A Scandal By Any Other Name

His voice was incredibly loud, deep, and powerful. It completely cut through the sound of the crashing waves and echoed off the wooden walls of the warehouse.

"By the direct order of the Crown and the High Chancellor of the House of Lords," Captain Reynolds announced clearly, his eyes sweeping the room, "you are all under immediate arrest for high treason, theft against the Crown, and illegal smuggling!"

The entire warehouse went completely, utterly silent.

The smugglers stared at the blue-coated guards in pure, absolute shock. Their mouths hung open in disbelief. They had used this hidden coastal warehouse for years, and the authorities had never even come close to finding their secret path. Lord Farrington had always protected them with his immense wealth and political influence.

Higgins stayed frozen near the center of the room. The crumpled letter from the Earl slipped from his trembling fingers and fluttered silently to the dusty floor. He pressed his hands against his own chest, his heart beating so fast he thought he might collapse. He was trembling so violently his teeth chattered audibly.

Silas realized the sheer gravity of the danger immediately. He was a seasoned criminal. He knew the strict punishment for smuggling untaxed goods. He knew it meant a short drop and a sudden stop at the hangman’s noose. Pure, blinding panic took over his rational mind.

He reached quickly into the deep pocket of his coat and pulled out a small, rusty, loaded pistol.

"Run for the cliff path!" Silas yelled desperately to his friends. He raised his rusty gun, aiming it wildly toward Captain Reynolds.

Captain Reynolds did not even flinch. His face remained perfectly calm, cold, and stern. He did not take a single step backward.

Before Silas could even pull the trigger, two Crown Guards standing near the front of the line fired their rifles directly into the air.

BANG!

BANG!

The loud, deafening, explosive shots echoed like thunder inside the wooden walls. The bright muzzle flashes illuminated the dusty room. The lead balls hit the wooden beams of the ceiling, sending sharp splinters of wood raining down onto the heads of the cowering smugglers.

"Drop the weapon!" Captain Reynolds ordered, his voice dropping into a deadly, quiet tone. He took one slow, deliberate step forward. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Drop it right this second, or my men will not aim for the ceiling on the next volley. You are completely surrounded, and there is nowhere to run."

Silas froze. He looked at the two polished rifles pointed directly at his chest. He looked at the calm, highly trained, completely deadly faces of the guards. He listened to the sound of more guards moving outside, effectively blocking the cliff path. He knew he had absolutely no chance of winning this fight.

Slowly, his broad shoulders slumped in total, crushing defeat. He opened his calloused hand.

The pistol fell to the floorboards with a dull, heavy clatter.

"Secure them," Captain Reynolds commanded sharply, waving his sword in a short arc.

The Crown Guards moved forward quickly and efficiently. They did not show any mercy or gentleness. They grabbed the dirty smugglers roughly by their thick coat collars and pushed them face-first against the rough wooden walls.

"Put your hands behind your backs!" a guard shouted loudly.

The guards pulled thick ropes from their leather belts and tied the smugglers’ wrists tightly and securely together. The men groaned and cursed as their arms were pulled uncomfortably back, but none of them fought. The sheer fear of the loaded rifles kept them perfectly, entirely still.

Captain Reynolds lowered his sword. He sheathed the long blade smoothly at his hip. He walked slowly into the center of the warehouse. He looked around with deep disgust. He saw the remaining wooden crates, the open back doors, and the dark fog rolling inside.

He walked over to the spot where Higgins was standing, completely frozen in terror.

Reynolds looked down at the balding, terrified manager. He reached into the clean inner pocket of his dark blue coat and pulled out a folded piece of expensive parchment. It was a perfectly copied page from Lord Farrington’s ledger, sent directly to him by the Duke of Ford just hours before.

Reynolds unfolded the paper, looking at the exact, meticulous details provided by the Duke’s incredible, flawless intelligence.

"Are you Mr. Higgins?" Captain Reynolds asked, his voice cold and completely factual.

Higgins swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. He looked up at the tall, imposing man. He nodded his head very slowly, a pathetic, jerky movement.

"Yes. Yes, sir, I am," Higgins whispered.

Reynolds gestured with his gloved hand toward the remaining crates of tobacco. "And this is the illegal, untaxed American tobacco belonging to the Earl, Lord Farrington? The tobacco you were currently attempting to destroy to hide the evidence?"

Higgins’s eyes widened in sheer, absolute panic. He shook his head wildly from side to side, desperately trying to save himself.

"No! No, sir!" Higgins lied, his voice high and incredibly squeaky. "We do not know any Earl! We are just simple, honest fishermen, sir! We found these crates washed up on the shore earlier today. We were just bringing them inside to inspect them!"

Captain Reynolds let out a short, cold, completely humorless laugh. He looked at Higgins with pure pity and complete disdain. He hated liars.

"Do not play the fool with me, Mr. Higgins," Reynolds said softly, leaning down slightly so he was at eye level with the manager. "We know exactly who you are. We know exactly what you were doing. And we know exactly who you work for."

Reynolds held up the piece of parchment so Higgins could clearly see.

"I have the exact ledger pages," Reynolds stated clearly, tapping the paper. "I have the dates. I have the exact amounts of gold paid to you for your silence. I know about the other branch of warehouse. We have already captured them. I even know about the secret, hollow compartment beneath the floorboards in the back office where you currently hide smuggled French silks but there aren’t worth as much as the tobacco, right?"