“Don’t forget to instruct the coachman to wait for us,” Anthony said. “We don’t want to find ourselves without transportation in this neighborhood. Not at this hour of the night.”
He jumped lightly down to the pavement with a careless ease that made Tobias sigh inwardly.
“We will be only a few minutes.” He tossed some coins to the man on the box. “Be so good as to wait for us.”
“Aye, sir.” The coachman made the coins disappear and reached for his bottle of gin. “I’ll be here when ye’ve finished yer business.”
Tobias walked toward the glowing yellow windows of the tavern. He sensed Anthony’s anticipation.
“Remember, say nothing at all until we are in Smiling Jack’s office,” he said. “Your manner of speaking will give you away instantly in this crowd. Is that quite clear?”
Anthony grimaced. “I assure you, your instructions in the fine art of disguise are as plain this time as they were the other ten times you gave them to me this evening.”
“If I tend to repeat myself, it is because I have good reason. The last thing we need tonight is a brawl with one of the patrons inside.”
“I promise you, I will not say a word.”
Tobias looked at the evil amber glow of the tavern windows and shook his head. “You will never believe it, but Lavinia actually asked me to bring her here to introduce her to Smiling Jack. She planned to disguise herself as a tavern wench.”
Anthony was startled. “Hell’s teeth. I assume you refused?”
Tobias smiled humorlessly. “One does not bring a lady to this sort of establishment. But I believe she was annoyed with me. Seemed to feel that I was trying to keep her from consulting with my contacts.”
“Which is precisely the case, is it not?”
“Yes. But it is for her own good. I cannot have her traipsing about in this part of town. She is too inclined toward reckless behavior as it is. I certainly do not want to encourage her in that direction.”
Tobias halted in front of the door of the Gryphon and gave his companion one last survey.
Anthony was garbed in the rough attire of a dockside laborer. In his heavy boots and ill-fitting trousers and coat, he looked as if he had just finished a long day unloading cargo from one of the ships moored at the nearby wharves. The shapeless hat pulled down low over his head concealed his fashionably cut hair and shielded his features from curious eyes.
Tobias had donned a similar costume for the evening’s outing. In addition to the laborer’s clothing, his slight limp added a distinct touch of authenticity to his appearance. The patrons of the Gryphon made their livings in a variety of dangerous occupations, some legal and some quite illegal. Wooden legs, missing fingers, eye patches, and scars were common among them.
“You’ll do.” Tobias pushed open the door of the smoky tavern. “Do not look anyone directly in the eye. Such an act may be taken as a rude insult.”
“I believe you mentioned that instruction several times also.” Anthony’s grin came and went in the dark shadow of his low hat. “Calm yourself. There is no need to be anxious. I will not fail you.”
“It is the possibility that I am failing you that makes me uneasy tonight,” Tobias said quietly.
Anthony turned his head sharply. “You must not think of it that way. This is my choice.”
“Enough,” Tobias said. “Let us get this business done.”
He opened the door and walked into the busy tavern, deliberately accentuating his limp. Anthony followed.
The roaring fire on the massive hearth infused the crowded room with a hellish light that suited the surroundings. The wooden benches and booths were crammed with men who had come here to drink, play cards, and flirt with the sturdily constructed serving maids.
Tobias made his way through the throng. He glanced back at one point to make sure that Anthony was close behind and saw that his companion was riveted by the sight of one of the bosomy maids. The woman’s large, swelling breasts threatened to spill out of her bodice as she bent over to serve three tankards of ale.
“They are all fashioned in a statuesque manner,” Tobias muttered. “Smiling Jack likes them that way.”
Anthony grinned.
They went down a hall and stopped at the door to Smiling Jack’s office. It stood ajar. Tobias rapped once and pushed it open.
“Good evening to you, Jack.”
Tobias did not bother to roughen his words. There was no need for pretense here in this room. He and Jack knew each other well from the old days when they had associated as spies. In his former profession as a smuggler, Jack had frequently been in a position to obtain information that had been quite useful to the Crown.
Jack had turned to a new career as a tavern owner in recent years, but his talent for collecting useful bits and pieces of gossip and rumors had not changed. He operated in this world very much as Crackenburne did in the world of a gentleman’s club.
Jack looked up from the act of pouring a brandy. He smiled broadly at the sight of Tobias and Anthony in the doorway. The expression twisted the long scar that ran from mouth to ear into a ghastly death’s head grin.
“Right on time, I see, March. As usual.” Jack squinted at Anthony with great interest. “And who’s this you’ve brought with you?”
“My brother-in-law, Anthony Sinclair.” Tobias shut the door. “You’ve heard me speak of him. I’m in the way of teaching him the business.”
“A pleasure to meet you at last, young Sinclair.” Jack chuckled. “Going into the same trade, are ye?”
“Yes, sir,” Anthony said proudly.
Jack nodded. “I like to see a business stay in the family. And you’ll not find a more skilled instructor in the art of investigatin’ than March here. Never knew anyone better at prying into other folks’ secrets. The fact that he hasn’t had his throat slit for his efforts in all these years is proof that he’s got a talent for the profession, if ye ask me.”
“Thank you for the excellent references,” Tobias muttered. “If you don’t mind I’d like to move on to a more pressing topic. I received your message this afternoon. What is it you have to tell me about Nightingale?”
“I will explain in due time. But first sit down and let me pour you both a brandy.”
Tobias took one of the unyielding straight-back chairs near the hearth. He reversed it, as was his custom, and sat astride. Anthony watched him and then quickly went through the same routine with the other chair. He folded his arms along the back, just as Tobias did, and took the glass of brandy Smiling Jack handed to him.
“I’ll admit that I’ve not had a lot of contact with Mr. Nightingale.” Smiling Jack went behind his broad desk and lowered his massive bulk into the oversize chair. “He trades in stolen antiquities, jewelry, and art. Only the finest and most valuable items. Boasts a very exclusive clientele, I’m told. An altogether higher class of business than my own humble line, I fear.”
“Nonsense.” Tobias sipped the brandy. “In my opinion there is not a great deal of difference between smuggling and tavern-keeping and the trade in stolen antiquities and art. And I’ll match you against Nightingale any day when it comes to exclusive clientele.”
Smiling Jack chuckled. “I appreciate your kind remarks, my friend. Now, then, as to Nightingale, he specializes in handling transactions between clients who prefer not to meet face-to-face for various reasons. He sets up auctions and sales for such persons.”
Anthony frowned. “How does an illegal auction work?”
Smiling Jack settled into his chair and assumed a lecturing air. “Nightingale acts as a go-between for his clients. He notifies interested parties of the item that is on the block and solicits bids. He guarantees anonymity to all concerned. Takes a plump commission and appears to manage a decent livelihood.”