Two more gentlemen were waiting at the door. “There’s a tangled web on the other side of that door; I know it.”
“And a four-fingered spider, I’d wager.”
Hollis rubbed the back of his neck. “Very Merry still doesn’t sleep well at night. And she won’t talk in any detail about him.”
“’Tis a deuced shame he escaped the police after that fire. I thought we’d cleared the streets of him.”
Hollis sighed. “So did I.”
Voices broke the silence in the next room. Wallace and Mr. Newport were generally quiet. Hollis listened more closely.
“Is that a woman’s voice?”
Brogan shrugged. “I didn’t see Ana arrive.”
“Who else could it be?”
The voices stopped. Then footsteps sounded. Growing closer. Too close.
Brogan and Hollis moved quickly and quietly in their stockinged feet and tucked themselves into the dark corner on the other side of the curio. They’d not be spotted should the door open.
Which it did.
Wallace stepped inside. He looked around the room, turning, until he spotted them. His gaze stopped on Hollis. He held up a penny between his thumb and forefinger, just long enough for Hollis to take note of it, then tossed it to him.
Hollis caught it. He checked the markings. “This is Parker’s.”
Wallace nodded.
“Is he here?”
“He ain’t. But he sent it.”
“With whom?”
“Miss Newport. And your niece.”
“Eloise?” Worry surged.
“Little one’s been cryin’. Miss Newport looks to be in a full blue funk.”
Eloise was here, and Ana was terrified? This bordered on disaster.
“Did you tell her we were in here?” Brogan asked.
Wallace shook his head. “Only said I’d get the penny to Mr. Hollis.”
“Something terrible must’ve happened. I can’t waste time pretending I’m being fetched.”
Brogan moved toward the window. “Think of something to tell her. Keep mum about me being in here.”
Something to tell her. He hadn’t the first idea what that was going to be. He quickly pulled on his shoes, then moved to Mr. Newport’s room.
Eloise caught sight of him first. “Uncle Hollis!” His name quavered on her lips as she ran to him.
He snatched her up and held her to him. Tears poured down her face. “My sweet girl.”
“We had to run away, Uncle Hollis.” She was shaking in his arms. “We had to run away.”
Ana reached his side. “How are you here so quickly? Wallace only just left to get word to you.”
“The fates are smiling on us today. I came for a visit, arriving just as Wallace was about to leave.”
“A welcome spot of luck,” Ana said.
“Indeed.” He rocked Eloise in his arms, though he continued speaking to Ana. “What happened?”
“Someone was trying to break into your brother’s house. Mr. Darby sounded afraid. The butler was stalwart but looked worried. Your brother is in danger. I’m certain of it.”
Confound it. Hollis set Eloise down. “Stay here with Miss Newport.” He turned to Wallace. “Stand sentinel at this house, man.”
“I’ll do for, guv.”
Hollis slapped him on the shoulder before he hurried from the room.
“Hollis.” Ana’s voice called after him.
He stopped on the top step of the staircase and turned back, fighting the growing need to run home, to save his brother from the trouble he’d gotten himself into.
“Eloise heard your brother talking about card sharps. And, yesterday, I saw him go into the Thompsons’ house with Mr. Lewiston. You’ve suspected he was gambling beyond what he ought. I suspect someone came today to collect on a debt.”
Thugs. Hollis had seen for himself what Four-Finger Mike’s roughs did to people. He’d best not go to Randolph’s house alone.
“Do you know if Cora and Addison got out of the house safely?”
“They were gone for the day, visiting her parents.”
Another welcome spot of luck. “Thank you for keeping Eloise safe.”
“I’ll thank you to keep yourself safe as well, Hollis Darby.”
He tossed her a smile. “I am not unfamiliar with the shadows, Ana.” He felt certain she wasn’t either.
She leaned toward him and pressed a swift kiss to his cheek before hurrying back into her father’s room.
Ana Newport was a growing mystery, and Hollis already had more of those than he could sort.
The door, three inches thick and solid oak, had been shattered off its hinges.
“Blimey.” Hollis stepped gingerly into the vestibule, Fletcher on his heels. “If whoever did this hasn’t killed my brother, I will.”
The tables in the entry were overturned. A vase lay on the tile floor in dozens of pieces, flowers and water strewn about. Every door in sight had been thrown open. A few were barely hanging on their hinges.
“Fly me,” Fletcher muttered. “What kind of mess did he land himself in?”
“A four-fingered one,” Hollis said.
They stopped in the entryway, listening. No discussion of strategy was needed; they both understood the proper method of snooping. The type of roughs who’d leave a house in this state weren’t trying to be stealthy. They’d not be this quiet.
“I’d wager they’ve left,” Fletcher said.
“I’m sick to death of people wagering,” Hollis said dryly.
They looked through each room, entering cautiously, leaving relieved. They found no thugs on the ground floor. None on the first floor, either. Or the second. Or third. All that remained was the servants’ quarters and belowstairs.
“If the butler was the one protecting your brother, he might well have hidden him away in the area of the house he knows best,” Fletcher said.
“And warned off the rest of the staff,” Hollis said. “The house is too quiet for anyone to still be here.”
The quiet of the house grew eerie as they took the stairs to its below-ground level. The silence in the servants’ corridor was unnerving. This part of a London house was never quiet.
Fletcher halted him with a hand on his arm. “Do you hear that?” he whispered.
He did. A thumping. Distant, quiet, repeating.
“Toward the back.” Fletcher motioned that way.
They moved slowly, keeping a careful eye on every shadowed corner and open door. Empty. All empty.
Yet the thumping continued.
“Something familiar in it,” Fletcher muttered. “I know I’ve heard that before.”
Hollis felt the same odd déjà vu.
As they approached the back of the house, the pounding grew louder. It sounded like wood against wood.
They reached the back door, the one leading out to the path cutting through the kitchen garden. The door was open. A stiff breeze from outside slammed it against the side of the house, over and over again. The pounding they’d heard.
Hollis dismissed the door as his gaze fell on something more ominous. The wall was charred, blackened with the scars of a fire hastily lit and hastily extinguished. Arson was Four-Finger Mike’s calling card.
Fletcher eyed the scorch marks. Hollis checked the back garden. It was just as empty as the house.
“A close call, here,” Fletcher said when Hollis stepped inside again. “It ain’t like Four-Finger to let a fire be put out. I’d guess he wasn’t tryin’ to burn the place down. This was a warning.”
“But where’s the one he was warning?”
Fletcher tucked his hands in his jacket pocket. “Not to be morbid, mate, but I kept a lookout for blood. Didn’t see a drop.”
Hollis emptied his lungs. “Maybe Randolph got away.”
“Parker’s a reliable sort,” Fletcher said. “The reason you added him to your network, no doubt. I’d guess he evacuated the staff, and that he spirited your no-good, lousy brother off somewhere safe.”
If only they knew where that “somewhere safe” was. “Let’s set the lads to sniffing out Randolph’s whereabouts. I’ll send word to Cora for her to stay at her parents’ house.”
Fletcher shook his head. “Convince her to go to Thurloe. I’ll ask Móirín Donnelly to head there as well. Between her and Elizabeth, it’ll be the safest spot for them all.”
“Assuming, of course, they don’t mind being featured in Mr. King’s upcoming installments,” Hollis said. “Though I’m enjoying ‘his’ latest work, I’m not certain I like watching my life play out on the page: a lonely gentleman sniffing out a thief and who’s lost his heart to a lady who keeps him firmly in the role of a friend.”
“Elizabeth writes what she sees in the world around her, like we all do.”
Hollis eyed him. “Did you enjoy it when your life played out on our mutual friend’s pages not long ago?”
“That tale ended well,” Fletcher said. “When all was said and done, I didn’t mind so much.”
“If Elizabeth can keep Ana safe while we search out my brother, I might forgive her.” He pushed out a breath as he eyed the scorch marks on the wall. “The roughs who came here might have seen Ana and might know who she is.”
The fire had been a warning, yes. But Hollis had a terrible suspicion the warning had not been for Randolph but for anyone who came to help him.
A warning . . . for him.