10. Teaching a Lesson

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"I don't wish to complain, My Lord, Mister Irving, but..." The coachman yawned. "Are you sure you want to take a ride in the park at this time of night? I mean...it's nearly midnight! Wouldn't you rather be in bed?"

"Codswallop, Everstone!" Titus rebutted with a cheery grin that looked as if he'd just climbed out of bed. Which, taking his usual habits into account, might very well be the case. "After all, as Milton said, What hath night to do with sleep?"

"Quite a lot, I would imagine," Lord Patrick remarked drily.

"What! You dare disagree with our national poet? Die, traitor! Die! But only after you take me to a pub for a drink."

"You are aware that this is supposed to be a covert operation, aren't you?"

"Sure!" Titus nodded energetically. "That's why I brought this!" And he pulled a postcard out of his pocket depicting an idyllic little cove on the Cornish coastline. He flipped the card, and on the back of it was written "rt".

"See?" He grinned. "Cove. Rt. I came prepared."

"Titus?"

"Yes?"

"Remind me again why I have a feckless idiot for a best friend?"

"Because life would be boring without me!" Titus clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I may be a feckless idiot, but nobody knows more shady characters than I. You'll have plenty of people to choose from for implementing your little plan. I'm sure there will be at least one who has the right contacts and can tell you what you need to know."

"I certainly hope so," Lord Patrick muttered as the coach rolled into the park. It was so pitch-black outside, neither of them noticed the cloaked figure slipping through the trees into the park beside them. Green eyes flashed in the darkness.

"Let's get to the meeting place, shall we?"

"Yes, let's." His Lordship's eyes focused on the towering shape of the oak ahead, silhouetted against the moonlight. "Everstone, go ahead."

"Aye, My Lord."

The coach rolled ahead. As it stopped in the shadow of the great oak, Lord Patrick glanced out of the window and could see the first few shadowy figures come out from between the bushes. Apparently, Titus had indeed been able to assemble various...individuals.

"Titus...forgive me for saying so, but these fellows don't look particularly trustworthy."

"Patrick, you wanted people who are at home in the East End." Titus gave him a look.

"Let me guess...these people don't have the word 'trustworthy' in their dictionaries?"

"No. They don't have dictionaries."

"Oh."

"Except maybe old ones, to use as toilet paper."

"Ah."

"Cheer up, friend!" Grinning, Titus clapped him on the back. "This will be a novel experience for you."

A sudden blast of wind whistled through the clearing. Cloaks were lifted up, and on several of the surrounding figures, Lord Patrick saw sharp blades glistening in the moonlight.

"Of that," he muttered, "I have no doubt."

"Excellent! Well, now that I've fulfilled my part, I should probably leave. There's a nice inn with very friendly waitresses around here that is open all through the night, and I—"

His Lordship's hand closed in around Titus's wrist like a manacle, holding him in place.

"Everstone?"

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