The Girl In The Clockwork Collar (23 page)

She scowled at him. “He’s a ruthless criminal—what else would he do?”

She had a valid point, and it made him feel stupid that he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Dalton’s never had much of an attention span. I figured he’d give up looking. Obviously I underestimated how important the damn thing was to him.”

Fists on her hips, Finley sighed. “I beg your pardon, Jasper. Of course you took what seemed like the best course of action at the time. Let’s just go and see if we can recover it and hope no one else has found it in the meanwhile.”

“I doubt anyone has,” he explained as they continued toward the staircase. “It’s not in plain sight.”

Another sigh. “Of course not,” she muttered. “That would be too easy for us.”

Jasper grinned. “Come on, ducks.” He affected an accent much like the slight cockney she used in Dalton’s presence. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

She shot a narrow glance at him, but it was softened by her smile.

It would have been too much to ask that the lobby be empty when they entered it. Why did folks bother going to the theater if they were just going to loiter about the entrance and never watch any of it? It didn’t make any sense, but then wondering at what went on in another person’s mind gave him a headache.

Unfortunately, this smattering of people would make their job more difficult than if the space was packed. A large crowd would do much to conceal them, but as it was, there would only be more witnesses to their actions.

“The far corner.” Jasper gestured with his chin. Finley followed his gaze. “There’s a loose panel in the wall. Or at least, I’d loosened it at the time. I’m hoping no one noticed and fixed it.”

Finley’s lips twisted sardonically. “It would be just our luck if they had.”

Fortunately, luck had seen fit to smile on them just a little. Someone had placed a large potted plant in that very location. It would provide a little cover—not much, but a little.

When they reached the spot, Finley gestured for him to step behind the plant. She withdrew a fan from the bag she had brought along and began to leisurely waft it. “You remove the panel,” she instructed. “I’ll keep watch.”

Jasper smiled as she positioned herself near the plant. Her body provided extra cover. She kept her gaze raised to where his face would be if he stood, so if anyone were to glance over, they’d think she was just an overheated girl talking to her escort, who was behind the plant. The fan also worked to partially obscure her features, making it harder to identify her.

No wonder Griffin fancied her so much—she truly was a remarkably useful girl. Perhaps this wouldn’t prove such an impossible task after all.

Jasper crouched in the corner and began pressing his fingers to the panel in the wall before him. It didn’t budge.

“What’s the problem?” Finley inquired, still fanning.

“It won’t open,” he replied.

“Are you certain this is the right spot?”

He shot her a wry glance, but she didn’t see it. “Yes, I’m sure. I put it here.”

“Quite a while ago.”

“It’s here,” he said firmly. “I just need to work at it. The paint’s acted as a glue of sorts.”

“Well, get to it.” She glanced over the top of her fan. “If we stay here too long we will attract attention.”

Jasper clenched his jaw. “I know. Now would you kindly stop talking like you’re my ma and keep watch?”

She didn’t respond, so he took that as a yes and went back to work. He needed to exert force on the panel to break the seal, but if he exerted too much, the sound would attract unwanted interest.

Finally he felt the wood begin to give. A corner loosened, and he pushed on either side, slowly widening the opening until he could slip his fingers inside. Using his forearm for leverage, he gradually pushed the panel aside, enough to ease his hand into the darkness beyond. Now all he had to do was pray a rat hadn’t carried the part off or—worse—that a rat wouldn’t be waiting to take a nibble on his fingers. He shuddered at the thought.

Slowly, he felt around for the pouch he’d wrapped the piece in. The panel dug into his wrist as he searched, and he reached deeper, gritting his teeth as the wood bit into his skin. Then his fingers touched dusty cloth, and he smiled. He strained his arm, now ignoring the pain, as he managed to grab hold of the pouch and tug it toward the opening. “I think I have it,” he told Finley.

“Good,” she replied. “There’s a man walking this way who seems a little too nosy for my liking.”

Jasper pulled his arm and his bounty from the wall. The panel fell back into place, leaving only the slightest gap. No one would even notice it unless they were as near the floor as he was. He shook the dust from the pouch and rose to his feet.

“Here,” he said, holding a piece of dusty paper out to her. “Put it in your bag, quick.” He didn’t have to say it twice as Finley snatched the paper and shoved it through the drawstring opening of her bag.

Jasper stuffed the piece of the device into his inside jacket pocket. Then stepped out from the corner just as the man he assumed Finley had spotted approached them. Jasper took one look at the fella and wasn’t certain if he should shout for joy or curse.

“Remember when we talked about which one of us should run if there was trouble?” he murmured.

She gave him a slightly panicked look. “Yes.”

“The fella coming toward us is Whip Kirby.”

Finley’s eyes widened, and she gave him a shove. “Run.”

Jasper did.

The rugged lawman tried to brush past Finley to go after Jasper, but she stopped him by grabbing his arm. He looked at her hand, then her face in surprise. Obviously he wasn’t accustomed to being detained by a girl.

He glared at her and tried to pull his arm free of her grip. He failed.

“Damn it, girl,” he snarled at her. “I’m trying to help him.”

“So I hear,” she replied, stepping closer so as not to call attention to them. When she’d sent him the name of the theater, Griffin had mentioned that he thought Whip Kirby might be more of a friend to Jasper than an enemy. It appeared as though the lawman was more interested in arresting Dalton. “But I don’t know you, so you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t just let you have him.”

Kirby shot her a frustrated look. “Saucy little thing, aren’t you?”

“A ‘saucy little thing’ that can break your arm like it was a peppermint stick, Mr. Kirby. So would you mind listening for a moment so I don’t have to resort to violence? I’ve been told I’m very good at it.”

He regarded her as though she was some kind of wild animal, which was all right with Finley, because she was getting rather used to being looked at that way. “What do you want?”

“You know I’m a friend of the Duke of Greythorne, right?”

He nodded, his expression hard. “Though, now that I’ve made your acquaintance, I’m afraid I don’t understand how.”

That stung a little bit, but she had threatened to break his arm. “I wonder the same thing myself at times, but you don’t have to understand, sir. What you need to do is stay here with me long enough for Jasper to get back to Dalton, because if you don’t, Dalton won’t get his machine, and he won’t do whatever it is that’s going to get him arrested. You do want him to be arrested, right?”

It was obvious from the look on his face that the older man didn’t like what she had to say. However, it was also obvious that he realized she spoke the truth. He swore—very colorfully. Finley’s eyebrows rose in appreciation.

“Was your mother a fishwife by any chance?” she inquired. “Because you certainly sound like one.”

He flashed her a disgusted glance. “You realize that there’s a very good chance Renn will be arrested along with Dalton? You, too?”

Actually, Finley hadn’t realized that. She assumed she’d be back with Griffin and the others by then—Jasper, too. But there was a very good chance she and Jasper would be forced to participate in whatever Dalton had planned, if it was going to happen in New York.

She had gotten in plenty of trouble in the past, but she’d never been arrested. She wasn’t keen on it now.

“There’s a very good chance the duke won’t be able to help you, either. This ain’t England. As much as some folks seem to like his title and fancy ways, most folks in this country hate the English, and you’ll be the one who suffers for it.”

Finley swallowed—hard. It could be that he was just trying to scare her—and it was working—or he could mean every word. Suddenly, these past few days running with Reno Dalton didn’t seem half so exciting as they had earlier this evening.

But she had to get out of there quickly. If she and Jasper didn’t return, Dalton would send someone out looking for them, and if she was seen talking to Kirby there would be even more trouble—for Jasper.

She glanced around the foyer for any sign of the criminal and saw none. What she did see, however, made her heart freeze in her chest.

Lydia Astor-Prynn—the girl she had run into after she’d knocked out Griffin—stood on the stairs talking to several men in black suits. With her was an older woman, who looked so much like her she had to be her mother. They were all staring at Finley. Lydia pointed at her, and when the men moved away to start toward Finley, the blonde girl shot her a smug glance.

Finley swore. This time, Whip Kirby was the one who was surprised. “What was that about a fishwife?”

She ignored the remark. “Mr. Kirby, I have to get out of here. Now.”

His amusement turned to a frown as he looked at her. No doubt she looked a fright. She could fight these men—probably—but could she do it before the police arrived? What if they had guns?

Kirby glanced over his shoulder and saw the men approach. Finley barely had time to react when he wrenched his arm free of her grip and whipped her around so that her back was to him. He had handcuffs on her before she could even think to fight.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” he murmured close to her ear. Then loudly, “You’re coming with me, you dirty thief.” He flashed his badge at the men and introduced himself as a federal marshal. They immediately backed off, and Kirby marched her across the foyer to the exit.

Finley’s cheeks burned in embarrassment, and her knees trembled. She was scared, and she was angry at herself for it. Griffin trusted this man, and she should, as well, but it was hard to trust someone when they had you in irons.

She glanced up to see Sam at the top of the stairs. Her eyes burned at the sight of his scowling face. Of all the people to witness her being treated like a common criminal, she was glad it was him and not Emily or Griffin.

Finley reached into her bag and groped blindly until she found the piece of paper Jasper had given her. It was a big risk she was about to take, but she quickly—as quickly as the restraints would allow—folded it into a small square and dropped it on the floor behind her. Sam’s dark gaze followed the paper as she nudged it toward the wall, where it was less likely to be seen by someone passing by. Then his gaze lifted to hers.

He gave her a tiny nod—silently promising that everything would be all right.

As she was shoved out into the warm night, she wished she could believe him.

* * *

When he’d slipped into the seat beside Dalton, his old friend had looked at him with an expression of annoyance. The lighting in the box—in all the audience—was dim so that the stage was the center of attention, but Jasper could see good enough. He could also tell that Griffin and the others were watching from their side of the theater.

“Why are you sitting there?” Dalton asked softly.

Jasper glanced at him. “Whip Kirby just took Finley.” He knew this because he had hidden around a corner and watched the entire scenario play out. Finley had told him to run, but he couldn’t bring himself to completely abandon her—not until he had to.

Dalton’s face paled at the man’s name. The reaction intrigued Jasper. So Dalton was afraid of something—someone. “This is unfortunate,” he murmured. “Did you get the piece?”

Was that all the consideration Finley got? Jasper wanted to punch Dalton in the face. Instead, he patted his jacket. “Right here.”

“Good.” Dalton shot a glance over his shoulder at Little Hank. “Let’s go. It seems we’ll have another way to test our device. The Duke of Greythorne can wait. We have a much more important agenda now.” He took Mei by the arm and hauled her to her feet as he stood.

Jasper rose behind him. He cast one last glance across the theater before he departed and saw Griffin watching them. He shook his head, hoping his friend saw how sorry he was. Maybe someday, Griffin would forgive him, but as he turned to leave the box he figured it was highly unlikely—especially now that Finley was in Whip Kirby’s custody.

Dalton waited for him outside. Mei was with Little Hank now, and the two of them were already a considerable distance down the corridor, poor little Mei rushing to keep up with the giant’s long strides.

The criminal glanced at him as they began to walk. “Don’t mope, Jas. It doesn’t become you.”

“Bugger off,” Jasper growled, borrowing an appropriate phrase he’d picked up in London.

“Now, don’t be like that.” Dalton nudged him with his elbow. “Cheer up. We have work to do.”

“You mean putting together your precious machine?”

Dalton grinned. “Of course, and you know what we’re going to use it for?”

“What?” Jasper asked warily.

He smiled, lips curving sharply. “A jailbreak. We’re going to bust Miss Finley out.”

Where was Finley?

Griffin’s heart seemed to be struck in his throat as he watched Jasper return alone to Dalton’s box in the theater. Jasper looked worried—Dalton, too. That couldn’t be good.

He gripped the arms of his chair as he waited for Sam to return. He’d sent his friend to spy on Finley and Jasper, and he should have returned by now.

Unless something had happened to Sam, as well.

He turned to Emily. “If he’s not back soon, I’m going looking for him.”

Emily nodded, ropes of hair swinging around her face. “I’m coming with you.” She nodded across the way. “Where do you suppose they got off to?”

“No idea.”

Silence fell between them for a couple of heartbeats— which he felt in the back of his mouth.