“He mentioned her aid, but her travelling with the Marquis appeared—” Lancelot stopped, seeing the warning light in Avers’ eyes. “I understand your concern over the woman, but our main focus is—”

“My main focus is her safety. She’s an innocent caught up in this mess and thanks to our bungling she’s at risk of… of…”

Avers didn’t want to say out loud what he feared. Somehow, it felt as though, if he said it, the worst may come to pass. Dartois might take advantage of Mademoiselle Cadeaux. He might even kill her.

Avers squashed down the fears and concentrated on the hope brought by his revelation about the water bearers. “There’s something I need to tell you, Wakeford.”

“Innocent?” Lancelot interjected, brow furrowing. “Isn’t she a—”

“Don’t!” said Wakeford quickly. “The man’s in love with her.”

Surprise took over Lancelot’s expression and any words he had intended to say were stalled.

Avers, too, was rendered speechless at this blunt statement. He hadn’t admitted that fact yet—even to himself.

After taking a moment to master his feelings, he broke the silence, speaking slowly and deliberately. “I’ve come to tell you that I may have surmised how the Comte and Marquis were able to evade your Cabinet Noir, Wakeford.”

“We were intercepting all the Comte’s letters in Paris,” Wakeford explained for Lancelot’s sake. “But we found no proof of his illicit activities and assume he must have had another way of passing information.” Wakeford turned back to Avers. “Well?”

“Water bearers.”

Wakeford echoed his words, eyes narrowing to work out what it meant.

“Don’t you see? Paris relies on them and they aren’t permanent members of staff within a household. They pass all over the city unnoticed, even into your offices Wakeford. You wouldn’t have questioned them like you did your staff because they wouldn’t have been there at the time.”

“The buckets—” said Lancelot, catching on to Avers’ theory, “—we’ve come across similar before with the smugglers in Sussex and the West Country. They build secret compartments into the barrels or lids to hide contraband. It would be an easy way to steal papers and pass messages undetected.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Avers, heartbeat quickening as the puzzle pieces came together.

Lancelot nodded, rubbing his chin as he thought. “If they were using it in Paris it’s a good bet that he’ll continue to use that method here, even with the piped water to the consul’s residence. We should alert the watch we’ve set on the Marquis’ movements to keep an eye out for water bearers.”

“Agreed.” Wakeford snatched up a quill from the ink stand, dipped it, and began scrawling a note.

“Tell your men, if they intercept one of them, to check the lid. It’ll likely be hollow to store letters.”

Wakeford added Lancelot’s suggestion to the note, folded it, attached a wafer and rang the bell. Avers moved aside as another of Wakeford’s men opened the office door. His friend handed over the note with instructions for it to be delivered to the men watching the Marquis. Once the man had gone, Wakeford addressed the room.

“Now we wait.”

It was two days before the theory was proven.

Impatient for an update, Avers returned uninvited to Wakeford’s office early on the morning of the second day.

“Come.” Wakeford’s voice emanated through the closed door.

Avers entered. “Any news?” he said without ceremony, closing the door behind him.

Both Wakeford and Lancelot were standing over the former’s desk and staring at a letter laid out on it.

Wakeford looked up, seeming not to have heard Avers’ question. “Did my note already reach you?” he said, brows raised.

“Note? No—I’ve come for news.”

Wakeford pointed at the letter on the table and Avers came to stand shoulder to shoulder with the two men to see what so fascinated them.

The unfolded paper contained lines of script—unsurprisingly—but instead of communicating knowledge they appeared to be written in gibberish.

“A cypher,” Lancelot explained.

“From the Marquis?”

Wakeford and Lancelot nodded in unison.

“It’s already been copied out and sent to Lancelot’s codebreakers,” said Wakeford, grinning at the turning tide of their situation. “We’re waiting on them to break it.”

“How long will that take?”

It had been two days already. Two days in which anything could have happened to Mademoiselle Cadeaux. Avers had walked past the consul’s residence multiple times in those two days, at a discreet distance, in the hope he might ascertain how she fared, but he had seen no sign of her.

Lancelot shrugged, though his expression remained serious. “It depends. If it’s simple it could only be hours. If it’s more sophisticated maybe days.”

Days? Mademoiselle Cadeaux might not have days.

“We’re hoping that whatever the letter says, it’ll not only incriminate the Comte and Dartois, but also shed light on who they’re using as their go-between here in London for the sale of the papers. They must have come here because they have contacts and that’s Lancelot’s department.”

Avers reined back his rising frustration. These men were entirely focused on the Comte and Dartois and the innocent woman caught up in all this was being forgotten.

“We might not have days,” he said.

Wakeford’s grin slipped. “I know this is not ideal with Mademoiselle Cadeaux still under the Marquis’ protection—”

“Protection?” Avers scoffed, failing to stop himself. “We have to ensure her safety.” His entire body was framed by the tension he felt.

“We’re doing all we can,” Wakeford said, trying to sooth his friend’s frayed nerves. “As soon as we have something we’ll take action.”

Avers’ shoulders dropped a little. They all knew what was at stake. For Wakeford and Lancelot it was the papers. For Avers it was… the love of his life.

“This is my department now,” said Lancelot. “We know what we’re doing, and we’ll take what you’ve said into account.”

The man’s words were less than comforting, but there was nothing more to be said. It was all hypothetical until that cypher was cracked.

It was under fourteen hours later that Avers was recalled to Wakeford’s office. Lancelot’s men had broken the code. The contents revealed a proposed meeting at St Saviour’s docks for the papers to be exchanged for a pre-agreed sum.

An hour later, Wakeford, Lancelot and their men were at the docks waiting to catch their man. And Avers—much to Lancelot’s chagrin—was there to save Emilie.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT