"You're still warm from that last gallop. How do you like being a highwayman's nag?
Lots of excitement in the job, I imagine."
Gabriel gave the animal's neck a last pat and then made his way back out of the barn. As he walked
toward the rear door of the cottage, he removed the pistol from the pocket of his coat.
He was mildly surprised to find the door unbarred. The highwayman had evidently been in a hurry when
he had returned from his business on the road. Gabriel opened the door and stepped into the kitchen.
Mrs. Stiles was at the sink. She whirled around in shock at the sound of the door. Her eyes widened in
recognition and then her mouth opened on a scream.
"Hush. Not a word, if you please, Mrs. Stiles." Gabriel did not bother to point the pistol at her. He held
it quietly at his side. "I merely wish a few words with your master. You needn't bother with tea. I will not
be staying long."
Mrs. Stiles's lips snapped shut. "I knew no good would come of this mad scheme. Told him so meself."
"Yes. Well, now I am going to tell him the same thing. We shall see if my advice makes a more lasting
impression."
Mrs. Stiles gave him a beseeching look. "Ye won't have the master arrested, will ye? He only did it on
account of he needs the money and he cannot bear to part with those books of his. If they send him to
prison, I don't know what I'll do. Work is hard to come by in these parts. Mr. Nash don't always pay me
my wages, but there's plenty to eat and he lets me take some home to me family."
"Do not concern yourself, Mrs. Stiles. I have no intention of putting you out of work. Is Nash still in the
parlor?"
"Yes, sir." Mrs. Stiles's hands twisted in the folds of her apron. "Are you certain you don't plan to have
him arrested?"
"Reasonably certain. I understand Mr. Nash's dilemma and I sympathize. Still, I cannot allow him to get
away with his little scheme in this instance. The lady was most upset."
Mrs. Stiles sighed. "I cannot see why the lot of ye bookish types set so much store by them old
manuscripts and such. Nothin' but useless trash, if ye ask me. Waste of time readin' and collectin' them
dirty things."
"The desire to collect old books is difficult to explain," Gabriel admitted. "I suspect it is an affliction of
sorts."
"Too bad there ain't a remedy."
"Perhaps. On the other hand, it is not an unpleasant ailment."
Convinced that the housekeeper was going to stay out of the matter, Gabriel nodded politely to her and
made his way down the hall. The door of the parlor was closed, but he could hear loud voices from
inside the room. The first voice was that of an irate young man.
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"Damnation, Pa, I did it just like we planned it. Just like we did it the last time. How was I to know she'd
have that big cove with her? What does it matter, anyhow? He didn't give me any trouble."
"Ye should've backed off when ye saw there was a gentleman with her," Nash growled back in
response.
"I told ye, he didn't even put up a fight." There was a snort of derision. "Handed the damn box over as
nice as ye please. It was the lady I was worryin' about. I swear, if she'd had a pistol, I'd have been done
for. Stop frettin', Pa. We got the manuscript and the money the lady paid for it."
"I cannot help but fret," Nash retorted. "I did not like the looks of that gentleman who accompanied the
lady. Something about him made me uneasy. Strange eyes. Green as emeralds, they were. And just as
cold. Had a dangerous look to 'em. Never saw a man with eyes like that."
"Calm yourself, Pa. I told ye, he wasn't a problem."
Gabriel opened the door quietly. Nash was seated at his desk, his head in his hands. A thickset young
man with heavy features was striding angrily back and forth across the small space left between aisles of
books. A dashing black cape lay across a chair.
"I fear I am going to be something of a problem, after all," Gabriel
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