Del nodded solemnly. “I see.”

“I didn’t want to be working for him,” Sangay replied, equally solemn.

“We know that, Sangay,” Deliah said. “He told you that he’d hurt your mother if you didn’t bring him the colonel’s scroll-holder. Is that right?”

Sangay, all round eyes, nodded. “Yes, miss. That is it exactly.”

“Where were you when the evil-sahib found you?” she asked.

“I was in London, at the East India Docks. My captain-I was on a ship from India, you understand. First cabin boy, I was, until…” Sangay blinked. “My captain sent me to fetch him some tobacco from the shop near the docks. The evil-sahib saw me. He took hold of me and dragged me aside, into an alley. He told me his men had my maataa and she would die a terrible death if I didn’t do what he wanted.”

Eyes like bruised brown pansies, Sangay shrugged. “So I had to go with him, and he took me in a coach to some other town with ships-then he sent me into the inn where you were staying to find the scroll-holder.” Sangay paused, then went on, “Then there was the pistol shot, and then there was the panic, and because I had to search the luggage Cobby put in the carriage, I went with it.” He looked up at Deliah, then Del. “With you.”

Sangay studied Del’s face, then swallowed. In a small voice, he asked, “If I tell you all I know of the evil-sahib, will you let me go, and let me give to the sahib this scroll-holder so he will not kill my maataa?” He shifted, looked down, straightened the sleeve of the page’s coat he wore. “I know you don’t think he will be able to do that last, but how can you be sure? And”-dragging in a deep breath, Sangay looked up again, into Del’s face-“you see, I must be sure.”

Del looked down into the boy’s big eyes, read the tortured uncertainty that held him. Crouching down so his eyes were level with Sangay’s, he said, “We’re going to find a way to keep you safe, and also to ensure-make absolutely sure-that your maataa is safe, too. I don’t know at this stage exactly how we’ll do it, but we’ll make a good plan, and we’ll make sure.” Del searched Sangay’s dark eyes, then added, “I’m thinking that killing the evil-sahib would be a good first step. What do you think?”

Sangay’s eyes fired, finally came alive with a hint of the vitality that should be in any boy’s eyes. “Oh, yes, sahib. That sounds an excellent plan. That one-the evil-sahib-is definitely by way of needing killing.”

“Good. Then that’s what we’ll do.” Rising, Del looked at Deliah, then glanced down at Sangay. “So now we need to go downstairs and talk to the duke and his cousins and all the others, and together we’ll work out a good plan.”

Sangay actually smiled.

“Well, then.” Deliah looked at Del. “I think it’s time we told the others they can all stop searching.”


Everyone reassembled in the library, including Sligo and Cobby.

“It might help to have the rest of our staffs in, too,” Deliah suggested to Del. “Not the girls, but the others. They’ll need to understand.”

Del nodded, looked at Cobby.

Cobby saluted. “I’ll fetch them.”

As they resettled on the sofas, chaises and armchairs, two footmen briskly restoked the fire into a roaring blaze while maids bustled about, drawing the curtains. Then Mrs. Hull arrived, supervising a trolley laden with teacups, saucers, and plates piled with biscuits and pieces of cake-and a glass of milk for Sangay. Seated on a straightbacked chair beside Devil’s desk, he accepted it gratefully.

The rest of them accepted cups of tea from Honoria, and made their selections from the cakes and biscuits.

From her position on one chaise, Deliah noticed that Sangay’s feet didn’t even reach the floor, and that he sat with his knees pressed tight, head ducked, as if to quell knocking knees and make himself invisible. She hesitated, then leaned forward, picked up one of Mrs. Hull’s justifiably famous jam tarts, rose, and went to give it to Sangay.

He looked up at her, surprised, but then took it with a murmured word of thanks.

The tart was gone, every last crumb, before Deliah re sumed her seat. She thought it likely Sangay hadn’t eaten at all that day.

Then Cobby arrived, ushering in her senior staff and Del’s. Both Matara and Amaya stopped by Sangay’s chair. Straining her ears, Deliah heard them telling him to be a good boy and answer the sahibs’ questions directly-by which they meant truthfully-and all would be well.

As Deliah had suspected, Sangay was comforted by the other servants’ presence. Still…he remained very much alone on his chair by the desk.

Surrendering to impulse, she rose, set down her teacup and crossed to where another straightbacked chair stood against the wall. She started to lift it. Vane came to help. She directed him to set it next to Sangay’s chair.

Once he had, she thanked him with a smile, and sat, then reached out and patted Sangay’s thin hand. “All you have to do is what Matara and Amaya told you. Just answer the questions, and everything will be all right.”

Sangay met her eyes for a moment, then bobbed his head.

Devil chose that moment to call the gathering to order. “Now we’ve found our missing young man, let’s hear what he has to say.” He smiled at Sangay, perfectly innocuously, but Sangay no longer trusted the smiles of powerful men, and there was nothing wrong with his instincts. Deliah sensed the tension holding him increase.

But then Del came around the front of Devil’s desk. He relaxed against it and smiled at Sangay.

Sangay looked back. He didn’t smile, but his tension eased.

“Sangay, we need to tell these people where you came from, and all that you know of the evil-sahib, the man who bullied you into stealing the scroll-holder.” Del paused, then asked, “Incidentally, where is it?”

“In one of the bins in the big storeroom near to the back door, sahib. The bin nearest the back of the room.” Sangay started to slide off the chair, but Del waved at him to stay and looked at Sligo and Cobby instead.

“That’s the pantry,” Sligo said.

“I’ll fetch it.” Cobby headed for the door.

Del turned back to Sangay. “Meanwhile-”

With a series of simple questions, Del led Sangay through his story. He didn’t rush, didn’t let the ladies’ sympathetic murmurs and outraged exclamations distract him or the boy. Sangay’s answers came haltingly at first, but with each point he relaxed and grew more confident, until, when Del asked for a description of Sangay’s evil-sahib, an excellent word picture tripped off the boy’s tongue.

Del glanced at Devil, seated silently behind the desk. “Larkins.”

Devil frowned. “Why so sure?”

“The deeply tanned skin plus the close-cropped hair-not many Englishmen would fit that description.”

Devil conceded that with a nod.

Turning back to Sangay, Del saw the question in the boy’s face. “I think the evil-sahib’s name is Larkins.”

Sangay nodded solemnly, and they continued with their questions and answers.

When it came to the man’s instructions, and the place where Sangay was to meet him to hand over the scroll-holder, Devil and Demon, the two locals, were unequivocal in their interpretation.

“The big church with the big tower to the northwest can only be Ely Cathedral,” Devil said. “And Larkins was wise to warn Sangay not to attempt to get there across country but to stick to the roads. The fenland between here and there is treacherous.”

“So,” Del said, his gaze on Devil’s face, “Larkins definitely wouldn’t expect Sangay to arrive at the church until after the snow melts-at least enough to make travel by road possible?”

Both Devil and Demon nodded. “Clearly he knows,” Devil said, “that there’s no chance Sangay can make it to the church before at least the day after tomorrow.”

Del hid a smile. “Just so.” The little play had been for San gay’s benefit. He looked at the boy. “So we have time to make a very good plan.”

Sangay said nothing. He shifted, bit his lip. Looked down.

Deliah glanced at him, then looked up at Del.

Del crouched so his head was level with the boy’s. “Sangay?”

Sangay lifted his gaze only briefly to Del’s face. He spoke in a bare whisper. “I’m afraid, sahib-not for me, but for my maataa. What if the evil-sahib gets angry because I don’t come, and then he might think I have failed, and been caught, and so…”

Del welcomed the reassuring noises the ladies made; they seemed to soothe Sangay.

“Listen to me, Sangay. The evil-sahib is a servant for a much more evil man, but that much more evil man is here, in England, so he can’t give any orders to make anything happen to your maataa. Just think-as neither the evil-sahib nor his master knew it was you they were going to pick to be their thief, they can’t have already seized your maataa. You know how long it takes to get letters back to India-you’ve sailed back and forth many times yourself, haven’t you?”

Sangay nodded, but his eyes remained filled with uncertainty. If there was one thing Del was sure of, it was that they-his mission-would need Sangay as a part of any “very good plan,” so he persevered. “The master of the evil-sahib won’t have sent any word back to India yet-there’s been no need, because you’ve been doing what the evil-sahib wanted. And all those here”-he gestured to those around them-“and lots of others who are helping with this mission, are going to make sure that the evil-sahib’s master is too busy to worry about sending any message, no matter what happens with you.”

Del could see from Sangay’s dark eyes-feel from the intensity of Deliah’s regard-that he hadn’t yet succeeded in allaying all fear. “And Sangay-regardless of what happens, I’ll make sure your maataa is safe. I’m a colonel, you know that?” When Sangay nodded, Del continued, “So, being a colonel, I can send a message back to India, to the Governor-General, who is the man I’m working for, and ask him to make sure that your maataa is safe.” He looked into Sangay’s eyes. “All right?”