It took some ten minutes to travel the passage, though I don’t doubt it would have taken but a minute or two with light. I walked with one hand forward, and at last I came upon another piece of soft wood which, in accordance with Luke’s directions, I slid sideways, for this one was on a rail and moved quite easily. I then stepped forward and slid it back. I could not see how it fit, but I heard a satisfying click and had no doubt that Luke’s words were true; if you did not know it was a door, you should never suspect it.
My guides had informed me that I would be emerging within the pantry. And so, even more careful to avoid upsetting anything, I made my way to the door, opened it, and stepped out into a poorly lit kitchen.
It was a peculiarity of the house that the kitchen was in the cellar, but it fit the original owner’s needs. It hardly mattered to me. I oriented myself, and-after taking a moment to dust some of the more disturbing filth from my clothes-I began to climb the stairs.
Prior to entering the tunnel, I’d heard the watchman call the eleventh hour, so it was indeed reasonable to suppose that most of the house was asleep. But I could not even suspect what most of the house might consist of. How, after all, could Hammond and Edgar keep Mr. Franco against his will? On the other hand, I knew perfectly well it might not be physical bonds that held my friend. I, after all, had been made to do Cobb’s bidding without any palpable threat that a stranger might observe. That was, indeed, what I hoped to be the case. If it were but the two of them, I would be able to accomplish what I desired, and do so without bloodshed. If, on the other hand, there were armed men here, servants of the French Crown, things could get violent very quickly, and my chances of success were diminished. There was, however, only one way to learn. I climbed the stairs, and with a gentle twist of the doorknob I made my way into the main portion of the house.
IT WAS A LARGE HOUSE, and though Miss Glade had explained that the French agents could not risk servants, I remained skeptical that there would be no butler, no scullery maid, no laundry girl, no cook. Nevertheless, I found no one. Upon the first floor, I did as rapid a survey as I dared, measuring each step, avoiding every creak of the floor where I could. No one was awake, no one moved, and I heard nothing from abovestairs.
In what I would have earlier imagined to be Cobb’s study, I conducted as thorough a search as I could for the plans Miss Glade had described but saw no sign of the little octavo volume of the sort Pepper had been inclined to use. Indeed, it was clear that the space had been put in order, and I could find no signs that there were any private documents. Of course, having just entered the house through a private passage, I could not feel any certainty that there were no means of hiding the book that would escape my notice, but there was only so much I could accomplish in the dark of night with the necessity of quiet. Once I had Hammond in my power, I felt certain I could convince him to give me the book.
With the first floor effectively searched, I proceeded upward, wondering where it was that Edgar slept. A servant, after all, ought not to have his rooms abovestairs. I could, however, speculate on two reasons to explain the anomaly. First of all, because Edgar was the only servant, he would need to be close in case his masters-now master-had any needs in the night. The other possibility, and the one I was more inclined to accept, was that Edgar was no servant, at least not of the sort he pretended. He was, in other words, an agent of the French Crown like his masters. If that were the case, I should have to be most cautious of him.
Climbing the stairs took an inordinate amount of time, but I reached the top safely. I believed there to be three suites of rooms on the floor, and I moved to my left, following the wall carefully until I came to the first door. I slowly turned the knob, and despite my best efforts it squeaked-just a tiny gasp of metal upon metal, though to me it might as well have been cannon fire.
Prepared for the worst, I opened the door and peered inside. It was a front room-inhabited, as best as I could tell, for there were books, a half-empty cup of wine, papers upon the desk. I pushed on, therefore, and opened the next door, with slightly more luck than the first. It was quiet and I entered the room and approached the bed, inhabited by what appeared to me to be nothing more than a lump. I risked the candle, and the figure turned and moved but did not awaken, and I let out a breath of relief. It was Mr. Franco.
I closed the door that we might have more privacy. I regretted that I had to awaken my friend in a most inhospitable manner, but there was no help for it; I placed a hand over his mouth. Though I was prepared to shake him, no such effort was required. His eyes went wide.
I did not know how well he could see me, so I hastened to whisper words of comfort. “Do not cry out, Mr. Franco. It’s Weaver. Nod if you understand.”
He nodded, and so I removed my hand.
“I am sorry to have had to frighten you so,” I said, as quietly as I could manage. “I dared not risk another course.”
“I understand,” he said, as he sat up. “But what do you here?”
“Things are coming to a head,” I said. “After tomorrow these men will present no danger. Already they present no danger, but they do not know it. Yet if we are to defeat them, I must escape with something precious to them.”
“The plans for the engine,” Franco said.
“You know of it?”
He nodded. “They have made no secret of what they wanted. I feared it meant they intended to kill me when they had accomplished all they wished, so you can well imagine how pleased I am to see you.”
“Why have they kept you here?”
“Do you know who these men are?”
“French spies,” I said. “I have only just learned.”
“Yes. They wanted nothing more than to keep it a secret, but Hammond seemed to know the secret was in danger. He feared that once you discovered it, you would be able to involve the King’s Messengers or some other branch of the British government to offer me protection. Hammond is afraid of you, sir. He is afraid the matter is now out of his control, and he had nothing to keep you from destroying him, so he took me hostage.”
“But how does he keep you here?”
“He has threatened my daughter, sir. He claims to have agents in Salonica, capable of doing her harm. I dared not risk Gabriella, so instead I was forced to risk you. I pray you will forgive me.”
I put a hand upon his shoulder. “Do not be absurd. Your daughter is but one more innocent, and I could not have endured your jeopardizing her safety for my sake. You are here because of me-no, stay your words. I do not take responsibility for what these men have done, nor do I blame myself. You have been caught in my wake, and it has become my responsibility.”
“You are here, so you have acquitted your responsibility with much skill.”
“When we are all back in Duke’s Place and these scoundrels are dead or in the Tower, we may speak of that. As for now, I must get the plans for the engine and get you free. Have you any knowledge of who is in the house and where they rest?”
He nodded. “I believe that Mr. Hammond is sufficiently unimpressed with me that he does not take the necessary cautions in hiding things. I have heard him speak to his servant, Edgar, that he keeps the plans, written in an octavo volume, about his person at all times. That, I imagine, presents certain difficulties for you.”
“It does, but it also makes things easier as well. It means I do not have to waste my time in fruitless search. Now, besides ourselves, Hammond and Edgar, who is in the house?”
“No one. It is just the two of them.”
“Where do they sleep?”