Page 109 of Murder on Black Swan Lane

He ducked his head in contrition. “I know I shudda told you, but Mr. Sloane was acting so spooked. I-I didn’t think it were right to tattle on him. Then, after he died, I didn’t want te upset you. It just seemed better te let the dead rest.”

“It’s all right,” assured Charlotte. “I understand.”

Raven didn’t appear reassured. “I’m sorry.”

“You made the right choice, lad,” said Wrexford softly. “You did no harm in keeping things to yourself at the time. But it’s very important you tell us everything you remember about the place now.”

“It may help rescue Hawk,” added Charlotte.

The boy’s eyes widened, betraying both hope and dread. “You think the scurvy bastard who nabbed Hawk is holding him there?”

“There is a good chance of it,” said the earl. “Think very carefully, Weasel. Can you tell me exactly where I can find the building?”

“We,” she corrected. “Wherewecan find the building.”

“Right,we.” Raven sat up a little straighter. “Ain’t no way I’m gonna be left behind.”

“Don’t sayain’t,” murmured Charlotte, even though grammar was the least of her worries.

Raven played deaf to her chiding. “I can lead you straight there blindfolded, sir. I know the stews better’n the back of my own hand.”

Charlotte did not care to speculate on what substance had left the greasy smear on his upturned knuckles. “You need to stay here and rest.”

A string of oaths followed.

“Let the lad come,” said Wrexford.

Sighing, Charlotte surrendered without further argument. Short of locking Raven in Newgate Prison, she knew there was no way to keep him from the fray.

The boy began to stammer his thanks, but the earl silenced him with a brusque wave. “Stubble the sentimental claptrap, Weasel. We need to draw up a plan of attack.”

He shot her a look that promised she wasn’t going to like what was coming next. “It’s clear that Lowell has spies everywhere, so we are going to have to be very careful in how we make a preliminary reconnaissance of the area around the warehouse. I think there’s only one course of action that has a chance of going undetected.”

She uttered one of Raven’s highly unladylike oaths under her breath.

If Wrexford heard her, he pretended not to. “Can you muster a band of your fellow street urchins, lad? You must choose only those who are clever and resourceful. Hawk’s life may depend on it.”

Raven’s thin face screwed in thought. “Skinny, One-Eyed Harry, and Alice the Eel Girl,” he said slowly. “And Pudge and Sally Roundheels. They won’t let us down.”

“Good,” replied the earl. “We need to gather them as quickly as possible. But don’t have them come here,” said Wrexford. “Pick an out-of-the-way spot where they are well hidden from the street.”

The boy nodded in understanding. “Skinny will help.”

“Then let us go find him.” Wrexford rose and turned to her as Raven scrambled out of bed and hurried down the stairs to find his shirt and jacket. “I know you don’t approve. But guttersnipes have sharp eyes and draw little attention. And for us, the element of surprise is crucial. Lowell cannot have any inkling that we are coming.” He didn’t have to explain why.

It would have been hypocritical to argue. Children were a key part of her own information-gathering network. They were far more observant than people thought.

He took her silence for the pragmatism it was. “The urchins will be able to spot whether Lowell has any sentinels posted,” he explained. “They’ll also be able to give us an accurate description of all the building’s windows and doors. That Raven has seen the interior is an important advantage.”

“Raven,” she repeated. “You actually know his name.”

“A lucky guess,” he murmured. “The choice of scavengers is limited.”

And the ways to mask emotions were infinite, as she well knew.

“For God’s sake, he’s just a boy. He’s not as tough as he appears. You should try to be more . . .” Charlotte fumbled for the right word and then quickly gave up. “You should try to be more sensitive to his fears and longings.”

Wrexford responded with a cold shrug. “We can all stand around wringing our hands and sniveling with sentiment, or we can try to save his brother. Which would you prefer, Mrs. Sloane? We can’t do both.”