the workers stopped in mid-stride and turned towards the two. Silence fell over the hall, as more and more pairs of eyes fixed on them. Waves of silence spread out in the pond of the hall from the pebble that had been Mr Ambrose’s name.
It seemed to dawn on the captain that he had made a very serious mistake. The last remnants of colour drained from his face.
Dalgliesh took a step toward his subordinate.
‘What,’ he said very kindly and slowly, in the manner of a patient headmaster talking to a disobedient child, ‘did I tell you about mentioning the name of this man in my presence, Captain?’
The captain’s mouth opened and closed. No words came out.
‘Do I need to remind you again of the consequences if this should occur again, Captain?’
‘N-no, My Lord! I remember perfectly, My Lord!’
‘Excellent.’ Dalgliesh turned again, and continued on his way. At a flick of his hand, the labourers whirled around and started to work again, twice as fast as before. ‘Kindly have the file brought aboard and stored in the safe, Captain. Make sure it is in a watertight pouch.’
‘As you wish, My Lord.’
The voices receded as the two men walked down the hall. I sank to my knees, so I was completely hidden by the crates, and leaned towards Mr Ambrose, who had assumed the same pose.
‘What did he mean “have the file brought aboard”?’ I whispered. ‘Aboard what?’
‘Don’t you remember?’ he asked, his eyes looking into the distance. ‘The entrance to that tunnel down in the hall… It must lead to the docks. That must be how he gets things on ships he doesn't want the government to know about. Intriguing.’
‘But not in any way helpful,’ I pointed out.
‘On the contrary, Mr Linton.’ There was a cold gleam in his eyes. ‘Think about it. They are going to bring the file aboard the ship. Its current location is probably a separate, heavily guarded room. Even people dressed up as soldiers, as we are, would not be let in without a very good reason. But on the ship, things are different. People of all sorts hurry about, loading the vessel, checking security, carrying messages - it will be the ideal environment for us to retrieve the file. We will wait until it has been put aboard, then we will pretend to be part of the ship’s military escort and go through the tunnel. Having acquired the file, we will not return here, but simply leave the ship at the docks, and, discarding our disguise, make our way back to the carriage.’
‘What a brilliant plan, Sir. Of course, it all depends on whether this tunnel down in the hall actually leads to the docks, which at present is pure speculation.’
Mr Ambrose gave me a cool look. ‘I would rather refer to it as a hypothesis based on circumstantial evidence, Mr Linton.’
‘Would you indeed, Sir? And, assuming the tunnel really does lead to the docks, we will, of course, also have to worm our way through countless layers of guards and soldiers, and manage not to get caught and shot in the process.’
‘Naturally, Mr Linton.’
The coolness in his gaze intensified. He regarded me like a not particularly interesting bug under a microscope. I knew very well what he was thinking. He was thinking I was afraid.
Well… he was right about that. But he didn’t need to know that.
‘All right.’ Taking a deep breath, I stood up again and placed the blue hat on my head. It didn’t seem quite so ridiculous to me anymore. It and the rest of the uniform were all that stood between me and a fate I didn’t want to imagine. ‘Let’s go.’
For a single moment, Mr Ambrose looked almost - almost! - taken aback. Then he swiftly rose, too, and re-hatted himself. He was looking at me out of slightly narrowed, immeasurably dark eyes.
‘You are really going to come with me?’
‘Naturally.’ Those eyes… I could drown in them and never even want to breathe again.
‘But you just told me how dangerous it is.’
‘Well…’ I did my best to conjure up a brave smile. It wasn’t easy while he was looking at me like this. My knees felt as if they wanted to give way any minute. ‘They say fortune favours the brave, don’t they?’
‘Yes!’ Mr Ambrose growled. ‘And they are stupid. In my experience, fortune favours the powerful and ruthless.’
‘Well, we should be all right, then, shouldn’t we?’ I grinned up at him. ‘After all, you’ve got me on your