Page 79 of In Want of a Suspect

“Because of the lift.”

“Come again?” Marianne asked.

“A lift,” Elinor repeated. “They’re like dumbwaiters, but large enough for people or goods. You see, you place boxes of cargo within it, and then you pull on the ropes—they’re attached to pulleys somewhere above, I imagine—and then the whole thing lifts itself. I’ve never seen one in person, actually. I think the wall that used to be here concealed it from view from the rest of the storehouse.”

Suddenly, Lizzie remembered what Henry had said—he climbed the tree and saw through the windows. If they’d been moving illicit goods, they wouldn’t be foolish enough to leave the shutters open on the first floor. But if Henry was in the tree,and they left an upstairs shutter open... “Of course,” she muttered. “They’re moving their illicit goods upstairs. They must have been using this lift to bring them up.”

“Heavy goods,” Marianne noted.

“Does it look like it was damaged in the fire?” Lizzie asked. The tremendous crash—what if that had been the contraption falling, and not some explosion caused by graphite?

Elinor stepped closer, holding her candle aloft. “Likely. All the wood has been replaced or repaired. You see, the ropes here are connected to that support, which looks new. And this over here...”

Marianne’s and Lizzie’s eyes met while Elinor continued speaking about lifts and inventions, and in unison their gazes shifted upward. “We need to get upstairs,” Marianne said.

Lizzie and Marianne went searching for the stairs in opposite directions, Elinor scrambling after them. Lizzie would have settled for even a ladder, but Marianne and Elinor found an open doorway leading to a staircase, tucked away in shadows near the office area. “Lizzie!” Marianne called out, just a touch too loud. Lizzie turned and was about to join the Dashwoods when the unmistakable sound of a door swinging open stilled her.

Acting instinctively, all three ladies immediately blew out their candles. Lizzie ducked behind the cabinet in the office area, and looked to Marianne and Elinor, whom she could just make out, thanks to the light shed by the newcomers. She waved at them to go, for there was no way for her to make her way tothem without walking across an exposed swath of the storehouse floor. Marianne hesitated for a moment, but then the sound of approaching footsteps convinced her. She and Elinor stepped into the stairwell and closed the door.

Lizzie had no time to feel relief. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her position was far too exposed for comfort. Peering around the cabinet, she saw the figures of three men approaching, carrying heavy lanterns. One was Jack Mullins, and one, she thought, was Parry. But she couldn’t get a good look at the third man’s face.

“I want it all out, tonight,” Jack was saying. “And then consider us closed for business.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” came the stranger’s voice. “You can’t simply decide enough is enough.”

“I didn’t decide anything, if you’ll recall!”

Lizzie felt a cold fear wash over her—not because the men were drawing closer but because Jack soundedscared.

“You, your brother, doesn’t matter. You’re indebted now.”

“I’m in debt all right! No thanks to you!”

“I wasn’t the one who torched the place! But you’ll have far bigger worries if you displease her yet again.”

Her? Was he referring to the lady that Jack claimed set fire to the building?

As much as Lizzie would have loved to sit and puzzle out the mystery, they were getting far too close for comfort. She began to edge her way around the side of the cabinet that was still cast in shadow—and just in time, too. The trio of men stopped merepaces away from where Lizzie had first hid, the stranger so close to Lizzie’s last hiding spot that she might have been able to reach out and touch his coat if she’d still been there.

“I’ll turn you over to the Crown!” Jack said suddenly. There was a small waver in his voice. “Unless you let me walk away, I’ll do it!”

The strange man laughed. It was the low, delighted laugh of a man who found amusement in Jack’s panic, and it chilled Lizzie. “No, I don’t think you will. If you do, that hole you’ve dug yourself will become your grave.”

Something about that turn of phrase sent a shiver down Lizzie’s spine. It wasn’t just the dark imagery, though. She’d heard someone say that before.

“I’ll expose your operation,” Jack said, though he sounded less certain. “Goods are one thing, but I never signed up for—”

“Shut up!”

Lizzie’s blood ran cold.

“What’s that smell?” the stranger asked.

“Well, I don’t know if ya noticed, but we had a wee fire last week,” Parry said sarcastically.

“No, I don’t smell old smoke. It’s as if... someone just blew out a candle.”

Lizzie let out the softest exhale, her only outward sign of panic.