The Ink Master's Silence

by C. J. Archer

  "Or was my first assumption correct?" Lord Coyle's moustache lifted with his curious smile. "I am quite a good judge of character. You two act like a young couple in love. Miss Steele's blush would confirm it."

  I dipped my head.

  "Do you have a point, Coyle?" Matt growled.

  "I have an offer to make you, one that could see you freed from your obligations to your cousin."

  I sucked in a breath. "Go on. Tell us, sir, I beg you."

  Matt put up a finger. "What do you mean by offer?" he asked carefully.

  Lord Coyle puffed on his pipe then removed it from his mouth. "Patience Glass was engaged to Lord Cox, but something made him withdraw the offer suddenly. Am I right?"

  Neither Matt nor I confirmed or denied his statement. Lord Coyle went on regardless.

  "What if I told you I have a piece of information you can use to convince Cox to change his mind and take your cousin off your hands, Glass?"

  Chapter 7

  My heart thudded. This was what we needed, what we'd been hoping for, desperately searching for. Despite Matt's digging, he'd come up with nothing with which to blackmail Lord Cox. Clearly he wasn't as devious or as well connected as Lord Coyle.

  "Tell us," I urged. "What do you know about him?" I felt a little sick for asking. There would be no turning back from this, yet I couldn't help myself. I wanted to know. I was desperate to know.

  Lord Coyle blew out a puff of smoke. It mushroomed above the pipe, obscuring the lower half of his face, leaving only his eyes. The beady orbs shone.

  "Forgive me, Miss Steele, but the information I have is not something a gentleman willingly passes on, particularly when the object of the information is another gentleman, and a well-respected one at that."

  "Tell us!"

  Matt rested a hand on my shoulder. "You want something in exchange," he said flatly.

  Coyle pointed his pipe at Matt. "I knew you'd understand, Glass. Yes, I want something in return. Something from Miss Steele."

  I should have expected it. Matt had, but I'd stupidly believed Lord Coyle wanted to help us. "What do you want from me?"

  "Let's leave that open, for now. The favor shall be called in at a later date of my choosing."

  "No," Matt said. "Let's leave, India."

  I rose slowly, my gaze lowered. I couldn't look Matt in eye. If I did, he might see my uncertainty.

  "My offer will remain open," Lord Coyle said. "Good day to you both."

  Matt and I didn't speak on the way to University College. For my part, I didn't want him seeing that I wished Lord Coyle had told us what he knew about Lord Cox. I couldn't gauge if Matt remained quiet for the same reason. His face remained dark and distant as he stared out the window at the dismal view.

  The campus seemed empty of students thanks to the drizzle, and only a handful of staff walked swiftly between the shelter of the buildings. The slate gray clouds shrouded the imposing structures and seemed to suit my somber mood. I couldn't shake Lord Coyle's offer from my mind, no matter how much I tried to focus on the task at hand.

  Professor Nash was in residence. As with our last visit, he apologized for the sparse and slightly disheveled state of his room before inviting us in.

  "Do you have questions about magic, Miss Steele?" At my blank look, he added, "After reading the book I gave you."

  "I haven't read it yet. We're here for another reason."

  Matt got straight to the point. "You visited the office of The Weekly Gazette on the day the editor was shot. You asked to speak with Oscar Barratt and were informed that he would be back later that night."

  "What of it?"

  "If Barratt was the target, as the threatening letters suggest," Matt forged on, "then that makes you a suspect."

  Nash's throat worked with his swallows. "Are you accusing me of killing that man? Simply because I asked after someone else?"

  "It's not an unreasonable connection to make."

  "It is!" His voice pitched high. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You're leaping to wild conclusions, Mr. Glass. Yes, I was there, and I asked to see Mr. Barratt, only to be told he wasn't in but would be working later that night. Perhaps you think that makes me guilty, but I beg to differ. I have nothing against Mr. Barratt and his articles. While I do think he should be cautious and not name names, I actually was going to encourage him to continue writing. I didn't want to admit to it earlier. I was afraid you'd think me selfish, since my reasons are entirely that. I was going to offer him my expertise to flesh out the history of magic for his articles."

  "That might endanger you," I said.

  "I'd ask him to give me a false name or simply call me an anonymous source. If it looked as if the academic community was interested in the topic, and there turned out to be no danger, then I'd ask him to reveal my name. I could get more work out of it, Miss Steele. I could be courted by the dean of history in this very establishment. Oxford or Cambridge might come calling. You cannot deny me the chance of a better living."

  "We're not," Matt said. "But understand our point of view. Your enquiry, coming on the day of Baggley's death, is suspicious. You are the only person who knew Barratt would be working late in the office."

  "I am not! There was another man in the reception room at the Gazette. I assumed he was waiting for someone, but he left when I did. He heard the entire exchange between myself and the office boy."

  "What did the man look like?"

  "About my age, slender with gray hair and a high forehead."

  It sounded like Melville Hendry, the paper magician.

  "There was another odd thing," Nash said. "I think the lad I spoke to was wrong about Barratt not being in the office at the time. I've never met him, but I saw two men arguing through one of the windows as I left. I paid them no mind until one of them shouted the other's name. He called him Oscar. I should have returned then, but it's possible there are two Oscars working at The Gazette."

  "Did you see the man called Oscar?" Matt asked.

  "He was handsome, about your age, with a goatee beard."

  It sounded like Oscar Barratt. "And the other man?" I asked. "What did he look like?"

  "A lot like the first man. They must have been related."

  Oscar's brother, Isaac. It had to be.

  Oscar was in a meeting when we arrived at the Gazette's office so we left a message that we would return the next morning. Matt and I ate a late luncheon together and spent the remainder of the day in the library. It was the one room Miss Glass rarely entered, although if she really wanted to find us, she would come looking.

  Fortunately we were not disturbed and were able to draw up our long list of suspects in peace. We made notes beside each name, but the right side of the page still looked woefully empty by the time we finished.

  "What do you want to do now?" I asked, stabbing the pen into the holder.

  "Wait for Cyclops, Duke and Willie to report back," Matt said.

  "And in the meantime?"

  He drew in a measured breath and let it out slowly. "We'll discuss how to direct the dinner tomorrow night."

  "We should discuss Lord Coyle's offer."

  "We're not accepting it, India, and that's final."

  "But it's exactly what we've been looking for. I know it feels somewhat sordid to stoop to blackmail, but if the dinner doesn't work, we have no other plan to fall back on."

  "My reluctance has nothing to do with the nature of blackmail. I'm prepared to use anything in our arsenal to have Cox reconsider, but Coyle's price is too high."

  I pushed to my feet. "Too high? You put a value on us being together?"

  "When it comes to your safety, yes," he said, also rising.

  "He probably only wants me to infuse a clock with magic."

  "If that's all he wanted, he would have already asked. Make no mistake, he wants more."

  "How do you know?"

  He tilted his head to the side and arched his brows.

  "Good lord, Matt, you're attributing
villainy without evidence."

  He grasped my arms and gently shook me. "And you're attributing innocence without evidence. I've known powerful men in my time, and many of them have reached those heights because of their less than innocent machinations. I know you want to believe that everyone is good, and that's one reason why I love you."

  "So I am merely a naive girl."

  "That's not what I said."

  "You didn't have to." I tried to pull away, but he refused to let go. He drew me close and pressed his forehead to mine. "I don't want to argue with you, India. But I'm not giving in on this. I don't trust Coyle, not when it comes to your life or freedom."

  "That's the entire point," I said, pushing away. "You think my life and freedom are at stake, based on no evidence whatsoever. Am I not allowed an opinion?"

  "Of course you are. And you've voiced it. But my instincts are rarely wrong."

  "I see," I said crisply. "And mine usually are."

  "India," he purred.

  I moved to the table and picked up the book Professor Nash had given me. I'd left it there the day before. "I'm going to read in my room."

  "Let's not part like this," he said. "I won't be able to concentrate."

  I barked out a laugh.

  "I won't be able to sleep or eat either."

  I spun around to tell him how ridiculous he was being, only to find him standing a mere few inches away, a smile toying with his lips. I tried resisting those lips for several seconds, but I gave up and went to kiss him instead. I stopped short as guilt settled in.

  "You're too charming for your own good," I said. "Or perhaps you're too charming for my good."

  He brushed his fingers down my cheek. "I plan to be very good for you, India. Very good indeed." He nuzzled my throat, nipping the sensitive skin, making me giggle. Despite the guilt, despite my conviction not to kiss him, I found I couldn't push him away.

  The door behind me suddenly opened and Bristow made an odd gurgling sound. Matt and I sprang apart, but the butler had already seen us. So had the man standing behind him—Abercrombie.

  "Does your intended know you're already deceiving her?" Abercrombie asked in that supercilious voice of his. "Does her father?"

  Matt dismissed Bristow but did not invite Abercrombie into the library. "Is there a point to your visit?"

  Abercrombie's slick moustache twitched with his excitement at catching us in flagrante. "Order your people to stay away from me and my friends. Don't try to deny it, Glass. I saw your one-eyed thug outside my shop then again as I walked to an appointment. As if that isn't enough, I also saw one of your other friends watching the Stationers' Hall. What is it you want from us? What do you think we guild masters have done this time?"

  "I'm sure your friend, Mr. Sweeney, told you about the threatening letters written on paper infused with magic," Matt said.

  Abercrombie wrinkled his long, equine nose. "He did. They were sent to that irresponsible journalist at the Gazette. Perhaps if he'd heeded the warnings, the editor would still be alive."

  "Perhaps the two things aren't linked."

  Abercrombie made a scoffing sound in the back of his throat. "If you believe that, you're a fool."

  Matt straightened to his full height. "Do you know anything about the letters? Or about the shooter?"

  Abercrombie's lips pursed. "Of course not."

  "Won't Barratt's death help your cause? You want him stopped. What better way to do that than kill him?"

  "If I was prepared to kill someone to keep magic hidden, I would have shot Miss Steele a long time ago. The fact I haven't is testimony to my good character."

  Matt folded his arms and moved to fill the doorway so that I could no longer see Abercrombie properly, nor he me. I suspected Matt was giving the Watchmakers’ Guild master one of his scowls, going by the way Abercrombie loudly cleared his throat.

  A moment later, the front door opened and closed. Abercrombie was gone.

  "He does have a point," I said. "He could have killed me before now to suppress magic."

  "And incriminate himself as the main suspect?" Matt shook his head. He remained in the doorway, his body rigid as he stared in the direction Abercrombie had gone.

  I touched his shoulder and urged him to look at me. "Do you think he'll tell your uncle that he saw us kissing?"

  "He will." Matt suddenly scooped me into his arms. "So we might as well do it again."

  "Sorry he caught me spying," Cyclops said as we sat in the library after dinner.

  "It's the eye patch," Duke said. "It's too distinctive."

  "It ain't just the eye patch."

  Matt handed Cyclops a glass of brandy. "It's my fault. Abercrombie knows all of you. I shouldn't have sent you to watch him. Did you see where he went before he caught you?"

  "He was in his shop most of the day then went to visit Sweeney at the Stationers' Guild Hall." Cyclops nodded at Duke. "We stayed separate so as not to attract attention, but seems we did anyway."

  "Sweeney was at his factory most of the day," Duke said. "He went out for lunch at a chop house, where he met with three other fellows. All of 'em wore good suits. I think they were stationers. Their conversation was all about using new technology for printing, buying and selling equipment, and staff issues."

  "Did they discuss paper magic?" I asked.

  Duke shook his head. "Sweeney did tell 'em not to use that Hendry fellow for their personal stationery, but he told 'em it was because his work's gone inferior. He never mentioned magic."

  Willie grunted. "Why's he got to do that to a fellow? It ain't like Hendry's magic can ruin him. They ain't in the same trade."

  "Then where did Sweeney go?" Matt asked Duke.

  "To the Stationers' Hall. A short while later, I saw Abercrombie and Cyclops. Abercrombie spotted me on his way in. The porter came out and told me to get going. I moved around the corner and stayed there until I saw Abercrombie leave. Not long after, Sweeney went back to his factory and then went home about five. He lives in a real nice place out in Highgate with a big garden. According to one of the maids, he lives alone and spends most of his time at work nowadays."

  "Thanks, Duke." Matt turned to Willie. "And Hendry?"

  She shrugged. "He was inside all day, then went out and got himself a pie from a pie man's cart about five. He ate it as he walked back. I could just make out the sound of his machines operating out back until seven, but the shop remained closed."

  "Did he have many customers throughout the day?"

  "Only a dozen or so. Want me to follow them again tomorrow?"

  Matt shook his head. "Watch Sweeney. Cyclops, watch Hendry."

  "You want me on Abercrombie?" Duke asked. "He knows me."

  "He knows all of you. Forget Abercrombie, for now. I want you watching Lord Cox."

  Duke frowned. "You already tried to find something on him. He's as clean as a new dime."

  "It's worth trying again. Everyone has a past they'd prefer to keep hidden."

  "Not me," Duke said. "My life's an open book. Everyone can read it."

  "Nobody wants to," Willie said with a snicker.

  "Do you have reason to suspect Cox of something?" Cyclops asked Matt.

  Matt swirled his glass, watching the brandy coat the sides. I thought he wouldn't answer, but eventually he said, "Lord Coyle does."

  "What?" Willie asked.

  "He wouldn't say."

  "Why not?"

  "He wants something from India in return, only he wouldn't say what or when he'd call in the favor." Matt lifted his heavy gaze to me. "I don't like those terms and rejected the offer."

  "So you should," Willie said. "Ain't nobody would agree to that."

  "But if it gets you out of the arrangement with Patience, the price might be worth it," Duke said.

  Cyclops agreed. "What would he ask for in return, anyway? If it means you and India can be together—"

  Matt slammed the empty glass down on the table. "Don't you think I've thought of that? The decisio
n is made, and it's final. We're not accepting his help. But it does mean Cox has something in his past that he can be blackmailed over. I want to find out what it is."

  "Get your lawyer onto it," Willie said.

  "I've already written to him."

  "I doubt he can help," I said. "Whatever the secret is, very few people must know about it or you'd have uncovered it already. Coyle is well connected, Matt. He probably has spies in every club."

  Matt sat back and ran his finger slowly over his top lip. "That's precisely why I don't trust him." He wagged his finger at each of his friends. "Before you three tell India that I used spies in America, I'd like to point out that the information I gathered was used by the law to catch criminals. The information Coyle gathers is used to blackmail."

  Willie got up and poured herself another drink from the sideboard. "Honest men don't get what they want, Matt. You got to be devious too, or you'll never get rid of Patience. Look at Cyclops."

  Cyclops straightened. "What about me?"

  "You tried to warn your boss at the mine that the shaft supports were inferior, then he blamed you when the supports collapsed."

  "I can live with being honest," Cyclops said. "My conscience is clear."

  "We ain't talking about consciences. We're talking about winning and losing."

  "Ain't no such thing in life."

  "Don't be a dang fool. Course there is." Willie pointed her glass at Cyclops. "You can't walk free in Nevada, and maybe other states where your boss got the law on his side. If it weren't for Matt, you'd be in jail or dead."

  "You calling me a loser, Willie?" Cyclops shook his head. "Then you don't know nothing. I got good friends right here under this roof. And look at this place I get to live in. Ain't too many folk back home can say they ever been in a house this fine, let alone sleep in a soft bed in their own room. I'm lucky, Willie, and I count my blessings every day I'm alive. You should too, instead of wallowing in self-pity."

  "Self-pity?" Willie snorted. "Me? Ha! What have I got to feel sorry for?" She drank the contents of her glass, gulping loudly.

  Duke and Cyclops exchanged glances. "You been acting like a coyote with a thorn in its paw ever since—"