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“No one,” he told her.

She shook her head. “I know what you are,” she said, continuing to aim the gun at the center of his chest. “Committee rat. You’ve been sniffing around my home for days. I already told the other that I don’t have what you’re looking for.”

“No,” Harte said, feeling more light-headed than he had a moment before. “Not Committee.”

“Then who sent you?” she demanded. Harte had no doubt that she would shoot if she didn’t get the answer she wanted. “What do you want?”

“Please…” Harte stepped into the beam of light. “I’m not from the Committee. No one sent me. I only want the items your husband took from me—a necklace and a cuff,” he told her, making a circular motion around his upper arm that had her leveling her gun at him again. “They weren’t mine. I need to return them to their owner.”

A blur darted from the back room, and it was all Harte could do to keep from falling over from the impact. Sammie. The woman put down the gun immediately and issued an urgent command to the child clinging to Harte’s legs. But the boy argued back, refusing to let go.

“You’re the one who gave yourself up for my son?” the woman said, surprise coloring her expression.

“It was the least I could do. I was the one who put him in danger in the first place,” Harte said, gently pushing the child away from him.

“No,” she said. “That was his father.” The woman’s expression shifted to concern, as though she’d finally taken stock of Harte. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m not,” Harte admitted, swaying a little. “Which is why it’s even more important that I retrieve what I came for. I need to return the pieces, and I don’t know how much time I—”

“They’re gone,” she told him, her expression closed off.

“Gone.” The word came out in a rush, and Harte felt like he’d been sucker punched.

“I’m sorry.” The woman did not seem sorry.

“They can’t be gone.” He’d been having trouble staying upright before, but now the devastation of this information threatened to push him over completely.

“I had to. My husband’s creditors would have taken the house if I hadn’t paid them. It was the only way to save him, to save us from—”

A loud banging erupted on the other side of the door, followed by shouted commands that had the woman’s eyes widening.

“Were you followed?” she demanded in a hushed whisper.

Harte shook his head, but in all honesty, he couldn’t have known.

The woman seemed to sense this. She spoke to the child, who nodded obediently, before she looked back at Harte. “Go with Sammie and remain silent.” Then she tucked the gun into the folds of her gown and shouted something to the people on the other side of the door.

“But—” Harte shook his head. Even as he wobbled on his feet, it seemed wrong to leave her to defend him.

“Go,” she commanded. “You cannot be found here. Do you understand?”

The fear in her eyes told Harte everything he needed to know. He’d put this family in danger once again. This time he didn’t argue when the boy took him by the hand and led him through a doorway to a bedroom. There Sammie pulled back the rug and opened a hatch in the floor to reveal a set of earthen steps leading down into a compartment that looked like a root cellar. There were blankets and pillows piled on the floor, along with a couple of carved wooden toys.

“Have you been staying down there?” Harte asked.

The boy nodded. “My father owed many people many debts, so my mother makes me hide when they come. She’s been afraid for me ever since the Committee’s men brought news that my father had been sent away.”

“He’s gone, then?” Harte asked, trying to keep himself awake.

“On a ship. He won’t be returning,” the boy said.

“Does that make you sad?” Harte asked, wondering if he’d made the wrong decision again.

“It should, but my father…” Sammie paused.

“It’s okay,” he told the boy. “You know it wasn’t your fault?”

But Sammie only frowned, clearly unsure. Then his brows drew together. “It was you, wasn’t it? This was your trick?”