“Don’t forget Creasey’s squatting in his lair not a block away,” Brewster told me. “I’ll see ye inside, then do my asking.”
“His men attacked you, remember,” I told him. “Take care.”
“I know how to, guv.” Brewster tramped directly behind us and did not turn away until we’d opened the great wooden doors of the Custom House and stepped inside.
Noise flowed down as we climbed a flight of stairs to take us above the ground-floor warehouses. The din grew as we reached the long room at the top, where the cacophony was deafening.
A hundred or so men thronged the huge space, lit by a row of arched windows that looked out to the Thames. A counter lined each long wall, behind which a row of men faced the crowd. They were the customs clerks, with their ledgers, quills, and blank countenances, explaining to those who leaned on the counters before them how much they owed.
The shippers speaking to the clerks hunched in bored resignation, growling or sighing as they produced coins or signed documents to prove they had paid the duty on their goods. Those awaiting their turns milled through the hall, shouting to one another, laughing, haranguing.
“Which is yours?” I called over the noise to Eden, indicating the line of counters.
“None here. I’m to go to a private office, yonder.” He pointed down the long room to a door under a giant octagonal clock.
“We’ve done battle with Marshall Soult’s best forces,” I said. “Surely we can reach the other side of this fray.”
Eden laughed and led the way through the throng.
The hats the multitude wore were many and varied I noted as we passed, from the tricorns of naval officers, to the tall hats of gentlemen, short-crowned ones of men of the City, and even turbans from those who had made the long voyage from India. All of humanity must past through this hall, I reflected, as anyone who brought goods into London had to stop and pay the excise.
I also reflected that this would be an excellent place for someone like Creasey to stage an ambush. So many men—and a few ladies as well—swarmed the room that a hand could push a knife into someone’s back and vanish before the victim even knew he was dead.
With that in mind, I skimmed sideways past rough-looking men and made as much haste as I could after Eden.
We at last reached the far doorway without mishap. Eden pushed it open to reveal a hall with a staircase.
“I say,” Eden called to a passing clerk in black who was rushing down the stairs. “Can you direct me to Mr. Seabrook?”
The clerk’s scowl, which he’d assumed when Eden stopped him, became an expression of respect at the mention of Seabrook’s name. “Oh, aye. He’s one above. Fourth office down when you come off the stairs. To the right.”
“I thank you, sir. Shall we, Lacey?”
We climbed the flight and followed the clerk’s directions. Or attempted to. The fourth office was not as easily found as all that, as the floor was a maze of rooms that led to other rooms. After several more inquiries, promptly answered, we stood before a door that looked the same as all the others we’d passed.
A clerk hurried around us and directly into the office. “Mr. Seabrook. That army gent from Antigua to see you.”
“Yes, yes,” came a growl. “Please come in, Major Eden.”
We entered to find a small chamber with a large desk and shelves piled with reams of paper and ledgers. A man rose from behind the desk, setting aside a pen, the stacks of papers piled on either side of him like a castle wall.
“Delighted to see you again, sir,” the man greeted Eden.
He was rather tall and a bit spindly but had a wiry strength, similar to that of the ruffian who’d attacked us earlier this morning. The resemblance ended there, however. This man had a narrow face, dark hair slicked back from his high forehead, a pointed chin, and eyes that had seen plenty of smugglers striving to outwit him.
His words were delivered with sincerity. I wondered if he were simply congenial, or if it had been a pleasure to deal with the affable Eden instead of surly captains annoyed that they’d been caught trying to sneak in extra barrels of brandy.
“This is Captain Gabriel Lacey,” Eden said. “An old friend. I have at last come to collect my baggage.”
“You will stay this time while it is retrieved?” Seabrook’s dark eyes held a twinkle.
“I had a pressing matter to attend to yesterday,” Eden said glibly.
“I hope that matter has been cleared up. I noticed no more handbills with your name on them this morning.”
“Yes, that was a relief. Nothing to do with customs and my baggage.”
“No, no.” Seabrook called to the clerk who’d shown us in. “Fetch Major Eden’s things and be quick about it.”
“Sir.” The clerk saluted and disappeared.
“I have half a mind to take myself to the colonies,” Mr. Seabrook said after the waft of the young man’s passage had faded. “To warm my bones after a lifetime of working on the Thames.” He trailed off wistfully.
“It’s hot and musty most of the time,” Eden told him. “But the shores are beautiful. Still, England is home.”
“Ha.” Seabrook’s melancholia faded. “Says a man with the means to travel. Here I sit in the cold dampness of London. Men from all across the globe come through these doors, and I rarely leave the City.” Seabrook shook his head, then clicked his tongue against his teeth and grinned. “I have a decently paid post and am glad of it. Are you a traveler, Captain?”
“I do enjoy it,” I admitted. “The little I’ve done that wasn’t to fight a war, that is. Do you see much cargo from Egypt?”
“Egypt? Not I. I have the shipments from the Antilles and the Americas. Rum, cotton, spices, cocoa, that sort of thing.”
“Ah.” I sought any excuse to talk about Egypt, but I tamped down my eagerness. “I have heard about shipments that have gone missing.” I continued to wonder if they were connected to Warrilow’s death, in spite of Eden’s belief that the man had been killed by someone he’d enraged. “Were those from the Americas?”
Seabrook’s dark eyes went cold. “I’ll thank you not to speak too much of it, sir. The thieves have confounded us, and yes, much of what is stolen is from the Americas. Valuable cargo that disappears as though it never existed. Someone making fools of the excisemen.”
“You check all the ships as they come in, don’t you?”
“Indeed. No one goes ashore or offloads cargo until my men have gone over the ship, and the captain and cargo master have signed the forms.”
“Why did you take Major Eden’s belongings?” I asked. “Surely you did not suspect him of smuggling.”
Seabrook slanted me a wise glance. “You’d be surprised, Captain, what innocuous persons like Major Eden try to slide into the country. My lads were being thorough. We waylaid about half that cargo, as we’d had a hint that it was poached. Good thing we did, as some of the rest of it vanished from its warehouse. Fortunately, Major Eden’s things were found to contain nothing but what a man needs to keep himself, and we have no reason to hold them.”
As he finished, the young clerk returned bearing two valises and a large wooden box with a lock. The clerk handed Eden a key.