"Of course he did not. I always knew what kind of man you were." She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Do you think he will show tonight, Gabriel? There was no sign of him last night."
"By now he knows he must make his move either tonight or tomorrow night. The gossip we invented has made it clear that The Lady in the Tower will be going into the collection of a powerful collector the day after tomorrow. The three nights it spends in Lacey's Bookshop are the only nights when it will be vulnerable."
A small tapping sound came from the roof of the closed carriage. Gabriel stood up and raised the trapdoor. Anthony, heavily shrouded in a hackney driver's hat and caped cloak, sat huddled on the box. He was doing an excellent job of imitating a dozing coachman.
"Any sign of Baxter?" Gabriel asked softly.
"No, but I'm getting a bit concerned about Stin-ton. He should have been back from his little foray into the alley by now."
Gabriel searched the fog, looking for signs of the missing Stinton. He had dispatched the Runner earlier to check the alley behind the shop. "You're right. I think I'd better have a look. Keep an eye on Phoebe."
"Why don't you just chain her to the inside of the carriage, to be on the safe side?" Anthony suggested dryly. "I don't want the blame if she takes a sudden notion to see what's happening."
"I resent that," Phoebe said behind Gabriel. "I have agreed to follow instructions."
Gabriel swore softly. "You will both stay here while I check on Stinton."
Phoebe touched his arm as he opened the carriage door. "Be careful, my love."
"I will." He picked up her hand, kissed the delicate inside of her wrist, and then went out through the door.
As soon as he was on the street, he moved into the deep shadows of the nearest building. The fog was as useful to him as it would be to Baxter, he thought. He glided through a particularly thick patch of it as he crossed the empty street.
There was no sign of anyone else in the vicinity. The shops were dark and silent. A cat appeared briefly, flashed across Gabriel's path, and then vanished back into the mist.
Gabriel sensed the wrongness as soon as he reached the alley entrance. He stood quietly for a moment, letting his senses feel what he could not see. Then he reached into the pocket of his greatcoat and removed the pistol he had brought with him.
He went into the alley slowly, staying close to the wall. There was almost no light here at all and he did not want to go back to the carriage for a lantern. If Baxter was near, he would be warned by the light.
Gabriel took another step into the darkness and caught the toe of his boot on something that felt suspiciously soft. He looked down and saw a bundle of what appeared to be old clothes at his feet.
He had found Stinton.
Gabriel crouched beside the fallen man, feeling for the pulse that indicated life. He found it. Stinton was unconscious, not dead.
There were two possibilities. Either a footpad had come upon Stinton in the fog or Baxter had managed to slip unseen into the alley and was even now in the bookshop.
Gabriel moved silently across the cobblestones until he found the back entrance of the shop. The door stood ajar. He slipped inside the dark room, aware from his earlier visit that he was in the room where Lacey operated his printing press. There was just enough light seeping in from the windows to reveal the outline of the machine.
A deep, jangling sense of danger sliced through his senses an instant before he heard the scrape of a boot on the floor behind him.
Gabriel whirled around, but it was too late to avoid the figure that lunged at him out of the dark. He went down beneath the impact, rolling swiftly in an effort to shake loose his assailant. The pistol was knocked from his hand.
"You damned bloody bastard." Neil's upraised arm slashed downward toward Gabriel's throat. A gleam of light glanced off the knife in his hand.
Gabriel managed to block the blow. He wrenched himself out from under Neil and rose to a crouching position. He reached down into his boot for the knife he carried there.
"You won't stop me this time," Baxter snarled. "I'm going to cut your throat for you."
He leaped toward Gabriel, knife extended. Gabriel danced backward and found himself trapped against the heavy iron press. He slid to the side as Baxter lunged again.
"Think twice before you try that again, Baxter. I am not unarmed."
"I heard your pistol fall to the floor." Baxter's teeth flashed in the shadows like those of a shark in the depths of the sea. "You're empty-handed, Wylde. This time you're a dead man."
Neil launched himself forward again, the knife aimed at Gabriel's midsection. Gabriel swung his heavy greatcoat off his shoulders and directly into Neil's path. Neil roared with rage as he became tangled up in it.
Gabriel kicked out swiftly. His booted foot caught Neil on the thigh, throwing the other man off balance. Neil yelled again as he tripped and went down.
Gabriel stepped forward, bringing his boot down on Neil's outflung arm. "Drop the knife."
"No, goddamn you."
Gabriel leaned down and held the tip of his own knife to Neil's throat. "This is not Excalibur and I am not Arthur. I would just as soon finish this right now, and the hell with the rules of chivalry. Let go of the blade, Baxter."
Neil went still. "You won't use it, Wylde."
"You think not?"
Neil's fingers unclenched from the handle of the knife. He glared up at Gabriel. "Phoebe would never forgive you for slitting my throat, and you know it."
"Phoebe no longer thinks of you as her fair Lancelot. The illusion you created was shattered for all time when Phoebe and Alice met. Apparently my wife does not approve of the way you abandoned your mistress. Lancelot was supposed to rescue the ladies, not leave them in hell."
Baxter stared up at him. "You're mad. Why would Phoebe give a damn about a whore?"
The light of a lantern fell across the two men. "Why, indeed?" asked the woman who stepped through the doorway from the alley. She had a pistol in her gloved hand. "You certainly did not care about me, did you, Neil? You gave me nothing but lies. And I believed them all."
"Alice." The yellow light from the lantern revealed the shock on Neil's face. "Alice, for God's sake, make him drop the knife. Use the pistol. Hurry, woman."
"I'd sooner use it on you, Neil." Alice held the lantern higher. "Where's your precious book?"
"For God's sake, Alice, help me. I'll get the book if you'll just shoot Wylde."
"I have no interest in killing Wylde," Alice said calmly. "If I kill anyone, it will be you. Where is the book?"
"I don't know," Neil said quickly. "Wylde interfered before I found it."
Gabriel looked at Alice. "It's in that desk over there in the corner."
"Thank you," Alice said. She kept the pistol trained on the two men as she went over to the desk.
"The second drawer," Gabriel said.
Alice opened the drawer. "I see. You are most cooperative, Wylde. I appreciate that."
She backed toward the door through which she had entered. Her pistol never wavered. "I shall be leaving now."
"Alice, my dearest love, you must help me," Neil whispered thickly. "You were the only woman who ever really mattered to me. You know that."
"You should have taken me with you when you left England with Clarington's money," Alice said.
"How could I subject the woman I loved to the harsh conditions of a trip to the islands?" Neil said.
"Did you think I enjoyed the conditions of a brothel more? I am not precisely certain why this book is so important to you, but as you have been obsessed with finding it since you returned to London, I intend to find out."
"Help me and I'll show you why it's important," Neil pleaded.