“Or at least,” Oliver added, “they’re not aware of any connection.”
Sophy looked from one to the other. “What do you mean by that?”
Martin pushed aside his empty plate. “We mean that we’ve assumed our villain—for want of a more accurate term—is somehow connected with steelmaking. That they’re some other outfit wanting to take over Carmichael Steelworks.”
Oliver grimaced. “We probably leapt to that conclusion becausewecame here, to Sheffield, thinking to acquire Carmichael Steelworks ourselves.”
Martin shrugged. “It was a reasonable assumption, at least at the start, but what if it’s not correct?”
Sophy glanced from him to Oliver. “If that’s not the case…where does that leave us?”
Frowning, Martin admitted, “I’m not sure.”
Movement at the edge of his vision drew his attention. He turned his head and saw a footman shifting impatiently from foot to foot while scanning the tables.
The footman’s gaze reached their table, and recognition lit the man’s face. Plainly relieved to have sighted his quarry, he hurried over and halted, facing Sophy. “Miss Carmichael. I’ve been sent to find a Mr. Cynster and was told he would most likely be with you.”
Excitement shot through Martin, and he shifted to face the footman. “I’m Cynster. What is it?”
“There’s a man at the door who’s asking for you, sir. He says he works for you—a Mr. Roland.”
Martin nodded and rose. “I’ll come immediately.” He gestured to the footman to lead the way. As soon as the man was out of earshot, Martin looked at Sophy and Oliver, who had also come to their feet. “I’ve had my men keeping an overnight watch at the steelworks. Roland’s one of them.”
Sophy’s eyes flared wide. “Someone’s trying to break in?”
“Possibly. I reasoned that whoever had been using a key to gain access wouldn’t necessarily hear about us changing the locks and would therefore try again at some point.” Martin waved at the retreating footman. “Let’s find out what’s happened.”
The three of them hurried in the footman’s wake, ignoring the curious looks of those they passed. Most of the guests were still in the supper room or standing chatting and nibbling just outside.
Sophy clattered down the main stairs directly behind Martin. They reached the Assembly Rooms’ foyer to find the senior footman in his town livery waiting beside a tallish man, rather thin, dressed in a scrupulously neat black suit.
Martin walked up to the pair and nodded to the senior footman. “Thank you.”
The man bowed and retreated to stand by the door.
Martin looked at his man. “Roland. What’s happened?”
Roland had been looking at Sophy and Oliver, but at the command in Martin’s voice, he straightened to attention. “As usual, we’ve been keeping watch at the steelworks, and a short time ago, a man—well, by his bearing and clothes, I would say he was a gentleman—walked up, bold as brass, to the main office door and tried to use a key to open it. When the key didn’t work, the man swore and kicked the door. He stood and stared at the door for a minute or more, then turned around and strode off.”
“You followed?”
Roland nodded. “All of us. The man walked down Rockingham Street to a small hotel called the Waterloo Arms. Not the most salubrious of inns but not dreadful, either. He went in, and Tunstall followed. He quickly came back out and said the man had hired a horse and gone upstairs, we assumed to pack. Figgs and his crew rushed off to get our horses while Tunstall and I kept watch. The man eventually came out with a carpet bag, tied it to the saddle, mounted, and rode off.
“Figgs returned on horseback at that moment—he passed the man in the street, but the man didn’t seem to notice. Figgs’s boys were hanging back, and they knew to set off after the man and did, strung out so he wouldn’t spot them and get the wind up. Figgs had brought mounts for me and Tunstall, and the three of us followed the lads.”
“Did you lose him?” Oliver asked.
Roland blinked at him. “No. We picked him up easily enough and continued on his trail.” Roland returned his gaze to Martin and continued, “He went out along Broad Lane, then took the road up over Crookesmoor. At that point, we agreed that I should come and report while the others continued following him, leaving either a man or a message at each change of direction, like we’d planned.”
Martin nodded. “Good work.”
Sophy had listened without interruption while her heart sank to her slippers. She cleared her throat. “Crookesmoor. You’re sure this man, the gentleman who tried to break into the steelworks, took the road over the moor?”
Roland looked at her curiously, but nodded without hesitation. “Quite sure, miss.”
Martin and Oliver had both turned to look at her. Martin caught her eyes and arched a brow.
She drew in a breath, then looked at Roland. “This gentleman, did you see him well enough to describe him?”
