Page 104 of Their Master

“The man in question ‘asn’t got no family to speak of. ‘Ee ‘asn’t got no bolt ‘ole in the country, neither.”

Smith knew all that. It hadn’t surprised him that Sir Clayton owned very little. The man was infamous for never passing up a card game or horse race, no matter how rigged the game or lame the horse.

Smith sat back when the barmaid returned and deposited two foaming pints on the table. She hovered, met Smith’s gaze, and then scuttled back to the bar.

Red took a slurping gulp from his glass.

“What else?”

“Ee makes a fair living off black.”

Smith sighed. “Yes, I know he engages in blackmail.” He’d managed to purchased a copy of Clayton’s list of victims—for an obscene price—earlier that day. Clayton’s years at the Home Office had given him unparalleled access to dirty secrets, not to mention put him in a position to bury a goodly number of his own.

Smith would consider approaching some of the individuals on the list if nothing else yielded any results. Most of the names belonged to powerful people whom he had no desire to alienate. More importantly, Smith didn’t want everyone in the city to know he was after Clayton. Right now, the only people who knew were his three friends and Red Jasper.

He could trust his three friends.

The man across from him…?

Well.

Red leaned even closer and it was all Smith could do not to gag at the smell of his body odor. “I’ve found somebody ‘oo ain’t on that list.”

“Oh?”

Red nodded. “’Ee tapped the Earl of Selkirk for ‘elp just yesterday.”

Smith sat back, startled by the name.

He wasn’t surprised to learn that the Infamous Earl would do plenty that was worthy of blackmail, only that the man would pay to hide anything. The rumors that swirled around the millionaire, dark horse earl were plentiful and murky.

Smith was intrigued. What, in the name of all that was unholy, had Selkirk done that Clayton could use as blackmail fodder?

“Do you know why Selkirk would pay him?” he asked Red.

Red snorted. “Naw, guv. ‘is loreship don’t confide in me since I gave ‘im the cut direct.” He cackled at his jest.

“So, that’s all you have for me—that he sent a minion to Selkirk?”

Red wiped the foam from his lips with the back of his hand. “You know ‘ow much brass I ‘ad to spread about to get eventhat?”

Smith sighed, reached into his coat pocket, and produced the small leather pouch he’d filled withbrassbefore leaving the house.

When Red reached for it, Smith trapped both the money and his hand on the table. “You know who to come to if anyone asks you about this subject, don’t you?”

The smirk evaporated from the other man’s face and a slight tremor passed through the hand Smith was holding down. Good, it was nice to know that some of his reputation from theold dayspersisted.

Of course, dropping Onions off on his street corner earlier that day—rather the worse for wear—would have also helped the criminal element remember Smith and what he was capable of.

“Aye,” Red said, nodding. “I know what’s o’clock.”

Smith released Red’s hand, pushed his untouched pint across the warped, sticky table, and stood.

“Oi, one more fing, guv.”

Smith lifted an eyebrow.

“Nobody can prove nuffink, but Clayton’s ‘ad people snuffed. You might not need to find‘im.Wouldn’t be surprised if‘eesends somebody foryou.”

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