I did as he said, guiding my hands to his pocket while looking over my shoulder. I’d forgotten about the little skeleton key he’d used to unlock Dunleavy’s door. My fingers seemed to belong to someone else, but eventually I dug it out and passed it to him back to back. In almost no time at all, he was swinging the open bracelets around and freeing his other hand. Then he seized my wrist and began unlocking mine.
“I’d say we have about two minutes to get out of here,” he said in my ear.
In a moment my hands were free, but I wasn’t sure what good had been accomplished, since there was still a guard at the door and bars on the window. Barker put a finger to his lips and moved silently to the door. Then giving me a look that said “prepare yourself,” he opened the door, snaked a hand around the guard’s mouth, and delivered a kick to his calves, yanking him into the room. I ran to close the door while my employer delivered a blow to the constable’s neck, just under the helmet, with the edge of his hand. The officer was knocked cold.
Barker peered out into the corridor and motioned to me with two fingers. We were out of the room, moving down the hallway as casually as we could bear. In a moment, we stepped out the entrance door and melted away into the night.
We were walking along swiftly when I suddenly began to get rubber legged. I couldn’t help it. Because I had been incarcerated for eight months, my greatest fear is of imprisonment. I began gulping for air and feeling dizzy. Barker sat me down on the stoop of a shop front and pushed my head between my legs.
“A little too close for you in there, was it, lad?”
“Aye, sir,” I gasped.
In a few moments, I was feeling a little better. We’d been inside the lion’s mouth, and emerged safely again, but it had been close. My mind knew we were out, but my nerves were still coming to grips with the thought of being behind bars again.
“Feeling better now?” Cyrus Barker asked. He was being patient, but we were still rather close to the station. I jumped up from the stoop.
“Ready, sir,” I stated.
Alfred Dunleavy was at the O’Casey house, when we arrived shortly after twelve. Both he and Eamon looked very worried when we came in, and I’d like to think Maire O’Casey had a look of concern, as well. The three of them were amazed when we entered, as casual as you please, as if we’d just had an evening’s ramble.
“We’d heard you’d been taken!” Eamon O’Casey said, hurrying up to us. “Fergus is outside, keeping a watch out for the police. They know we are in the area and so far they have not located the address, but it is only a matter of time. So what happened?”
Barker threw himself into a chair and began patting his pockets for his pipe. “Ja, well, we did not care for the accommodations. Thomas and I wished to sleep in our own beds tonight.”
“No chance of that, I’m afraid,” Dunleavy stated briskly. “We are nearly packed. What were you doing out at night, and how did you escape?”
“We had heard a rumor that a large shipment of glycerin was to be moved from a soap factory to the docks in the morning, on the way to Mr. Nobel’s factory near Glasgow, and we didn’t want to pass up the chance. We decided to investigate. Unfortunately, it proved to be just a ruse.” Either Barker thought fast, or he’d been preparing this story as we walked back to the O’Caseys’. “We were overtaken by constables in the Strand. They marched us to Wapping Station and put us in a room. As I said, we did not care for the accommodations, so we left.”
“Did they know whom they had captured?” Dunleavy asked, looking very serious.
“Of course. I told them,” Barker answered. “I’m afraid Liverpool is now too hot for us. We have overstayed our welcome and must be smuggled out and sent elsewhere.”
Maire O’Casey had brewed tea. Domestic tranquility reigned over us all for a moment or two, and we sat and waited for our cups. As she poured, she looked over at me. Despite her spirit, I could see she was frightened. She said not a word but set the pot on the table and left to let the men discuss strategies.
“I suppose we must go back to the cottage,” Barker grumbled, “and live on rabbit until such time as the monies arrive.”
“You shall be pleased to hear that the money has arrived, gentlemen,” Dunleavy said, helping himself to a biscuit and tea.
“So, it is finally here,” Barker said, shooting me a glance. “Is it enough?” Obviously the funds had not come from the Americans, as we had just seen a telegram warning of a delay. Perhaps that was what Maire O’Casey, if it indeed were she, had been doing in the night-collecting the money from some other source. I wondered if Dunleavy had told her what it was or had merely sent her to pick up a package for him. I wished I could find out what she knew.
“It is enough and to spare,” Dunleavy assured us. “Perhaps it would be best if you gentlemen began collecting materials for our next venture. I suggest Paris. They will not sell to the Irish there, but a German-”
“Impossible,” Barker rumbled. “The British government shall be looking for me here and in Paris, combing the coasts and stopping ships along the way. I must stay out of sight for the time being. There is only one place I can go on this island where they will not be looking for me.”
“And where might that be?” Dunleavy asked.
“London,” Barker continued. “As your Mr. Poe pointed out, the best place to hide is in plain sight. Mr. Penrith shall have to go and collect the materials in Paris and have them shipped to Victoria Station. He speaks French well enough that he should be able to conduct business quite easily.”
“Me?” I asked, astonished. I’d never been out of the country before.
“They shall be looking for him as well,” O’Casey pointed out.
“Not if he were part of a couple,” Maire O’Casey said, coming in from the kitchen.
“You know I don’t like involving you too much in all this,” O’Casey protested. “My sister cannot travel to the Continent with him unchaperoned! It isn’t right. It’s unseemly!”
“But it is the perfect disguise,” Dunleavy stated. “A young couple, honeymooning in Paris. Why, they won’t look twice at him.”
“Honeymoon!” O’Casey cried.
“Not a real one, Eamon,” Maire assured him.
“If Mr. Penrith is in need of a temporary wife, why not simply get one of the streetwalkers here in Liverpool to go with him, instead?”
I thought back to the poxy women I had seen in the underground hall and shuddered.
“You trust a common trollop but not me, is that it, Eamon O’Casey?” his sister demanded. “Do you think I’m not up to the task? I’m a grown woman and certainly able to handle an assignment as simple as this. I’ll only be window dressing, I’m sure. Mr. Penrith will behave like a perfect gentleman. If not, I’ll box his ears.”
O’Casey looked at us. He was quickly running out of reasons to protest. Dunleavy was adamant, Barker silent as a statue, and Maire ready to counter any objections he put forth.
“Maire-” O’Casey began.
“It’s fine, Eamon,” she responded. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” She looked over at me, but I couldn’t read her thoughts.
“It is settled, then,” Dunleavy stated, clapping his hands together. “When might you be able to leave, Miss O’Casey?”
“Give me a day or two if you can risk it. How long shall we be gone, Mr. Dunleavy?” she asked.
“Just three or four days, I think. Enough time for Mr. Penrith to purchase all his materials and to have them shipped to London.”
“Mr. Dunleavy, I wonder if I might purchase a dress while I am there?”
He looked at her blankly. “What? At our expense?” he asked, seeing more of his money draining away.
“I shall be working for the cause, after all,” she stated. “We must keep up the pretense of being a married couple, and married women need dresses.” The little minx was arguing for a nice dress! Do it, girl, I thought. Bleed the fellow dry.