“One for you,” Alex said and turned to shove another slip of paper across the table, “and one for you.” The man who simply called himself O’Brien glanced at the writing and then nodded brusquely, tucking the piece into his well-worn jacket. “Right, guv. I’ll find it.” “I intend to speak with Lady Ashton myself, but I need you to do what I cannot. Talk to the servants. Find out if any of them noticed anything the night Lord Orschell was killed. If it is out of the ordinary I want to hear about it....” O’Brien grinned, showing a gap-toothed mouth in his wide, bewhiskered face. A hulking specimen who towered over Alex by inches and outweighed him considerably, he wasn’t quite what Alex had pictured when he thought of an operative. The idea of O’Brien skulking casually in the shadows and going unnoticed stretched the imagination a little thin. The Irishman said, “Sir, when you see my report, you’ll even know when each of them fancy togs used the privy.” Alex fought a wry smile.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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