it in the air, and let the daylight gleam in its depths. “Shall we say, a quick and easy end?” he said, motioning for us to drink. Richard made no move, but Tom, with the habits of good behaviour drummed into him picked up the glass, and I leaned forward to mine.

Richard’s calm voice prevented us. “After you.”

Terry didn’t drink, but put his glass down.

Richard quirked an eyebrow. “Laudanum? Or something a little more professional?”

The fat man smiled. “Someone with the same impulses as myself. I would have enjoyed getting to know you better, sir, had your imminent end not prevented it.”

“Tell me—how do you propose to carry this out?” Richard used tones worthy of the drawing room, but the chill remained, in cut glass precision.

Terry smiled broadly. “You’ll be taken with your horses, and thrown over the cliff. A tragic riding accident. I’d like the opportunity of finishing what I started with Miss Golightly here. In fact I might still do so.”

Tom picked up his glass and threw it to the floor. Richard turned to him in polite enquiry. “Why did you come here, Tom? You should really have left it to us, you know.”

“I couldn’t leave matters as they were,” Tom said. “I had to do something, and it seemed no one else would do anything.”

“How wrong you were. So, another member of our exclusive society I think, my sweet.” Richard smiled, the query in his eyes only for me. With him, I had no problem. I smiled back serenely.

Terry motioned at Tom negligently with his pistol. “This boy told me you love this lady. He must have mistaken the physical act with the mental one, don’t you think? I’m surprised you’re still planning to go ahead with the ceremony. You’ve had what you wanted, after all. Is she that good?” He looked at Richard with genuine curiosity in his protuberant eyes.

Richard didn’t rise to his bait. I was sure now that Terry was provoking him, trying to get him to attack so he could shoot; trusting in the mangling the cliff would give his body to hide the evidence. “How’s your shoulder?” he asked.

“Sore,” replied Terry immediately.

Richard smiled, the only thing to disturb his glacial calm so far. “Good.”

“I trust my servants relieved you of those wicked little knives?” Terry asked, a glint in his eye. “I’ve a good mind to practise with them myself. Do they cut faces well?” His attention turned to me, his meaning clear.

“Sharp as razors,” Richard put his hand to his pocket, and let the knives click together, so Terry could hear.

“Good God, they were supposed to take all your weapons away. He called out to the man outside the door. “Hey you!”

Two armed footmen entered, and behind them was Carier. “Anyone?” Richard didn’t look around.

“Cawnton,” said Carier. “I sent him home. He saw reason.”

“Good.”

Terry wasn’t pleased at the intrusion, but the sight of the two armed men seemed to put his mind at ease. “See no one comes in,” Richard said to his man.

“Yes, my lord,” said Carier, for all the world as if Richard had asked him to pass him his coat. He left.

Terry turned on his men. “You were supposed to see all the weapons were confiscated. Strang still seems to have weapons in his pocket, and I hope that scabbard’s empty.”

In reply, Richard lifted his coat and let Terry see the hilt of his sword under it. His eyes never left Terry’s face. “Give the boy his guns back.” One of the footmen obeyed. Now Tom’s face was a picture of bewilderment.

Unhurriedly, Richard crossed the room towards Terry, and went behind the desk. In a last gesture, Terry raised his gun and fired at him.

 

The gun clicked uselessly. Before he could turn it round and use the butt, Richard took the barrel in his hand and wrenched it out of Terry’s grasp. At the same time he dipped his hand into his pocket and drew out his own flintlock. He put the barrel against Terry’s temple and in a voice of steel, said, “Unlike yours, this one is loaded. Sit down.”

Such was the force of his voice we all sat, except the servants who stood silently behind.

“You may go,” Richard said to them, and without a word the two men bowed and left.

Terry sighed heavily. “How much did they cost you? It must have been a pretty penny, because I pay them extremely well.”

“I know,” said Richard. “I set their salaries.”

Terry’s head jerked round, but the gun stayed firmly against his temple. He stared Richard straight in the eye, and Richard gazed back at him, pure and innocent. “You’ve heard of Thompson’s?” he drawled.

Terry shrugged “We get most of our servants from there, I believe. What of it?”

“I’m one of the principals of the company.” Richard spoke slowly and clearly, waiting for his prey to catch up with him. “It’s a useful sideline, and it’s becoming more profitable every year. A portmanteau, you might say, several uses all rolled into one. It’s the best domestic agency in the country, a spy network and a private army.”

Terry was silent. He stared up at Richard, and realised how he’d contrived all this, how he’d been defeated. “Aren’t private armies illegal?”

“Not as illegal as smuggling,” Richard answered.

I glanced at my friend. “Do close your mouth, Tom.” He obeyed.

Richard moved the pistol against Terry’s temple. “On Thursday night, didn’t you recognise any of the men I conjured up? Or don’t you recognise them