The constables obliged and, after prodding the men to get them started, accompanied them down the track to where a police wagon waited on the street.
With the captives dealt with, Stokes turned to the younger gentlemen. “Now, as for you three, you need to avoid this area entirely and make sure you don’t run into Chesterton. We’ll be here tonight in force, and hopefully before midnight, we’ll have him in our tender care.”
“Will we be called into court to give evidence?” Josh asked.
Stokes waggled his head. “That depends on how sensible Chesterton is, but it’s possible none of you will be called as witnesses.” He glanced at the rest of their company. “We have more than enough respectable witnesses without dragging you three in.”
Josh appeared intensely relieved, but Harrison and Gibson weren’t as forgiving.
Harrison looked hopefully at Stokes. “Can’t we help you catch him?”
Barnaby stepped in to save Stokes from issuing an adamant “No,” instead pointing out, “Given he’s been paying you to keep his secret, that might not be wise.”
Jordan elaborated, “We can’t be sure who else might turn up, so best if you three stay far away.”
“Amen,” Stokes muttered.
Harrison and Gibson exchanged disappointed glances, but reluctantly agreed that they would return to Falcon Street and remain there until the following day.
“We may as well be off, then.” Gibson looked at Harrison and Josh. “Gun running.” He shook his head. “Even in my wildest dreams, I would never have imagined it was that.”
When no one encouraged them to remain, the three nodded to all and started to trudge down the track. Then Gibson paused and looked back. “Ruthie?”
Jordan glanced at Ruth, standing beside Penelope, and called to Gibson, “I’ll see Miss Cardwell home.”
When Gibson arched a brow at Ruth, she hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be fine. Go—and keep your head down.”
Barnaby didn’t need to see his wife’s expression to know what she was thinking.
They watched the three men walk to the street where several hackneys, having delivered passengers to the out-of-the-way address, had loitered, hoping to secure fares to take back to town.
Once the three had climbed into a hackney and it had turned and rattled off, Jordan looked at Ruth. “We should probably head off, too. There’s nothing we can accomplish by staying, and your mother must be wondering where you are. Your shopping trip has taken hours.”
“Oh! Yes—I’d forgotten.” Ruth turned to Penelope. “I really better go.”
“Of course.” Penelope squeezed Ruth’s hand and beamed at Jordan. “No doubt we’ll be following you shortly.”
Stokes looked up from dealing with his constables. “I’d appreciate it if both of you would join us at Albemarle Street tomorrow morning at nine. Barnaby and I will need to share what we learn from Chesterton’s arrest tonight and combine that with what we’ve already gleaned before we formally interrogate the man.”
Ruth glanced at Jordan, then both readily agreed.
Jordan waved Ruth down the track. “Let’s grab one of those hackneys before they get tired of waiting and take off.”
Barnaby smiled as Ruth and Jordan made their farewells. Then Barnaby watched his wife stare intently at the pair as they walked close beside each other, rather studiously not touching, all the way to the street.
Jordan led Ruth to the best-looking hackney of the three lined up on the verge. It was the same hackney he’d hailed in Falcon Street and had proved to be well sprung.
He handed Ruth into the carriage and called to the jarvey, “Finsbury Circus.”
The jarvey smiled and saluted with his whip, entirely willing to embark on such a lengthy trip. The instant Jordan had climbed aboard and settled beside Ruth on the padded bench, the jarvey’s whip snapped, and his horse stepped smartly out. In seconds, they were bowling through Tilbury, then swung north onto the London Road.
They’d traveled that far in silence, both no doubt thinking of the recent discoveries and their implications. But as they left Tilbury behind and the horse’s pace picked up, Ruth said, “I own to being rather surprised by the inspector’s invitation to join the meeting tomorrow.”
Jordan shot her an amused glance. “You shouldn’t be. You’re by far and away our best source of insight into Thomas’s thoughts and likely reactions.” He paused, then facing forward, added, “Being able to judge with some degree of confidence how he might have acted in a given situation—for instance, discovering those guns—will be crucial to figuring out what he did next.”And presumably, that was what led to him being killed.
A faint frown in her eyes, Ruth glanced at him. “I’m fairly certain that what he did next was send that letter to your employer asking for advice.”
Jordan conceded, “That seems likely. He sent the letter on Monday, so it must have been on the Sunday night that he followed Chesterton to the warehouse.”
