"Oui." Panic flashed in Lenard's eyes. "But please do not tell anyone. Two men approached me and offered to buy bottles of liquor, wanted to store other items in my cellar." He threw his hands in the air. "What was I to do? I needed a large sum of money and could not wait the months it would take to sell the same quantity at the inn."
It crossed Marcus' mind to ask why he'd not sought help from his friends, but he understood Lenard was a proud man.
"You know the smugglers will not make it past Guernsey. The revenue ship will be waiting to intercept them. The men who approached you, were they French?"
"One French, one English, and they spoke of another man though I never met him." Lenard threw his hands up. "Please, I cannot say any more. If they knew I had said anything, well, …"
Marcus dropped his hand. "And that is the extent of your involvement?"
Lenard nodded frantically. "Oui. I should never have accepted their offer."
The man looked terrified, and Marcus was relieved to find, that in alerting Coombes, he had not betrayed any of the villagers. "I doubt the men from the Custom House will care where the contraband came from. Their only interest lies in the men unwilling to pay duty to the Crown. But if ever a similar opportunity presents itself, I strongly suggest you refuse."
Lenard nodded.
"Just one more question," Marcus continued. "Have you seen Samuel Lessard in the last few days? I ask becaus
e I thought I saw him in the inn on the night the minstrel played. But both Selene and her father insist he is in Lyon."
"That is strange," Lenard said scratching his head. "I thought I saw him too. He never spoke, and someone else must have served him, but I am sure I recognised him amongst the crowd."
"I think I need to question Selene again."
Marcus held the cottage door open for Lenard. They stepped outside and scanned the deserted area looking for his cook.
"Perhaps she has wandered around to the back of the house," Lenard said noting his concerned expression.
"Trust me." Marcus was suddenly feeling far more perceptive than he had in days. "Selene obviously had an ulterior motive for coming with us. Don't ask me why, but I believe if we find Selene we will also find Miss Sinclair."
Chapter 20
She was dead!
Well, that was the first thought to enter Anna's head when she opened her eyes. But she would have expected the fiery pits of hell to be a lot less cold and dank. The floor beneath her felt damp and moist. A fine trace of soil stuck to her palms as she lay patting the solid surface. In a panic she tried to sit up, expecting to hit her head on the lid of the coffin, expecting to be overwhelmed by a sudden fear of suffocating. But there was no lid or wooden box to restrict her movements.
Inhaling deeply, she struggled to focus in the darkness. All about her seemed to sway. Black shapes danced before her eyes, moving closer and then pulling away. The throbbing ache in her temples did not help matters, and when she tried to stand she clutched at nothing in the hope of finding hidden support in the depths of the shadows.
What in heaven's name had happened to her?
She remembered sitting in the cart on the way to the village. She remembered chatting to Selene, remembered the horrified look on the woman's face as her world became a hazy blur.
So how had she ended up all alone, curled up on the dirty floor?
As her eyes became accustomed to her surroundings, she realised she was standing in the middle of a room. Amidst the gloom, she could just make out the outline of a door, and with her hands held out in front of her to guide her way, she shuffled blindly forward.
The solid wooden door had been reinforced with metal strips. Despite running her hands over every inch of the grooved panels, she found no handle, no key in the lock. Anna pushed it, hit out, kicked it until her toes were sore and she felt dizzy.
"Help!" she shouted numerous times. Too many to count. "Can anyone hear me?"
But each time she was met with an eerie stillness.
With her vision restricted, all other senses were more attuned. The faint rhythmical swooshing sound made her think of the sea, like undulating waves crashing against a rocky shore. Indeed, mingled with the rather repugnant earthy smell, she noted a hint of salt in the air.
So, she was in a building near the sea.
Perhaps the smugglers were aware of Marcus' assignment and had taken her hostage in a bid to secure his silence. But he had already alerted Coombes of their plans, although they probably didn't know that. And while Lenard needed money to help his daughter, she could not believe him capable of such deception and cruelty. Perhaps Victor's accomplice had progressed from anonymous threats in the stables to kidnap and murder. Of course, he'd not have the stomach to commit the act himself and had locked her up in a tomb in the hope she'd suffocate.
The last thought caused panic to flare.