Die I Will Not by S. K. Rizzolo

earlier that day. Whatever this was, it clearly constituted an organized effort by someone with the means to pay for spies and coach drivers; Horatio Rex certainly had these means, Chase reflected. Did Mary Leach refuse to admit her father to the sickroom because she suspected him of being behind the attack? If Rex were Collatinus, that might make sense.
    Packet listened with interest. “Never fear. I’ll nose around some more.”
    â€œSee what you can discover about Leach’s attacker. I’ve just come from the Adelphi Terrace, where he is about to meet Old Mr. Grim. His loving wife cares for him.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œShe doesn’t leave his side.”
    â€œYou think maybe she’s covering for someone? Maybe she don’t relish the scandal?”
    â€œThis is her husband, Packet. Wouldn’t you think she’d want his killer caught?”
    â€œWho do you reckon this masked man was? Collatinus?”
    â€œI’ve no notion, but Mrs. Leach informs me I’ve got hold of the wrong handle somehow.”
    â€œAiming to throw dust in your eyes,” suggested Packet.
    â€œYou may be right.” Chase removed his watch from his waistcoat pocket to check the time. “Let’s hope that porter will be along soon.”
    When Malone arrived ten minutes later, he hesitated as his eyes adjusted to the light, then began to scan the tables. He caught sight of Chase, froze, turned his back, and slipped back out the door, banging it behind him.
    â€œWhat the devil?” Chase was already on his feet. “Wait here,” he said to Packet, but the thief remained close on his heels.
    As they ran through the court and onto Drury Lane, the prostitute still loitered in the archway. “Your man is getting away. Be quick! There he goes,” she gasped, excitement making her look younger. She pointed down the street at a fleeing figure.
    â€œI can see that,” Chase barked at her.
    He set off after the porter, but his bad knee, which had stiffened as he sat over his ale, gave out, and he nearly lost his footing, his spectacles bouncing to the bottom of his nose. Ahead of him, Malone rounded a corner, disappearing from view. He cursed.
    But Packet, who had sprinted after Malone, called over his shoulder, “My chance to return a favor.” His hoarse chuckle floated back. “I’ll see you later at the Brown Bear.”
    Chase turned away. Retrieving a coin from his purse, he walked slowly back toward Feathers Court to approach the woman with the baby in her arms. Awake now, the infant rooted at her neck, and the whore looked at him with a glint of mockery in her too-old eyes. Chase sighed.
    â€œYour sixpence, miss.” He put the coin in her hand.

Chapter VIII
    Penelope and Maggie spent the evening in front of the fire. Though a basket of plain mending lay at Maggie’s feet, she liked to take an hour in the evening to do some fancy work, a skill she’d been taught by the patroness of the rather unusual charitable organization where she and Penelope had first met. Tonight Maggie was busy adding a floral and leaf design to the hem and neckline of one of Penelope’s muslin gowns.
    Maggie listened as Penelope described the Collatinus letters, N.D.’s mysterious death, and the recent attack on Dryden Leach, but she refused to credit that Eustace Sandford, a man she’d never met, could have done anything seriously amiss. “He’s your dad, isn’t he? You’d know if he had something wrong in his nature.” Unerringly, she had hit upon the reassurance that would be most welcome, and Penelope was grateful.
    On the whole, Maggie seemed to welcome these developments as a way to enliven the dull domestic round. Her face bright with interest, she said she wasn’t one to wish ill on anyone, but she thought Dryden Leach sounded like a coxcomb who had likely asked for his scurvy treatment, what with writing nasty articles and