Marc wheeled the buggy around and raced backtowards the entrance to Dutton’s property. Into a sliver ofmoonlight sprang Nestor Peck, his bony bow-legs pistoning himforward. Marc reached out with his hand, but his assistance was notrequired. Nestor’s momentum carried him up and into the well of thebuggy, where he collapsed in a heap.
They were almost at The Sailor’s Arms beforeNestor was able to state the obvious: “D-dogs,” he said. “A wholepack of ‘em.”
“But you did deliver the envelope?”
Nestor grinned. “I did, didn’t I?”
***
Nestor slipped Budge’s envelope under the side dooron Peter Street that led to the barkeep’s private quarters. Bothmister and missus would be occupied in the taproom into the weehours, but they would see the note in the morning. If Gillian foundit, Tobias might have some explaining to do, but Marc figured hewas good at that sort of thing. The final drop was made atCrenshaw’s place up on York Street north, where Nestor was actuallychased for thirty yards by a burly but slow-moving servant.
Marc praised Nestor’s courage, and assuredhim that everything would go well Sunday evening when phase two ofthe plan would be executed. Then he took him to Cobb’s house. Therehe was put back into Dora’s care, where he calmed his nerves withtwo platters of ham and eggs.
***
After church on Sunday, Marc walked down to the jailand asked to see Brodie. If the lad was anxious, he did not showit. Calvin Strangway had kindly allowed Diana Ramsay to visitseveral times on Saturday, bringing him food and drink. But it washer company and her faithfulness that were keeping the young man’sspirits as high as could be expected. Without going into details,Marc told him that he and Cobb had hatched a plot to entrap themurderer. If it worked, all would be well in the morning. If not,Marc assured him that they still had a solid strategy to fall backupon in court. This of course was close to an outright lie, in thatall Marc had left for the jury was a trio of character-witnessesand a run at Budge as a “possible.” And while Robert could notobject to Budge being set up as a potential murderer, Marc would belimited to suggesting that the motive was based on the altercationbetween the barkeep and Duggan in the taproom the week before thecrime. There was now no way for Marc to introduce Duggan’starget-list and Nestor’s corroborating testimony without exposingthe worthies that Robert wanted protected. But beard Tobias Budgehe would, and then move on to a sizzling summation.
But if his plan to expose the real killerfailed tonight and if he failed tomorrow to gain an acquittal,would he have the courage to admit to his client that he haddeliberately abandoned his best defense? Could he ever practise lawagain? Or look at himself in the mirror? Brodie, bless him, did notpress for details. His trust in Marc was touching – andabsolute.
That afternoon and early evening wereunbearably long. There was nothing to do but wait – and hope thatthe messages had been read and the bait taken. Jasper came over tovisit Charlene, and Marc sat down with them and Beth to reviewtheir tentative plans for the addition to Briar Cottage in thespring (when Maggie was to be joined by a baby brother). Jasper wasparticularly excited because he had enlisted the aid of BillyMcNair, a master carpenter and friend of the Edwards. Billy andJasper would work together on the new rooms, and if Billy weresuitably impressed, he promised to take Jasper on as a partner. Inthe meantime, he would try to pass along small jobs to Jasper overthe winter.
After supper Marc tried to while away thetime reading Oliver Twist, a novel that Beth had recentlypurchased by an author she had taken a fancy to. But the wordsremained merely words on the page. Every ten minutes or so he wouldconsult his pocket-watch, and try not to think of all the thingsthat could go wrong with his plan. Maggie provided some welcomediversion when she astonished her parents by attempting to crawlacross the rug in front of the fire.
Finally, at nine o’clock, he kissed Beth,bussed the sleeping baby, and drove over to Cobb’s house. Nestorand Cobb were waiting on the stoop. No-one said a word as theytrotted along King Street towards Yonge. The scheme had been goneover thoroughly. Everyone knew his role. Nestor was pale, butlooked determined enough. Much depended upon him.
At the Court House Marc pulled the carriageup, parked it at the side of the building and tethered the horse toa post. Cobb left first, followed a minute later by Nestor, andthen Marc. With Cobb leading the way, they walked at one-minuteintervals northward up Toronto Street to Newgate, then west acrossYonge to Bay. There they turned south, keeping to the shadows, butmeeting no-one on this quiet Sabbath evening. As each neared theeast-west service lane above King, they slipped soundlessly into itand moved due east until they came to the head of the alley inwhich the exchange was to take place. This elaborate and roundaboutroute had been necessary, in Marc’s thinking, because the killermight decide to arrive well before ten o’clock in order to commanda view of the obvious entrance to the alley – from King Street.Cobb and Marc must not be seen anywhere near Nestor in advance ofthe event. And it was imperative that both of them witness theexchange of note and cash, and overhear any incriminating dialoguebetween Nestor and his “target.”
Cobb now left Marc and Nestor, and inched hisway south among the shadows of the alley, lit only by pale shaftsof moonlight here and there as they shot through the gaps betweengables and chimney-pots. Ten yards from King Street, he eased backinto an alcove and squatted down, hidden completely by shadow.Next, Nestor came down the alley, not worrying that he might beseen since the killer expected him to be here. At the halfway pointhe stopped, peered nervously about, found the apple-box he waslooking for, and sat down to wait. Just in front of him a swath ofmoonlight poured down, into which he could step and be seen whenthe time came to do so. Meanwhile, Marc crouched down, as Cobb haddone, and stayed hidden at the head of the alley, with a clear viewsouthward all the way down to King Street. They were all now inplace, their arrival unobserved. The waiting began.
***
And a long wait it was. It must have been close toten-thirty when Cobb’s legs began to cramp and the scarf at histhroat no longer kept the chill out. He shifted from side to side,to no avail. Finally he had to sit down on his haunches and stretchhis legs full out – leaving himself vulnerable. Fifteen yards away,he could hear Nestor cough and the apple-box creak. If the killerdidn’t come soon, Nestor was certain to panic and make a break forit. Cobb had just worked the cramp out of his left calf andpainfully got back up into a crouching position when he heardfootsteps. The sound, just audible, came from the King Streetentrance to the alley. The new arrival was treading slowly,stopping every few feet – probably to make sure he was alone. Cobbwanted to tilt his face up to have a look, but he dared not forfear that either the movement or the whites of his eyes would alertthe killer, and spook him. So he remained utterly still as thefellow moved past him, not five feet away, and on up towards Nestorand the apple-box. As instructed, Nestor must have now stepped upinto the light, for his voice, trembling and falsetto, could beheard saying, “You brung the money?”
Cobb raised himself up at this, and peered upthe alley. Nestor was standing in a wedge of pale moonlight, butthe killer was beside him, obscured by shadow. He was wearing abulky, calf-length overcoat and a fur cap – in an attempt todisguise himself. He could be any one of the “possibles.” Thefellow made some response to Nestor’s question, but it was low andmuted.
“I gotta see yer money before I c’n give yathe letter,” Nestor said shakily.
Cobb saw the killer’s arm move up into thelight, a package of some sort in his hand. Nestor took it and beganto fumble at its contents. “Okay. Here’s the letter ya wanted.”