And much more. While Daniel waited to find out how much more Trowbridge knew, the older man added, I understand Lord Rexford has been a major assistance to Bow Street and the magistrates office.
Those facts were common knowledge, after Rex helped solve a highly publicized, sensational case, then married the accused murderess. You still have not answered how you came to be on my doorstep this morning.
Mr. Harrison of McCanns Club thought I might have need for one of your skills. He still has ties to the Intelligence Division, you know.
Daniel decided hed have to murder Harrison, even if the man was his friend, and like a brother to Harry.
Trowbridge must have seen the fury on Daniels face, or else remembered Mr. Stamfields own reputation for violence. He quickly said, I assure you, Harrison told no one else, and only spoke to me for the sake of Englands safety. I told no one, either, and would not even if I had not given my sworn word, since I did not half believe what Harrison said. Here. He tossed five more government-issue notes on the desk, two five-pound and three one-pound denominations.
Daniel touched each one. One of the five-pound notes was fake. He held it to its mate and studied them for differences. Very good. No one would know without careful scrutiny.
Precisely. The forgers managed to duplicate the watermark the bank added to discourage copying. Neither that nor Parliaments making counterfeiting a capital offense seems to be working currently. Do you know what a flood of these can do to the entire economy of the country?
Daniel could imagine. The poorest Englishmen rarely used the paper currency, not trusting its value. Now the wealthier, more knowledgeable citizens might want to see the gold the flimsies represented. There would be panic at the banks, shops closed, and businesses bankrupt. The government would be blamed. Prinny was already so unpopular there could be rioting in the streets.
Its not a pretty picture.
Then youll help?
Daniel did not hesitate an instant. Of course.
Trowbridge nodded and gathered up the banknotes. Mr. Hase, the head teller at Threadneedle Street, is expecting us.
Now who is jumping to conclusions?
Harrison said the Royce men never fail their country.
Well, that may be truehis lack of the slightest itch told Daniel it wasbut I dont see how I can help much other than picking out the fakes. I cannot trace them back to their maker, and I sure as the devil cannot stop them from being circulated.
But you can ask people where they got them.
Daniel forced himself not to squirm like a schoolboy. I much prefer to stick with the paper money.
But no one lies to you.
Daniel stared across the room at the portrait of one of his Royce ancestors. He couldnt remember if that was the earl who could literally smell out a lie, or if he was the one who heard buzzing in his ears. Theyd all done their duty. He found a clean glass and poured Trowbridge a drink. He raised his own glass in a toast. To King and Country.
And to old dogs with fleas.
Chapter Twenty-one
T
he Bank of England took up most of Threadneedle Street. As Daniel and Lord Trowbridge were escorted by guards through the building to the head tellers office, Daniel could not help thinking that Miss Abbott could be interested in a tour of this place. Miss Thomlinson might know what all the men were doing, rushing around, silently moving ledgers and folders and boxes from one place to another, but Corie was more appreciative of a new spectacle. Hed seen the two women in the art museums, where Miss Thomlinson could recite the artists place of birth and year, and the entire provenance of the painting. Corie was more like Daniel. Shed given soft little Oh sounds when something impressed her.
He should not be thinking of Corie now, nor her murmurings. This was business, state business, Daniels new trade. Counterfeit Detector? Inspector of Currency? None sounded as dashing as Harrys being the Aide. Not that Daniel wanted the public to know what he was doing, but he did wish, for an instant, that some peopleMiss Corisande Abbott in particularcould see he was not just a here-and-thereian.
Trowbridge definitely was no idle town buck. He seemed at home here, nodding to this man or that as if he understood their functions, every one of them. He received a warm welcome, almost one of relief, from the head of the vast accounting office. Mr. Hase was willing to listen, but he showed a degree of skepticism that Daniel was the expert found to assist them with their little problem.
Daniel could not blame the man. He knew he did not look like any counterfeiting expert, not in his rough clothes covered in dog hair, but if he were Hase, in danger of seeing the whole British Empire go bankrupt on his watch, hed sure as hell welcome anyone with a plan to help.
Trowbridge must have warned Mr. Hase that Daniel used special methods, which were not to be viewed or discussed. Mr. Hase, however, refused to allow Daniel to sit alone in the vault room he led them to.
It was tempting, all right. Not that Daniel needed the blunt, not that hed think of stealing a shilling, but damn, there was a kings ransom in this room alone, and it was only one of many.
Trowbridge explained the bound stacks of government-issued currency were from various private banksChilds, Coates, Lloyds, and lesser ones in the countrysidesent to London in exchange for coins. With each pile labeled, they might discover the counterfeits origin, if one pile held a higher proportion of sham bills. It would take the banks own team of professional examiners, including the extra men hired once the trouble was discovered, days to inspect just these, with more coming and going every day. Besides, the fewer people who knew of the countrys finances being tampered with, the better.
Trowbridge said he would stay with Mr. Stamfield, to vouch for his honesty. Not that such steps were necessary. Stamfield here is a Royce, dont you know.
In that case, the head teller acknowledged, no committee of bank officers and guards was required.
When the man left, Trowbridge handed Daniel a bundle. Daniel riffled through the bills, as if he were counting out a deck of cards, only the pound notes were thinner than pasteboards. He found one counterfeit, of a low denomination. Those were not as potentially damaging as the larger designations in the short run, but over any length of time, and with enough of the false flimsies changing hands, they could be catastrophic. A smart counterfeiter would know that. A patient one would not try for a huge windfall all at once, which would alert the authorities that much sooner. Smaller bills were easier to pass around, and less likely to draw attention. According to Trowbridge, the government had no idea how long ago the current scheme had begun.
The next pile revealed nothing out of the usual, nor the one after. After that, Daniel detected a few notes that gave his fingers prickles, but not many. Trowbridge consulted with a minor official waiting by the door.
Then Daniel started to riffle a pile of banknotes that came from Chimkins Bank in Oxfordshire.
Got it! he yelled, blowing on his fingers. Nearly a fifth of the bills were as crooked as a shepherds staff.
Good job! Trowbridge shouted, bringing their escort into the vault room, then hurrying to fetch the director back. Now they could withdraw the tainted bills from circulation before they caused more problems, and go after the source. Trowbridge considered that setting up shop near the university was a brilliant move on the part of the counterfeiters. Students seldom held their money for long, had no reason to inspect each pound note, and went elsewhere for holidays. Of course Oxford may have been the testing ground, to see how easily the counterfeits passed among the students, shopkeepers, and landladies. More were coming to London now.
Trowbridge was already writing memos to send examiners and investigators to Oxford on the instant. Would Daniel care to accompany them?
To interrogate swindlers? Not for all the money in the room. Daniel was glad he had the excuse of his mothers ball, a sick houseguest, two young ladies who could not be left without an escort. Hed plead on behalf of the old dog if he thought that could keep him from playing at Bow Street Runner again. The last time had left his skin raw from scratching.
He went through several more bundles of banknotes, but none of the other rural banks held as many counterfeits as some of the London banks. The scheme was definitely spreading into London, via lesser denominations, which were less likely to be scrutinized as carefully.
Of course they did not know about the Bank of Englands expert inspector. Daniel rolled that on his tongue while Trowbridge and Hase conferred. Expert inspector sounded a lot better than Inquisitor. He liked working with the money far more than with spies and criminals. Money did not cringe or cry when he came near.
Meanwhile a clerk with a magnifying lens examined the notes Daniel said were forgeries. The head teller wasnt ready to believe that a civilian, not even a banker or a clerk, had found so many counterfeits in twenty minutes. The clerk found the discrepancies.
Now Mr. Hase shook Daniels hand. What an eye he must have! What an uncanny knack.
Trowbridge hustled them out before anyone could ask questions. Yes, isnt it?
Daniel promised to return later in the week for another inspection.
Daniel left the bank and Trowbridge with a lighter step, a lighter heart. He bought himself a meat pie from a vendor on the corner and licked his fingers afterward, his excellent, artful fingers.
He wished Harry were here, to brag to about his new skill. Or Rex, whod be glad Daniel was working with the government again, doing something rewarding. Speaking of rewarding, Daniel wondered if shaved playing cards would affect his fingers. What a boon that could be when he went gaming in the stews. Not that he wanted to visit his old low haunts, not while his mother was in Town, anyway. He pondered what else he could do.
He did regret having no one to tell, no one to help him figure out what other lies he could uncover with his new truth-touching fingers. Here he was, not gaming, not wenching, not drinkingwell, not to excessand no one seemed to notice that, either.
So what was the point of reforming oneself?
For oneself, of course. He knew it all along. He liked having a clear head in the morning, and waking up in clean sheets. He enjoyed not depending on his gambling winnings, and seeing his mothers smile when he bought her and the girls flowers. He bought three bunches of violets from a flower girl, and gave her an extra coin, one he was positive was real.
He liked doing what no one else could do. He did not like having no one to share it with.
Everyone at home was too busy, even if he wanted to discuss his amazing day.
His mother and Susanna were at a waltzing party for the youngest set, according to Dobbson. The afternoon functions were intended to give the debutantes experience with the dance steps and varied partners for when they were finally granted permission. Daniel couldnt see much difference in dancing in the daytime versus at night. In fact the whole pother over a dance made as much sense as reading Shakespeare to a sheep, but his mother thought someone from Royce House ought to be seen in public after last nights hurried departure from Almacks. Everyone would be coming to their door otherwise, feigning interest in Lord Morgans welfare, but wanting to know the truth about Cories supposedly broken heart.
They dragged Clarence Haversmith along with them, since there were never enough willing males at these afternoon gatherings. Who could blame the poor cubs for making excuses?
Miss Reynolds was playing piquet with Lord Morgan when Daniel stopped by his room. He was better, she was blooming, and the dog was banished to the hallway outside the door. The physician had prescribed rest, no cigars, no late nights, no strenuous activity, and no pets in the bedroom. Besides, Miss Reynolds was afraid of dogs, and this one kept scratching her ears and licking her feet. Helens feet, that was, not Miss Reynoldss, or the dog would be sent to the stables.
The hounds name was Pip, Daniel learned, for the black spots. Daniel preferred Helen, and since she was nearly deaf anyway, he continued to call her by that name. She answered to it, or to the smell of the kidney pie on his fingers. Which reminded Daniel he hadnt eaten in a while, so they followed the scent of raspberry tarts and tea.
Helen started scratching again.
So was Miss Abbott, scratching with a pen in the morning room on yet more letters to old friends. At least that was what he guessed, from the addresses on the other letters. He wondered if she was asking them if they had any brothers or unwed cousins, now that the ranks of her suitors were thinner, and she could not depend on her diamonds.
Hed never met a female so determined to land a husband. He should be grateful, he supposed, that he wouldnt be responsible for her much longer, but it was not as if they were throwing her out of Royce House anytime soon. Theyd been good hosts, he thought, and his mother more than generous, so Cories haste to leave was almost insulting.
