Page 76 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
Seeking to divert her thoughts, she wondered what Gray’s taste in houses was like. After traveling over half the world, he might be inclined to favor a modern home. She tried to imagine what such a place might be like, then set aside the point as being of no immediate moment.
With the façades of Oxford Street slipping past, she refocused on tomorrow and the release of the hue and cry edition. She wondered what the day would bring and how much closer to capturing the killer they might be by that time tomorrow.
Chapter 11
It was strange how seeing Izzy over the breakfast table had come to seem normal. On walking into the Norfolk Crescent breakfast parlor and finding her at the table, Gray felt something in him relax. Stand down.
Exchanging a smile, he pulled out the chair opposite, sat, and asked, “How went the print run?”
She told him, and with a few well-chosen questions, he had her describing her day in detail, outlining the altered logistics involved in printing a larger number of copies and giving her opinion of Donaldson, the new photographer, and her hopes for what he would bring toThe Crierand also how well he’d fitted in with the rest of the staff through the ensuing hours.
“It was a real team effort,” she concluded as they rose from the table and headed for the front hall.
They shrugged on their coats and retrieved their hats, and she threw him a curious glance. “How did the house hunting go?”
He smiled and escorted her out of the door and into the waiting carriage. Once they’d sat and the carriage had started rolling, he replied, “I’m not as yet sure. That particular house might suit, but I need to do some research first.”
Before she could probe further, he said, “I’m curious—did Baines lend a hand, too?”
“Believe it or not, he did, but only at the end, in the last hour or so. However, Littlejohn was there for the entire day, along with a young constable. They were a big help, as was your Tom Corby.”
“He told me he’d enjoyed himself. So what, exactly, will happen today?”
As the carriage rattled across London, she explained how the distributors would send lads to fetch their allocated number of copies. “Most have a set amount, week to week, but I expect, once the distributors themselves see the edition, we’ll have reorders coming in. That’s why we printed extra, and Lipson and Maguire are going to prepare the formes this morning, so that if we get even more orders beyond the extra copies printed, then this afternoon, we can run off more.”
A mounting sense of expectation had gripped them both by the time the carriage drew up at the back of Mrs. Carruthers’s house. They stopped to say hello, but didn’t dally and went straight through, emerging into Woburn Square and walking briskly to the printing works.
When they turned onto the mews, even though it wanted a good ten minutes to eight o’clock, there was already a queue of impatient lads lined up before the door. Some were alone, but others were in pairs and towed small handcarts.
Several recognized Izzy and bobbed their heads. On gaining the steps before the front door, she surveyed the gathering. “You’re here bright and early.”
The group exchanged glances, then one of the pair of older lads closest to the door volunteered, “Our gaffers all heard about the special edition. Mr. Hughes warned us to be here good and early and to get twenty copies more than our usual.”
Murmurs along the line confirmed that others had similar orders.
Izzy smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure we’ll be able to manage that.” Confidingly, she added, “We printed extra.”
Relieved, the lads grinned.
With a “Won’t be long now,” she turned to the door.
Mary stood on the other side; she flipped the lock and let Izzy and Gray in, then shut and locked the door again. “Cheeky beggars. The instant we open up, they’ll be streaming in.”
Izzy, Gray noticed, hadn’t stopped smiling. He took in the towers of stacked copies ofThe Crierand owned himself impressed.
All the staff were already there, scattered behind the counter and deeper in the workshop, no doubt having been let in by those who had spent the night guarding the place. Izzy raised her voice and spoke to the workshop at large. “Our distributors have heard about the special edition and are already asking for extra copies.”
Everyone brightened.
Scanning the faces, Gray saw signs of the underlying tension he felt, overlaid by hope that the novel tack of a hue and cry edition would work, and today, they would get some clue that would identify Quimby’s killer.
That all their hard work over the past days would pay off.
He and Izzy retreated to the office and shed their hats and coats, then somewhat reluctantly, Izzy sat behind her desk.
When he looked at her questioningly, she sighed. “I need to note and issue amended invoices to account for the extra copies they want to take. There isn’t enough space at the counter to do it there, so…” She gestured at her desk.
At eight o’clock on the dot, Mary unlocked the front door. With Horner standing beside her, ready to yank any overzealous lad up by his collar, and Matthews lounging against the counter, blocking ready access to the copies stacked there, the youths read the signs and came in quietly and waited their turn to hand in a slip provided by their employers, stating the number of copies to be taken in their name.
