“That sounds like a good plan.”
“Except it won’t work, because I found out no one will take her onto their ship for any price. The authorities are stopping every commercial vessel and searching them. Apparently, Berta isn’t the only German refugee trying to sneak into the United States, and no one wants to get caught carrying one.”
“So the whole plan is off then?” Thornton asked, outraged.
“Not off, but it’s going to be a lot more expensive. The only way to get her out now is to buy a small cruiser that can sneak by the patrols. Then I’ll have to equip it and hire a crew. Finally, I’ll have to bribe a few officials to get the licenses and documents I’ll need.”
So, not impossible, but Vane was right, a lot more expensive. “How much will all that cost?”
“I think around fifteen thousand, which is how much those securities are worth, or so I thought. I know you probably don’t have that kind of money, so—”
“What makes you think I don’t have that kind of money?” Thornton asked, stung.
“Well, not many people do,” Vane said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to insult you, but it’s not often I need to go begging for that much money.”
“And yet you’re begging for it now.” Thornton took a moment to enjoy Vane’s helpless fury. “I told you I’ll give you the money, but for this much you’ll need to sign a promissory note. And of course you’ll repay me out of your share.”
“Why should it all come out of my share?” Vane demanded. “I thought we would split the expenses.”
“Because I have the money and you don’t. I’m taking all the risk here, so I should get the greater reward. Now do you want my help or not?”
Vane fumed for another minute or two, but finally, he said, “I do.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Elizabeth was eagerly watching out the front window Wednesday morning when she saw her visitors arrive in a motorcar she’d never seen before. Percy had obviously decided to fetch her last, since Anna and Rosemary were already in the vehicle when he escorted her out.
“I’m so glad you were able to join us, Elizabeth,” Rosemary said when Elizabeth had taken her place in the backseat with Anna. Rosemary, she noticed, had managed to claim the seat up front beside the earl. “I apologize for arranging this outing by telephone, but the earl only suggested it yesterday when he came to call, and there wasn’t time to send you a note and get a reply.”
“I don’t mind,” Elizabeth said, giving Anna a knowing glance. Rosemary had neatly let them know that Lord Percy had singled her out with a personal visit. “I wouldn’t have missed this. Percy, where on earth did you get this motor?”
“I borrowed it from a friend. One can’t take three ladies out in a cab, can one? I hope you will all be warm enough.”
“I’m sure we will be. These lap robes are quite impressive,” Anna said, running her hand over the fur rug she had spread over her lap.
They were indeed impressive. Elizabeth had a lot of questions, but she wasn’t going to ask any of them right now. “Where are we going?”
“Out to Brooklyn. Someone told me about a breeder with horses for sale there. I thought I would look them over, but I didn’t see any reason to go alone. We can have a lovely ride and find a place to stop for some refreshment on our way back.”
The lovely ride would be gloomy and pretty cold, even though Percy had found a motor with side windows, but Elizabeth wouldn’t point that out. “Did Percy meet your parents when he called on you, Rosemary?”
“He met my mother. He wanted to thank us in person for inviting him to our party, which was so thoughtful. Mother was quite taken with him.”
Elizabeth was sure she had been. “Gideon and I will be at the party, of course.”
“And I’ll be escorting Miss Vanderslice,” Percy said, glancing over his shoulder at her, “so we know she will be there.”
“Has Lord Percy called on you yet, Anna?” Rosemary asked a little too condescendingly.
“Of course he has,” Anna said sweetly. “You don’t think my mother would allow me to go driving with a complete stranger, do you?”
“I’m sure your mother was quite taken with him as well, wasn’t she?” Elizabeth asked.
“Oh yes. I’m afraid all Americans will be completely charmed by your accent, Lord Percy,” Anna said.
“Is that why everyone has been so friendly?” Percy asked with a laugh.
They chatted happily as they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and proceeded through the ever more rural countryside until they reached a gated entrance. A sign above it read, happy hills, even though Elizabeth couldn’t see any hills to speak of. The gates stood open, and Percy turned in. Large fenced fields stretched out on either side of the drive. The grass was winter brown now, but a few horses nibbled at the shriveled tufts. They looked up with mild interest as the motor roared past them, then resumed their snacking.
A lovely farmhouse sat at the end of the drive, but the shutters were closed up tightly, as if the inhabitants had left for the season.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Rosemary asked with a worried frown.
“I followed the directions my friend gave me,” Percy said, refusing to be discouraged. “He did say the owner was away, but the farm manager should be about somewhere.”
At that moment, a man emerged from a door on the side of an enormous barn nearby. He waved as he made his way across the lawn. Percy hopped out of the motor, and although he’d closed the door, they could easily hear the conversation.
“You must be that English fellow who telephoned,” the man said.
“Yes, Percy Hyde-Langdon, at your service.” Percy sketched the man a little bow, even though the fellow wore a ratty old coat over a pair of dirty overalls.
The man shook his head. “I never did see why English people needed more than one last name, but then there’s a lot of things in this life I don’t understand. You can call me Humphrey.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Humphrey.”
“Like I said on the telephone, Mr. Silvester isn’t here. He’s off riding around some foreign place where it’s warm, in his yacht. I’ve never seen it, but from what I hear, it’s pretty fancy. Anyway, I keep an eye on things here for him, and he did tell me to sell off any of the stock I could find a buyer for. He’s tired of raising horses and wants to retire, or so he says.”
“Is that all you have available?” Percy asked, looking out at the horses they had seen on the drive in.
“Oh no, I’ve got the best ones in the barn. Brought ’em inside so you could get a good look. You said you wanted some mares and a stallion, didn’t you?”
“That’s right. Is the barn suitable for my lady friends?”
Humphrey turned to the motor in surprise, as if he hadn’t noticed the women before. “Well, look at all the ladies. I didn’t know Englishmen kept harems,” he said with some amusement.
Percy laughed heartily at that. “I can only wish that one of these lovely ladies was my wife, but sadly, they are all just friends.” He opened the back door. “Won’t you join us? Mr. Humphrey says we can view some horses in the comfort of his barn.” As Anna and Elizabeth climbed out, Percy walked around and opened the front door for Rosemary.
Rosemary, Elizabeth noted, managed to stumble, and Percy had to catch her by the arm.
“Are you all right?” Percy asked in concern.
“I don’t know. The ground is so uneven here. Perhaps I should take your arm just to be sure,” she said, giving him her best helpless-female-in-distress look.
“Of course,” Percy said, offering it to her. They strolled slowly toward the barn with Humphrey, leaving Anna and Elizabeth to follow, unassisted on the uneven ground.
“I’m so very glad I’m not in love with Percy,” Anna remarked, linking arms with Elizabeth.
“You should
be,” Elizabeth replied.
* * *
—
Gideon flagged down a cab and gave the driver Logan’s address. Logan had gone to the bank after their meeting with Elizabeth yesterday to draw out the cash for Noelle’s—or the Spanish Prisoner’s—passage. This morning they were going to use the money Logan had collected to make the arrangements.
Elizabeth had been adamant that Gideon go with Logan to make sure he followed her instructions to the letter and didn’t allow sentiment to dissuade him. If this wasn’t done correctly, she had warned him, the whole plan would fail.
When the cab reached Logan’s house, Gideon asked the driver to wait and went to fetch Logan. A maid answered his knock, but before Gideon could tell her what he wanted, he heard angry shouting coming from the parlor.
“Is that Mr. Carstens?” Gideon asked the maid, whose pinched expression revealed her discomfort.
“He has a visitor,” she said, glancing anxiously in the direction of the noise.
Gideon pushed past her, ignoring her sputtered protest. The parlor doors were closed, but Gideon didn’t hesitate. He threw them open to find Sergeant Kellogg berating Logan. Both men froze in surprise at the intrusion.
“What’s going on here?” Gideon demanded.
Sergeant Kellogg’s face was scarlet, his hands clenched into fists, and Logan looked pretty angry himself.
“Sergeant Kellogg is intruding where he has no business,” Logan said stiffly.
“That is not true,” Kellogg said. “This is very much my business.” He still wore his uniform, Gideon noticed, although it was no longer as neat and clean as it had been, as if he’d been wearing it for many days without washing or ironing it.
“What is it you consider your business?” Gideon asked mildly, hoping to calm Kellogg.
Kellogg drew a deep breath, Gideon was pleased to note. “Helping the young lady. She sent the letters to me, after all. I feel it’s my duty to make sure she is treated fairly.”
“Do you have any reason to think Mr. Carstens will not treat her fairly?”
Kellogg opened his mouth to reply but no sound came out. He closed it with a snap and straightened his shoulders, tugging his uniform jacket down in what appeared to be a habitual gesture. “I would hope the captain would honor his obligations to her.”
“Hasn’t he told you that he intends to do just that?” Gideon asked.
“I certainly did,” Logan said, managing to sound both outraged and insulted. “But for some reason, Sergeant Kellogg isn’t satisfied.”
“What . . . what you’re going to do, that’s not what she wanted,” Kellogg said a little desperately.
“I thought she wanted Mr. Carstens to send her money for her passage to America,” Gideon said.
“She asked for a lot more than that,” Kellogg said, aggrieved.
“And I explained to you that it would take some time for Mr. Carstens to obtain that much money,” Gideon said. “But it appears she didn’t need that much just to escape from France after all. Her first request was much more reasonable.”
“But he’s not even going to send her that much,” Kellogg protested.
“I think the important thing is to get Miss Fortier safely to America,” Gideon said in his sensible lawyer’s voice. “Wouldn’t you agree, Sergeant Kellogg?”
“I . . . I guess you’re right,” Kellogg admitted reluctantly.
“And Mr. Carstens has told you he intends to do that. So why are you objecting?”
Kellogg’s lips tightened with suppressed fury. “She said she wanted me to handle the arrangements.”
Gideon glanced at Logan, who appeared to be as puzzled by Kellogg’s demand as Gideon was. “I can appreciate your sense of duty, but what difference can it make who handles the arrangements?” Gideon asked.
“I . . .” Kellogg’s uneasy glance darted from Gideon to Logan and back again. “I would like to make sure the young lady receives all the help she needs.”
Gideon could understand that, although most men would be more than happy to be relieved of any responsibility toward a woman with whom he had no real connection. “Your devotion to duty is commendable,” Gideon said, only a little sarcastically. “Perhaps if you go with us, you can witness what Mr. Carstens does. Logan, would you mind if Sergeant Kellogg accompanied us on our rounds today?”
Plainly, Logan wanted to send Kellogg to the devil, but he said, “If he insists.”
“All right, then. That should prove to you that everything has been done properly, Kellogg. I have a cab waiting outside,” Gideon said. “Shall we go?”
Kellogg looked far from pleased, but he didn’t object. The two men collected their coats and hats and followed Gideon out to the cab. Gideon noticed that Kellogg’s overcoat was also a little the worse for wear. He wondered what the man’s living arrangements were now that he had been discharged from the army.
The three men crowded into the backseat of the cab, with Kellogg in the middle, and Gideon gave the driver their destination, the port in Hoboken.
“Why are you going there?” Kellogg asked in apparent alarm.
“To purchase a ticket for Miss Fortier,” Logan said, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
“But she said to wire the money directly to her so she could buy it,” Kellogg said.
“We felt it would be more practical for Mr. Carstens to purchase her ticket here, so he’ll know when she is arriving and can meet her ship,” Gideon said as reasonably as he could under the circumstances. “There won’t be time for her to send a letter giving him that information.”
“But she’ll also have to get from . . . from where she is to the port,” Kellogg said, just as reasonably.
“And I’ll wire her money directly for a train ticket and any other expenses she might have,” Logan said.
“To the address she indicated?” Kellogg asked suspiciously.
“Where else would I send it?” Logan asked.
“I . . . I read her letter to you, Captain. I know her family disowned her and she’s gone to Paris.”
This time it was Logan’s face that was red with fury. “You would do well not to insult me, Sergeant. I have every intention of fulfilling my responsibilities.”
That seemed to placate Kellogg, and he settled back into his seat a bit, although he didn’t relax completely. When they reached the offices of the steamship company, the three of them went to the ticket windows. Gideon stood back while Logan chose the nearest available window to make his purchase, but Kellogg stuck right by Logan’s side as he conducted his transaction. Logan ended up buying a ticket on a ship that left Brest on Monday.
“Will there be any problem with her picking up the ticket at the port in France?” Logan asked. Elizabeth had been very clear about this part of it.
“Not if she has identification,” the clerk said.
“What if she doesn’t?” Kellogg said, earning a scowl from Logan and the clerk as well. “The situation in France is very unsettled since the war ended,” he explained. “She may have lost her papers.”
Gideon thought that unlikely, but he held his tongue.
“You can arrange a code word then,” the clerk said, making it clear this was irregular and probably meant extra work on his part.
Luckily, the wire services also required a code word be used when picking up money that had been transferred, and the letter writer had provided the one she would use.
“The code word is ‘mercy,’” Logan said.
The clerk raised his eyebrows but he dutifully wrote it down. “We will wire this to our offices over there and the ticket will be waiting for . . .” He glanced down at the form Logan had just filled out. “Miss Fortier.”
Kellogg didn’t seem happy about any of this, but since it wasn’t really any of his business, Gideon saw no reason to be concerned.
; “Where are we going now?” Kellogg asked.
“We are going to the nearest Western Union Office,” Logan said. “I suppose you’ll want to make sure we actually do it, too.”
“I’d like to go along, if you don’t mind,” Kellogg said. He really was an annoying character. He must have been a very good sergeant for Logan to put up with this.
Their cab was waiting and it took them back into the city and the nearest telegraph office. Once again, Logan made the arrangements, with Kellogg looking over his shoulder the whole time. Kellogg seemed pleased when he saw that Logan was wiring Noelle an additional one hundred dollars. It was far more than she’d need for train fare to the coast, but it showed a generosity that did him credit, even though they were almost positive the person to whom he was sending this money was not Noelle. Logan also sent Noelle a cable at the Paris address she’d given in the most recent letter, telling her in as few words as possible to pick up the ticket and the money he’d wired. The cable was hideously expensive, but necessary if Noelle was to know what to do. A letter would take too long to reach her.
When they were finished, Logan turned to Kellogg. “I hope you are satisfied with the arrangements, Sergeant.”
“Very much so, Captain.” But Kellogg didn’t look satisfied. He looked oddly worried.
Why should he be worried? Logan had done what the letter writer had asked.
But no, now that Gideon thought about it, he hadn’t done exactly what she’d asked. As Kellogg had reminded them, she had wanted far more money and she’d wanted Kellogg to handle everything. But what would he have done differently from what they had done? Gideon wanted to ask, but if this were a swindle, as they suspected, Kellogg wouldn’t dare tell him anything at all. They’d just have to wait to see what developed. At least if it were a swindle, Logan had only been cheated out of two hundred dollars.
City of Schemes Page 12
