I know nothing."
With a sudden move, Ezra leaned over Miss Munro. "You know, don't you? You know where the partisans are, and you're going to tell me."
Her eyes widened, surprised by his abrupt change of strategy. "I don't know."
"Did you think I wouldn't find out what you did to the supplies?" His voice rose in anger. "You think it was clever to sabotage my career? You're messing with the wrong man, bitch."
Her face paled.
Ezra straightened, still glowering at Miss Munro. "You will tell me the location of the partisans." He withdrew his flintlock and pointed it at Mrs. Thomas's head. "Or I shoot."
A series of gasps circled the room. The little girl squealed and dove into her mother's lap. The young boy jumped in his seat. Agatha's hands slipped on the harpsichord keys, producing a jarring noise. Miss Munro's eyes filled with tears. She gave Mrs. Thomas a beseeching look, begging for guidance.
Ezra watched the drama unfold. Hell, this was better than the theater in Charles Town, and the fact that he was the director of this scene gave him a satisfying sense of power. Live puppets, that was all they were, and he alone could pull the strings.
Miss Munro opened her mouth to speak, then closed it with a pained grimace. Indecision. Ezra's pulse accelerated. The wench might actually know something.
"No!" The boy, Edward, leapt to his feet. "Leave them alone! They don't know anything. 'Tis the ghost you want."
"Edward, please." His mother tugged at the boy's coat.
"A ghost, you say?" Ezra couldn't help but be amused. His little play even had comedic overtones.
"Yes." Edward sat. "He can go through walls."
Ezra smiled and turned his attention back to Miss Munro. He paused, his smile fading. The fear in her eyes had not diminished with the boy's outburst, but increased.
"Miss Munro," he whispered. "Do you have something to tell me?"
She glanced at Mrs. Thomas as if asking permission to talk.
The older woman shook her head and whispered, "No."
"So you are willing to die for your son, Mrs. Thomas?" Ezra stepped toward her, gratified to see a tear roll down her cheek. He paused with the flintlock aimed between her eyes. Just a few more seconds of terror was all he wanted.
"Since you desire death, you shall have it." He returned his flintlock to his belt. "You're under arrest for harboring a traitor to the crown."
"Pugsley." He swiveled to the foot soldier. "You will escort Mrs. Thomas to her bedchamber and lock her in. You will nail boards across her balcony door so she cannot escape. She will receive only a crust of bread each day and enough water to keep her alive."
Ezra turned back to Mrs. Thomas. Good. The tears were streaming now, her chin trembling. "I will have handbills printed and distributed that spread the news. If Matthias Murray Thomas wishes to save his mother from a slow death by starvation, he will turn himself in."
Mrs. Thomas whispered, "I would rather die."
Anger surged through Ezra once again. These damned women would not get the better of him. "Then you are fortunate, madam, for you may have your wish!"
Chapter Twenty-Six
Matthias inserted an arrow into the crossbow and pulled back the lever. The gear shifted with a metallic click. A little too loud, but it was still quicker than loading a musket. He aimed and pulled the trigger. The arrow sped through the air with a whoosh, then quivered from its impact in an oak tree.
"Not bad." Jacob approached from the slaves' quarters.
Shielding his eyes from the afternoon glare, Matthias spotted the slaves in the distance, covering their roofs with a layer of hot tar. "That stuff must stink for miles."
"Aye, but it will keep the rain out."
Matthias wandered toward the oak tree. "And the barrels of gunpowder?" His barrel of stolen gunpowder had been divided into four smaller barrels. He'd wanted each barrel coated in tar to make them waterproof, but since the smell might be noticed by the redcoats, Jacob had disguised their activity by having the slaves treat their homes.
"Ready to go." Jacob motioned to the arrow as Matthias yanked it free. "At least you're hitting the tree now."
With a snort, Matthias pointed to the side. "I was aiming at the bottle."
Jacob winced.
Matthias paced back. "This new plan is more dangerous than the last one. We may have to kill some redcoats. If you'd rather not participate, I'll understand."
Jacob stiffened with his jaw firmly set. "I am taking part. They killed our father."
Not knowing what to say, Matthias