Harry frowned. “The clerk?”
“The tall man with the dark hair.”
The clerk was a shorter fellow with bright blond hair. She had to mean Remy. “Where do you recognize him from?” Likely, she’d seen him around Saffron Hill, particularly since he’d been helping Harry look for Frost. Harry tried to remain patient because she looked scared. But he was anxious to get the paperwork done so he could get to Selina.
“He’s the man who told us to say the Vicar started the fire. My brother says he visits Mr. Frost.”
A buzzing sound filled Harry’s ears, and his blood went cold. Remy had gone to talk to Frost. And so had Selina.
Harry started down the stairs then abruptly stopped. Turning, he looked up at Maggie. “I need to get to Chick Lane right away. I’m sorry.” He flew down the stairs and found the nearest clerk. “I’ll have to take care of this later. Put that girl in my office. And give her tea and some biscuits.” He thrust the paperwork into the clerk’s arms.
Then he fled the building and broke off at a run toward Saffron Hill, which was over a mile away.
By the time Harry arrived at the Duck and Swan in Chick Lane, he was overheated and filled with dread. He rushed into the dim interior of the tavern and looked around wildly. No one looked familiar—he didn’t see Selina or Frost or Remy.
A woman with rouged cheeks and red lips came toward him, swaying her hips. “’Evening, sir. Care for an ale? We can share one.” She put her hand on his chest.
“I’m looking for Luther Frost or a woman who might be with him. She’s tall, with golden-brown hair. Beautiful.” Harry saw a flicker of something in her eyes and quickly pressed a coin into her hand.
The prostitute pouted. “She came in a little while ago. There.” She inclined her head toward a door tucked into the front corner of the common room.
“Thank you.” Harry barely finished speaking before he turned and rushed to the door.
He flung it open and stepped inside to see Remy towering over Selina, his hand clutching her arm. “Remy?”
Remy looked at Harry over Selina’s head. “Harry, what are you doing here?”
“I came to meet her.”
She turned and jerked her arm from Remy’s grasp. “Harry, he killed Luther.” She glanced toward the floor.
Harry followed her gaze and saw Frost’s prone form. He also saw blood. Returning his attention to his friend, Harry took a cautious step toward them. “What happened, Remy?”
Selina answered. “He paid Luther to start the fire.”
Remy struck Selina, and she fell against the wall with a soft groan.
Harry pulled his pistol from his coat, but Remy dove under the table. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s legs before Harry could reposition himself and knocked Harry off-balance.
Falling to the floor, Harry kept ahold of his gun, but he couldn’t get a good shot. Remy reached for it, his hand closing around Harry’s as he struggled to wrest the weapon away.
“Get off him!” Selina cried.
Harry looked up to see her standing a few feet away holding a pistol. Likely hers. Thank God she carried one. Still, he wanted her far away from here. “Selina, go. I can take care of this.”
His distraction was all Remy needed. He managed to knock Harry’s pistol away, sending it sliding across the floor.
Harry pushed at Remy, but when he didn’t fight back, Harry chilled.
“He has a knife!” Selina’s warning came as the blade flashed in the lantern light.
Harry grabbed Remy’s wrist just before the knife came down. The blade was still precariously close to his chest.
Something moved over the back of Remy’s head, followed by a crash. Remy let out a low sound, then slumped over Harry. Thankfully, Remy’s hand went limp, otherwise, the knife might have pierced Harry’s breast.
Harry shoved him to the side, breathing heavily. He stared up at Selina. “What did you do?”
“I hit him with a pitcher.”
Pieces of pottery littered the floor. Remy groaned.
Harry scrambled to his feet. “Can you go out and find some rope? I need to bind his hands.”
She nodded and hurried from the room.
Working quickly, Harry found Remy’s pistol and checked him for any other weapons besides the knife. He took both and set them in the middle of the table. He caught sight of Luther on the floor, his face ashen and still in death.
Selina returned with a length of rope. “Will this do?”
Harry took it from her with a nod, then knelt to bind Remy’s hands behind his back. He tied them tightly with the best knot he knew.
“I was afraid to shoot him. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
Harry looked up at Selina and saw the fear in her eyes. He rose and went to her. A red mark from Remy’s hand had begun to brighten her cheek. Harry wanted to kill him. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, but a tear leaked from her eye. He caressed her face. “You’re safe now.”
He went to the doorway, keeping his focus on Remy, and called out, “I need someone to run to Bow Street. Fast. Ten shillings.”
A boy dashed to the doorway. “I can do it, sir.”
Harry gave him five shillings. “The rest when you return with at least two constables. Tell them Harry Sheffield needs assistance and a cart. And hurry.”
The boy nodded and took himself off.
Remy groaned louder, and Harry bent to turn him over. Then Harry dragged him to the wall and propped him up to sit against it.
Harry glanced at Selina. “What happened?”
“I arrived and met Luther in here. He told me a Runner paid him to start the fire. Then Remington showed up and asked for a payment that was due.”
Harry fixed a furious stare on his friend—former friend. “What was the payment for?”
Blood trickled down Remy’s head from the wound Selina had inflicted with the pottery. “Everything she says is a lie.”
Many things, but not everything, Harry had learned. “You’d have me believe that she killed Frost?”
Remy winced, then lowered his gaze. He didn’t say anything.
“Why were you holding her when I arrived?” Harry asked.
“Because he intended to rape me.” Selina wouldn’t lie about that. But Harry didn’t think she was lying about any of this. Now he really wanted to kill Remy.
Harry crouched down and grabbed the top of Remy’s hair. He pulled Remy’s head back, forcing him to look up. “Don’t fucking lie to me, you piece of filth.”
Remy sneered. “I did offer to pay her.”
“Before you promised to kill me,” Selina said.
Harry knocked his head back against the wall, drawing a yelp of pain from Remy. “Speak of her again, and I’ll finish what she started.” He kept his hand tangled in Remy’s hair. “Why did you pay Frost to start the fire?”
Selina answered. “Because Luther agreed to pay Remington a protection fee when he took over Partridge’s gang.”
Harry stared at the man he thought he knew. “You took money?”
“You shouldn’t have cared about the damn fire. About any of it.” Remy’s lip curled. “But you’ve such a soft heart. What did it matter that there were a few less whores and thieving brats? That was a good thing. Partridge refused to pay me. Frost didn’t. We turn our heads and let them rule over their little kingdoms. They should pay for our ignorance—and our protection.”