Page 72 of To Catch an Earl

Benedict nodded. “They really were a bunch of amateurs. Couldn’t find a clue if it was tied to their coattails.”

Seb sent him a droll look. “But we digress. We told the locals we didn’t believe in the missing servant’s guilt and let them know that if he ever presented himself at Bow Street, he would receive a fair hearing. I even hinted there would be a financial reward for information.”

Alex nodded. “Good thinking.”

“Yesterday, an Italian by the name of Stefano Mancinisent a message to Bow Street to meet at a tavern down by the East India docks.” Seb’s mouth kicked up in a mocking grin.

“Mancini witnessed the entire thing,” Benedict said. “He was about to deliver his master’s usual post-dinner tipple when an ‘Eenglish gentleman’ arrived and was shown into the study. Mancini, the perfect servant, heard raised voices and decided to listen at the door. Since it was good, solid English oak, he could hear very little, so he sneaked around the side of the house to see what was happening through the study window. It was dark outside, so he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be seen from within.”

“Very commendable,” Alex said snidely.

Seb glared at Benedict for taking over the tale and continued. “He saw his master remove a painting from the wall and open the safe that was hidden behind it. Unfortunately, whatever the English gentleman wanted was not inside. The Englishman grew agitated. Mancini saw him pull a pistol from his cloak and threaten Andretti. Andretti held up his hands and went to his writing desk, one he’d brought over from Italy. He reached inside a drawer, released a secret compartment, and withdrew a large, blue stone.

“This, apparently, was what the Englishman had been after. He pocketed the stone, gestured for Andretti to sit, and calmly shot him in the head. Mancini, quite justifiably, believed he would be next. He ran away and hid in a nearby farmer’s cowshed. When he was certain the murderer had gone, he returned to the house, packed his few belongings, helped himself to the contents of the safe, and hightailed it to London.”

“His plan,” Benedict interrupted again, “was to catch a boat back to his native Genoa, but he was robbed and beaten on the way back to his lodgings. With no money,and no other options, he decided to contact Bow Street and claim the reward for information about Andretti’s killer.”

Alex leaned forward. “Can he positively identify Danton?”

“Without a doubt,” Seb said. “And he’s willing to testify. He’s keen to see his master’s killer brought to justice. Conant’s put him in a safehouse in Whitehall under guard until we catch Danton.”

Alex nodded. “Along with Danton’s oblique written admission in that note he sent to Emmy, Mancini’s testimony should be enough to convict him. Good.”

“So all you have to do now is catch him and retrieve the sapphire,” Benedict said happily. “Easy.”

Seb frowned. “What will you be doing?”

Benedict slapped his palms on his knees and stood. “I’ll be getting back to my wife. It pains me to miss an adventure, boys, but I promised Georgie I’d escort her to the theatre. You’re going to have to do this one without me. Remember not to get shot, all right?”

Chapter 39.

Alex swallowed the rest of his brandy and frowned into the fire as Benedict took his leave. “Danton’s expecting Emmy to meet him—alone—at ten o’clock, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll go with her and take up position close by. I don’t want her near that murderous bastard any longer than absolutely necessary. She’s a witness. There’s no chance he’s going to let her live. He’ll try to shoot her, just as he did Andretti. As soon as either of us gets a clean shot, we take it, understood?”

“We can’t kill him,” Seb said, his expression grim. “I know it’s tempting, but we need him alive to face trial.”

Alex scowled. “I know.”

“If you want her to have some extra protection, why don’t we borrow that guard dog from the British Museum? He certainly looks fearsome enough.”

“Brutus? Good idea.”

“So, assuming we succeed in capturing Danton, what are your plans for the fair Miss Danvers? A carriage straight to Newgate?”

Seb’s expression was pure mischief. He and Emmy would get on extremely well, Alex thought. He tried to school his features into revealing absolutely nothing, but his old friend knew him far too well.

“I know that look!” Seb said, suddenly incredulous. “It’s the one you get when you’re about to do something stupid but heroic. Like when you leapt in front of me and saved me from that sniper’s bullet in Spain.” His smile widened. “You’re not going to turn her in, are you? I knew it! Whatareyou going to do? The prince demands a culprit.”

“He’ll have one. Danton.”

“You’re going to claim Danton’s the Nightjar? Conant won’t believe that.”

“No, but the prince will.”

“You’re going to lie to him?”

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