seat. “Do you have the names of the men and women who perpetrated these crimes? And do you have addresses which you can direct me to, and—?”
“Most of the people who know about the crime ring that snatched the lofty lords and ladies are long dead,” Tynan said from behind her. “As I explained to the lady, her efforts are futile.”
She sat back in her chair, staring at her notebook. Faye chewed at her lower lip. “Is there anyone else who might be willing to speak with me? Someone who knows the details of what happened?”
“Man named Oswyn.”
Faye immediately jotted that name down.
“What?” The shock in Tynan’s exclamation brought her gaze back over her shoulder. “But Oswyn is—”
“Dead?” Colb interrupted. “That’s what most think. A bullet to the chest would have killed most men. But Oswyn’s alive.”
Straightening, Tynan abandoned his relaxed posed. “Impossible.”
Faye’s focus swung back and forth between the pair, who appeared to have forgotten she was privy to their exchange.
“Yea. Everyone thought he was dead.” Colb sat back in his chair and crossed his arms at his brawny chest. “But he ain’t.”
“Have you—?”
“Seen ’im? Sure ’ave. With me own eyes. But he’s been forced underground because, you know…” The stocky fellow lifted his shoulders in a shrug.
Tynan’s silence indicated that he did know very well what the other man was speaking about.
“What happened?” Faye put that question to each man.
“Oswyn was well aware of Diggory’s ring. He looked after several of the children. Those children went on to form the Hell and Sin Club.”
“Ryker Black,” she murmured. One of Poppy’s sisters had married the notorious gentleman.
His name was notorious in Polite Society, the victim of a ruthless gang leader who’d snatched children from the peerage and incorporated them into his child army. His story had gotten only a secondary mentioning, barely addressed in but a few scandal sheets and papers. The focus had largely been on the resurrection of lords who’d been lost and the introduction of men and women who’d grown up in the streets and found themselves thrust back into Society. “So Oswyn was a friend of this Diggory fellow?” Faye puzzled aloud, piecing together what had been revealed.
“Nah,” Colb said, reclining in his chair. “Hated the bastard. Oswyn was a friend of Ryker Black, along with Black’s sister, Helena Banbury, a man named Thorne, another man named Dabney.
Only two of the fancy sort among them, but they were just bastards,” he explained, unable to know of Faye’s connection through her sister-in-law, Poppy, whose sister Penelope had married Ryker Black.
Faye quickly cataloged those names in her book. As such, Faye wasn’t a stranger to them, and yet, she’d already attempted to speak to Helena, Duchess of Somerset, at a family affair…but they’d been interrupted. So she’d also sent letters. The lady had politely, if forcefully made it clear she did not wish to speak on the matter of her past with Faye.
“This Oswyn, he would have information that he’d share with me, do you think?”
“He was loyal to them. Would have taken a bullet for any one of them once, but they turned on him.”
Turned on him?
That didn’t fit with what the world knew of that family… and what Faye knew of them.
“But… why?”
“Because he was trying to keep them out of the peerage. Knew they were going to suffer. One put a bullet in his chest. And I know he’d be ’appy to talk because of it.”
Faye processed that revelation. This… had been easier than she’d anticipated. There was someone who’d speak. Someone who wouldn’t be afraid or hesitant because of the powerful connections of the victims and the equally powerful men and women who’d been involved in that evil scheme against those once-children. “Where can I find him?” she asked, energized by all she’d learned.
“17 Chalk Ro—”
“We have to go,” Tynan said curtly, cutting off the remainder of Mr. Colb’s words.
Blinking slowly, Faye glanced down at her notes and the timepiece affixed to her cloak. “But there are more questions I have about—”
“Anything for the Liege of London.” Colb was already climbing to his feet in a tacit indication of just who he took his cues from, and it was decidedly not her. There was some code that existed between Tynan and those he had dealings with. They respected him and deferred to him, and it didn’t matter how much she insisted or pressed, she wasn’t going to get a thing more from Colb—or likely anyone he connected her with—unless Tynan allowed it.
Tamping down