"Do you think this is it?" Sylvia asked. "Do you think he lives there too?"
"Langley didn't say. I do know it houses Tate's laboratory and factory. I can see the chimney stacks of the factory behind."
"There's no smoke."
Indeed there wasn't. The factory mustn't have been in operation. That would align with Langley's theory that Tate needed money quickly and by nefarious means. If his factory wasn't operational, he likely had no income.
Tommy opened the door for us and we stepped down to the unpaved road. "I'll lead the way," he said.
"Don't be absurd," Sylvia scolded. "You're a footman. You may escort us inside, but remain a little behind. I don't particularly want to meet this man on our own."
I didn't think Tommy's presence would make any difference to Tate. As Sylvia so bluntly put it, Tommy was a footman and few gentlemen paid attention to servants. To people of Langley, Wade and Tate's ilk, footmen were as featureless and interchangeable as the Hackney Wick houses.
"Do you think Jack is here?" Tommy asked, looking up and down the street. "I don't see Olsen or the carriage anywhere."
"He may have sent him away," Sylvia said.
"Why would he do that?"
Why indeed. The unease that had been lurking beneath the surface since leaving Frakingham made itself known in the most intense way. Fear drilled into my core. One man was dead. Please God, don't let Jack be next.
"I don't think you should come with us," I said to Tommy.
"What?" Sylvia cried. "Why not?"
"Tate doesn't know that we know about Patrick. Bringing Tommy may alert him to the fact he's here for our protection. Besides, while we're distracting Tate, Tommy can get into the factory and look around."
"That's very devious," she said. I wasn't sure if it was a compliment or not.
"What about the brougham?" Tommy asked.
"We passed some stables around the corner near the fire engine-station. Take it there and walk back. If Tate is watching us, then he'll think you've left. There must be another entrance into the factory that doesn't go through the front house. See if you can find it."
Tommy grinned. "It's a good plan, Miss Smith."
"And dangerous," Sylvia said.
"Thank you for your concern for my safety, Miss Langley, I'll be alright."
She sniffed. "I meant it would be dangerous for us alone."
"Oh. Right." Tommy tipped his cap then hopped up to the driver's seat. "I'll meet you back at the stables." He flicked the reins and drove off.
"I don't like this," Sylvia said, watching him go. "I don't like this at all."
"You have to stop worrying. It's written all over your face. Never let the enemy see your fear."
"Where did you learn that little gem of wisdom? A book on battle techniques?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. Come on."
I walked off and when Sylvia caught up to me, I was glad to see she didn't look as if she wanted to throw up her breakfast anymore. "Do you suppose Jack has already been here and left?" she asked.
"It's entirely likely. He may have even gone to fetch the police, or be on his way back to Frakingham already. But we're here now and we must go inside and find out for sure. Just in case..." I couldn't say it, couldn't hear the words out loud.
"Yes," Sylvia said heavily. "Just in case."
A housekeeper wearing a spotless white apron answered the door upon our knock. I took this as a good sign. The presence of such a matronly looking woman was a comfort. Tate wouldn't do anything with her near, surely.
She directed us to sit in the small downstairs parlor while she fetched her employer. We hadn't been waiting one minute when the man I assumed to be Reuben Tate walked in.
He wasn't very tall, but he was whip-thin and hollow-cheeked. He was about Langley's age if the white hair was an indication, but where Langley had wrinkles around his eyes and across his forehead, Tate had none. His face was as smooth as a polished tabletop, and just as shiny. Indeed, the hair at his ears was slightly damp too. The shirt sleeve that should have housed a left arm was folded and pinned to the side of his waistcoat. He wore no smoking jacket or house coat, but he didn't look like the sort who went for such a casual appearance anyway. He was too neatly dressed. His hair was perfectly combed and his chin cleanly shaved. Much like his face, there wasn't a single wrinkle in his clothes and the shirt collar and trouser creases were sharp.
"Welcome," he said, giving us a shallow bow. "I commend you both on your courage. I could see that it wasn't an easy decision to send your driver away and speak to me by yourselves."
So he had indeed been watching us. I was glad that I'd guessed correctly and sent Tommy on his own errand, but disturbed too. I was also deeply disturbed that Jack wasn't there, yet not particularly surprised. When we'd not seen the carriage outside, I knew we'd missed him. Clearly he hadn't managed to get Tate arrested.