Free Uncertain Glory by Lea Wait

direction.
    â€œWe’re seeking a man headed to Belfast,” I said, raising my voice above the din. “Has a full, dark beard, and was up to the Mansion House an hour or so ago.”
    â€œWhat’re you wanting with him?” answered a deep voice from the corner.
    I turned. It was the man we’d been looking for. We made our way through the crowd, who’d quieted down to hear what we had to say.
    â€œCould we talk with you for a few moments?” asked Charlie. “It’s about Nell Gramercy.”
    â€œLovely young lady she is, indeed,” said the man. “And her uncle, a real gentleman. Supplied us all with rum this night, he did.”
    Charlie and I looked at each other.
    â€œWhat do you mean, supplied you all with rum?” I asked.
    â€œEarlier this week I was down to the wharves, checking my vessel, like any mariner would in this weather, when that citified Allen fellow came up to me. He inquired whether I knew many folks in town. I told him, no, I hailed from Belfast, but was tied up here due to business concerns. So he asked if I’d like to be making some hard cash. I said I was willing. He said I wasn’t to tell anyone. But the money’s been exchanged and drunk by now, so what’s he to do?”
    â€œWhat did he pay you for?”
    â€œHe gave me this fancy ring,” the sailor said, taking the velvet sack out of his pocket and showing the boys the ring within. Up close they could see it wasn’t real—only gold-painted tin.
    â€œHe told me as how his niece wanted to impress folks in town, so he asked me to get all excited, like, about what she said, and pretend it was a message from my mum.” He grinned. “Paid me ahead of time, and it worked real well, I’d say. Always had a taste for the stage, I have. And I was back here at Bailey’s by quarter past the hour.”
    He stood up and staggered a few steps toward the boys. “That answer your questions, young fellows?”
    â€œYes,” I said. “Thank you.”
    â€œIf you’d like, you could buy me another drink, you know. To thank me real good. Allen’s money disappeared faster than I planned.”
    â€œWe don’t have any money,” said Charlie, backing toward the door but taking out his notebook. “What’s your name? We write for the local newspaper, and we’d like to use you as a source.”
    â€œName’s Daniel Obadiah Jacobs,” said the man, breathing heavy fumes in our direction. “And ‘Esquire’ would look real good in print, too.”
    â€œThank you again,” I said as we rushed out the door and back onto Water Street, the laughter of the men inside following us.
    We’d run a few steps down Water Street and were on Main before Charlie spoke.
    â€œThat’s our proof, Joe—proof that Nell’s performance this evening was staged.”
    I had to agree.
    â€œAt least the first part of it was. You were right; her uncle planned it.” I hated to think Nell had lied to me. “And maybe she’d met with those other people earlier, and could guess what they’d be asking, too. But how did she know what folded question she’d pick next? And how did she know what
I
asked?”

Chapter 15
    Sunday, April 14, morning
    â€œThe newspaper can wait this once,” Ma had said firmly. “With the world turning upside down, this is no time to be skipping church services. No discussion.” So instead of heading to the
Herald
office as early as I’d planned on Sunday morning, I was stuck going to church with Ma and Pa.
    To be straight with you, they only knew I needed to get the extra edition out for its news value. They didn’t know I had only eight days left until Mr. Shuttersworth drove up in his wagon to collect his money—or my press. I didn’t want their pity, or their money. The
Herald
was my business. I had to manage it