Page 51 of Souvenir Heart

The footsteps stopped at the mouth of the alley.

Marcus released the buttons of Allard’s waistcoat and slid his hand to the knife tucked in the back of his breeches. He gripped the leather-wrapped hilt. Pulled the weapon halfway out.

A massive figure stepped into the alley, blocking what little light had previously entered the narrow space. There was a rustling sound and then a blessedly familiar voice. “Not too late, am I?” David asked, adding, “I brought the sack.”

Marcus released the hilt, pushed the knife back into place, and returned to the business of removing Allard’s waistcoat.

“What kept you?” Andre whispered.

“Information gathering. Trust me. It was worth the delay…”

“First things, first,” Andre tugged the uniform jacket off Marcus’s shoulder and passed it to David. “Take that.”

The work of undressing Allard went significantly faster, freed of the encumbrance of the bulky garment and with the additional set of hands. Removing his shoes was a challenge; removing his linen pants in the narrow darkness a balancing act. But at last, they had him stripped down to his shirt and small clothes.

“Do we need those?” Andre said in a tone that managed to convey both his distaste for the task, but willingness to remove them, if that was what Marcus’s plan required.

“No. They’re among the things I smuggled into the prison.”

“Good,” Andre said. “So, we’re done here? Shall I drop him now?” He slid his boot sole back and forth in the muck; the slick, slurping sound like jelly being released from a mold.

Marcus felt a pang of sympathy for the half-naked soldier. On impulse, he emptied the pockets of his coat, slid the garment off and draped it over Allard’s shoulders. As they slid the man down, he used a booted foot to flip the tails of the coat beneath him.

“Protecting the private’s privates?” Andre said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Still, he’s better off than the last lot of national guardsmen we encountered…”

“About that.” David shifted the sack stuffed with Allard’s uniform over his shoulder as they headed out of the alley. In a low voice, he recounted the discussion between the soldiers he’d overheard in the Cock’s Roost. “I figured they’d find them in a day or two,” he concluded, “but it’s damned bad luck, connecting it to Marcus.”

“How?” Andre said, in a horrified tone.

“No idea.” David admitted.

“Do we speed things up?” Andre turned to look at Marcus.

“No. We’ll need to be more careful. Not less. Security around the city gates is already tighter since they started rounding up the Girondins. Rumors of an English spy on the loose and a breakout from the Conciergerie is only going to make things more challenging. We’ll need to find a place to hide me and the lady for one, maybe two days. Just in case.” Marcus said, hating the idea of losing more time. “Not Suzanne’s,” he added. “We’ve put her at too much risk as it is.”

“I’ve got an idea.” Andre volunteered. “It’s far enough away that we don’t have to worry if the guards from the prison decide to conduct a door-to-door search of the neighborhood. No nosy neighbors. Foot traffic is rare.”

“Sound’s promising…”

“Though you may not like it. It’s dark.”

A shiver went through Marcus, a memory of darkness and damp earth covering his eyes, filling his mouth, but he said levelly, “If it keeps us safe, I promise I’ll like it well enough.”

“If you weren’t such a damn fine forger, I might ask for that in writing.”

“I can make some modifications to the coach.” David said.

“Only what’s absolutely necessary,” Marcus said firmly, turning to look at him. “We don’t have time for a major rebuild.”

“I’ll arrange for a meeting with Madame de Rouvroy tomorrow,” Andre said, “I’ll say I’ve just found some critical piece of new evidence…though I’ll admit, I’m a bit concerned someone will connect me with our friend in the alley.”

“As for that, I’ve already come up with a plan…”

“As always, knew I could count on you. What have you come up with?”

Marcus slid a foot forward, pivoted, and swung, his balled-up fist connecting with Andre’s face with a meaty thunk.

Thirty-Four