Page 59 of Beauty and the Thief

“I have ears,” Donnelly said. “I’ve heard more than I ought. Best for me to get away before someone else decides I’ve heard too much.” Donnelly slipped behind the bar. “You ever worked as a publican before?”

Cal shook his head. “No, but I know me way around.”

“Sure you do. I’ll show you anyway, and in a couple hours the boys will be here. They’re good boys and don’t need much more than a slap on the back of the head once in a while to keep their minds on pouring. Want some cider to wake you up?”

“No.” But his throat had gone dry the moment he’d walked in. The scents were so familiar, so relaxing his hands itched so badly to put his hands on a cup he had to press them on the chair or they’d shake. Baron couldn’t have known that this was Cal’s worst fear realized. If Cal had thought it through, he would have realized he’d be spending time in a pub. Was Innishfree supposed to invite him behind closed doors so he could take notes on their plans to overthrow the British monarchy? No, he’d have to meet them out and about. And where did men gather? A dark, out of the way pub called The Selkie.

“What if I don’t want to be a publican? Is there another way to become friendly with the Innishfree lads?”

Donnelly leaned a hip on the bar. “Not one I’d recommend. Before you there was another man. We didn’t acknowledge each other, but I knew who he was. He tried infiltrating the group directly. It didn’t work out so well for him.”

“He worked for Baron?” Cal asked.

“He was like me. We don’t harbor any love for the English, but we don’t agree with the tactics groups like Innishfree use. I’m not a Royal Saboteur, but I’ve had my own training.”

“And this other man?”

“He was trained. But not well enough.” Donnelly gave Cal a hard stare. “Now maybe it would be best if I showed you around a bit?”

Cal nodded. “One more question. The other man. Did he have two different colored eyes?”

Donnelly was silent for a long moment. “Aye. One brown and one blue.”

Cal suppressed a shudder.

Donnelly kept him busy showing him the books and the inventories and introducing him to the cook, a stout woman who chopped potatoes like they were aristocratic heads under the blade of the guillotine. It relieved Cal to realize he wouldn’t be spending all his time with his hand on a barrel tap or with a glass in his hand. It would be all too easy to take a sip and then another and before long he’d be back on the river without a boat or even an oar.

About noon two young men came in, at least a dozen years younger than Cal. They were skinny enough that Cal gathered The Selkie wasn’t any more profitable than it looked. He would have given them coin to buy a meal—which just showed how soft he’d grown in his old age—but they were followed in by several men who wanted dinner and a pint before they had to be back at work.

Cal was busy enough that he didn’t realize the men he wanted had arrived until they’d been there and watching him for at least an hour. That was for the best. The more this part became real to him, the less suspicion he’d garner. He was wiping down the bar when he first noticed the group of three men and two women in a back corner. That table had been empty all day, and Cal had wondered why no one had taken it. Clearly, it was reserved for this lot, who sipped at their drinks and cut their eyes at him. Donnelly walked by him and gave him a slap on the shoulder, murmuring, “There’s the lot you’re looking for.”

Cal smiled as though the comment had been genial, and then he went in the back. Rule number two in a swindle—don’t appear too eager.

The cook was beheading carrots now, and Cal leaned on the door of the small alcove Donnelly had made into an office of sorts, listening to the knife thwack against the wood. His stomach growled, and he wondered if Bridget had managed to buy something to eat and if she was at home even now wondering where he might be. He didn’t have a watch, but the kitchen had a clock, and he peered at it. It was after seven. He hadn’t made it back for tea, as promised, and it looked as though he’d be here for hours yet.

Donnelly came in then and caught the direction of his glance. “Tomorrow tell your wife to come here else you won’t be seeing her but once in a full moon. Tonight, go on home. I can close up and show you how it’s done tomorrow.”

“I know how it’s done,” Cal said, thinking of all the times he’d been thrown out when the publican or the owner of a gin shop wanted to close.

“So you say and I have no reason to doubt you. But neither have I seen you touch anything stronger than tea.”

So then Donnelly was no fool. Perhaps even an Irish government agent and not merely a shill.

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Oh, you’re thirsty. I can see it in the way your gaze lingers on a full glass ‘fore you hand it over. The question is whether that thirst will be a problem for you. If we’re to call this off, best to do it now—”

“I said I wasn’t thirsty. So there’s no problem then.”

Donnelly narrowed his eyes, and the silence would have been thick if not for the thwack of the knife decapitating carrots.

“Then I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You will.” Cal pulled his cap on.

“Give your missus my best.”

“Of course.”

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