Page 57 of Boy of Chaotic Making

“Glad to see you! I have half a dozen servants searching for you both.” He nodded to Owein. “I’ve good news.”

Merritt stopped, searching the faces around him. Some of the policemen had already headed back for the front drive. “Good news?”

He nodded. “We’ve found a suspect. Well,they’vefound a suspect.” He gestured to the others. “He’s already been loaded up and carried away.”

“We have a few questions for you, Mr. Fernsby,” said the constable.

Who?Owein’s tail wagged.

“Who?” Merritt parroted.

The constable flipped through papers in a binder. “Do you know a man by the name of Benjamin Dosett?”

“I ... can’t say I do.” He glanced to Owein, who merely shook his head. “Is he American?”

“No, British,” the constable replied. They were meeting so often, Merritt really should learn the man’s name. “This is his second arrest.”

“Some of the hired men found him snooping around the west wood,” Prince Friedrich supplied.

That gave Merritt pause. What if he and Owein had decided to walk west, instead of east, that morning?

“He’s not a Druid, is he?” Merritt asked.

Both Prince Friedrich and the constable exchanged a glance. “No,” the constable said after a beat. “He’s a revolutionary. Mr. Fernsby, have you attended any Chartist meetings since arriving here?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Merely asking questions.”

“No,” Merritt clarified, “I mean, what is a Chartist?”

Prince Friedrich answered, “They’re part of a political movement that’s gained popularity in recent years. Reformists, to put it delicately.”

“I think I’d remember that,” he said with a soft chuckle, which wasn’t well received. “But no, I haven’t. This Dosett fellow is one?”

“A radical one, yes.” The constable flipped another page and asked a few more questions, but none of them were able to find any sort of connection between Merritt and this man. Still, the constable walked Merritt personally to the prison wagon that had been brought around and let him look through the bars. The single occupant, a man whoappeared to be in his midtwenties, glared at Merritt before staring down at his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Merritt apologized, “I don’t know him.”

After the wagon pulled away, the constable explained, “I believe you, Mr. Fernsby. There have been a handful of attacks made against noble estates in the name ofequality”—he scoffed as he said it—“many by revolutionaries we’ve been able to track to a specific Chartist organization.”

Merritt mulled over that for a second. “So you’re saying it’s not personal.”

“I need to question this man to see if I can find any other accomplices he might have had, but no, I doubt it was personal. Unless you wrote a book that might have stirred discontent among readers such as Dosett?”

Merritt blinked. “You know I’m an author?”

The constable sighed. “From our initial interview, yes.”

“Oh. Right.” That had been after the bedroom crumbled.Lotsof personal questions. Merritt really should learn the man’s name. “But ... no. I can’t say my fiction is any more inspirational to revolution than the next book on the shelf.” But thatwouldmake for good publicity.

The constable nodded. “I’ll send an officer if any more questions arise. Good day.” He tipped his hat and made his way back to Prince Friedrich.

So we’re okay now?Owein asked.

Letting out a long breath, Merritt planted his hands on his hips. “I suppose so.”

Chapter 21

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