She looked at Charlie. "Have you and Jeremy visited the museum?"
"No." Charlie shrugged. "We did mean to while we were here, but…"
Jeremy brightened. "Can we go today? The back lawn's too wet to run the curricle over it."
Alathea glanced at Mary and Alice. "Why don't we all go? We haven't gone out all together for weeks, and there's nothing else happening this morning."
A tug on her sleeve had Alathea turning. Augusta looked up at her, brown eyes wide. "Me, too?"
Alathea smiled; the grayness receded. "Indeed, poppet. You, too."
An hour later, Alathea stood in one of the cavernous halls of the museum, looking down at what purported to be a map of Central East Africa spread on a large table and protected by a glass case. Lodwar was marked, but neither Fangak nor Kingi, not even as Kafia Kingi, was shown. Worse, Lodwar appeared to be on the banks of a huge river-a river the explorer whose works she had studied had apparently missed seeing.
Alathea sighed.
She hadn't bothered with the museum before, reasoning that the clerk at the Royal Society would have mentioned any exhibits had there been any of use. In desperation, however, she'd been willing to draw a long bow. On inquiring of the custodian at the main door, and learning that the museum did indeed have an exhibit including a good map, her heart had leaped. Perhaps…
She'd left the others wandering, Charlie and Jeremy among the military exhibits, Mary, Alice, and Augusta among the ancient pottery, and slipped into this hall-only to have her hopes dashed again. Other than the map, there was only a display of native artifacts, and a few watercolors of wildlife supposedly found in Central East Africa.
Her heart felt like lead. She'd lifted even this stone but, like all the rest, there was no help beneath it. With one last disgusted look at the unhelpful map, she stepped away-
She cannoned into a gentleman. "Oh!" Falling back, she clutched her slipping shawl.
"Beg pardon, m'dear." The gentleman bowed awkwardly. "I was so incensed by this trumpery stuff, I wasn't looking out as I should." His gesture took in the entire Central East African exhibit.
"On the contrary, it was I who didn't look." Alathea took in the man's shaggy brows overhanging features weather-beaten to a walnut-brown. Grizzled whiskers framed them. His eyes were a washed-out blue, his old-style coat and corduroy knee breeches attire no longer common in town. The stance he adopted was unusual, too, his hands clasped behind his back, feet apart, legs braced.
Abruptly turning back to the exhibit, Alathea waved at the map. "Is this incorrect, then?"
His derisive reply came immediately. "Poppycock! All of it. It's nothing like that, upon my word."
"You've been there?"
"In between my sailings, when I have to wait months because of some flood or famine or skirmish between the tribes, an old prospector and I take to the hills. Why, we've crossed the whole continent a number of times." The sweep of his hand encompassed the area in which the interests of the Central East Africa Gold Company lay. "Not much improvement on the Great Desert, Central East Africa. Dusty wasteland, it is. This river shown here is nothing more than a trickle, and then only in the rainy season."
"You sail?" Alathea held her breath. "On a ship?"
"Aye." The man dragged his hat from under his arm and doffed it in a bow from a bygone age. "Captain Aloysius Struthers at your service, ma'am. Captain of the Dunslaw, sailing for Bentinck and Company."
Alathea exhaled, dragged in another breath and held out her hand. "Captain, you have no idea how glad I am to make your acquaintance."
Struthers looked taken aback, but instinctively grasped her hand. Alathea shamelessly held on to his. She cast a swift glance around. "If we retire to that bench, I'd like to explain. My interest is prompted by the Central East Africa Gold Company."
The change in Struthers's expression was instantaneous. "That blackguard, Crowley-" He broke off. "My apologies, ma'am, but when I think of the damage that jackal has done, it fair boils my blood."
"Indeed? Then you might be interested to learn that a friend and I have plans to bring his latest scheme to naught."
Slipping his hand from hers, Struthers offered his arm. "I'd be devilish interested in hearing from anyone ready to thrust a spoke in that brigand's wheel. But what's a lady like you doing mixed up with the likes of him?"
That took some time to explain. Alathea hesitated, but, in the end, revealed her identity. If she wanted Struthers's help, it was only fair to be frank. She outlined Crowley's scheme, then detailed all the false claims they'd uncovered. To her relief, Struthers grasped the situation quickly.
"Aye-that's his game, right enough. A bloodsucker, he is. He's swindled the colonists right and left all through that area. And what he's done with the local tribes…" Struthers's expression hardened. "I won't sully your ears with the tales of his infamies, my lady, but if ever there was a blackguard overdue in hell, it's Ranald Crowley."
"Yes, well, I have to agree." Alathea thrust aside the idea of an opponent steeped in infamy. "Our problem, however, is that we have no absolute proof to disprove Crowley's claims. All our evidence is surmised from what we've learned from others. We desperately need someone who can appear before the judge and corroborate what we've learned-an eyewitness, as it were."
Struthers straightened. "Captain Aloysius Struthers is your man, my lady. And I'll do better than just give you my say-so. I know where I can get maps-signed maps, mark you. And if I ask around quiet-like, I'm sure I can get more on the holdings Crowley's claimed. They ring a bell, they definitely do. I'm not positive, but I think an old acquaintance holds the mining rights to those areas. I can ask, easily enough. You'll want as many nails in your hand as possible when the time comes to make sure Crowley's coffin's good and sealed."
Alathea didn't argue. The captain's reaction to Crowley, the grim look in his eyes every time he mentioned him, frightened her far more than her previous glimpse of the villain.
Struthers nodded decisively. "It'll be an honor to bring that blackguard down. Now." Briskly, he turned to Alathea. "How do I contact you when I've gathered my proofs?"
"The hearing will be on Tuesday morning…" Alathea dug in her reticule and came up with a pencil. "In the judges' chambers at Chancery Court." The only paper she carried was the entry ticket to the museum; the back was blank. She ripped it in half. "If you need to contact me before that, this is my direction." She wrote down her name and address. There was no point giving Gabriel's address; not only had the captain not met her knight, but her protector had a habit of galloping about town. At present, he was making a furious effort to prise some formal acknowledgment of the Central East Africa Gold Company's status from the African authorities' representatives in London. He didn't hold out much hope; neither did she. The captain was their best hope-their savior, indeed. If he needed to contact anyone, it had better be her; they couldn't afford to lose touch with him now. She handed him the scrap of paper. "Now, where are you situated?"
He gave her the address of a lodging house in Clerkenwell. "I find a different place every time I stay in London. I rarely stay long."
Alathea wrote down the address, then tucked the paper into her reticule. "You won't be sailing again before Tuesday, will you?"
"Unlikely," Struthers murmured, reading her address. Then he slipped the paper into his coat pocket. "Right, then. I'd better set to." They both rose. Struthers bowed to Alathea. "Never fear, my lady. Aloysius Struthers won't let you down."