A Scandal By Any Other Name

Higgins stopped breathing. His jaw dropped completely open. No sound came out of his throat.

His mind raced with sheer, unbelievable, paralyzing shock. How did the Crown Guards know about the hidden floorboards? Only he and Lord Farrington knew about that secret space and the silks.

The realization hit him like a blow to the chest. Lord Farrington’s perfect, untouchable shield had been completely, utterly shattered.

Someone on the inside had betrayed the Earl. The absolute secrecy was gone.

Higgins looked around the large, dim room. His men were all tied up securely, kneeling on the dirty floor with heavily armed guards standing over them. He looked at the swords and the loaded guns. He looked at the open doors where he had just ordered a fortune thrown into the sea.

His fear shifted entirely. He was no longer afraid of Lord Farrington’s anger. Farrington was miles away in a comfortable manor. Right now, in this cold, dark warehouse, Higgins was staring directly at the Crown’s justice. He was staring directly at the hangman’s noose.

He made a fast, desperate, completely selfish decision to save his own life.

Higgins scrambled down to his knees. He clasped his hands tightly together in front of his chest and looked up at Captain Reynolds with pleading, watery eyes.

"Please, Captain!" Higgins cried loudly, tears of pure terror spilling down his flushed face. "Please, I will tell you everything! I will testify! Do not hang me! I am just a simple worker! He forced me to do it! He threatened my life!"

Captain Reynolds did not show a single ounce of sympathy. He looked down at the begging man with a cold, blank expression.

"Who forced you, Higgins?" Reynolds demanded, his voice hard. "Say his name aloud."

"Lord Farrington!" Higgins shouted, pointing a shaking finger at the remaining crates of tobacco. "It is all his! He pays for the illegal ships, he bribes the port officials in London, and he orders us to hide the goods here! He plans on using the Hamilton name to bring them all to London! Every single crate, every single piece of silk, belongs to Lord Farrington!"

A loud murmur of agreement went through the tied-up smugglers lined against the wall. They all began to nod vigorously, incredibly eager to pass the blame to the powerful Lord to save their own necks from the rope.

"It is true!" Silas yelled from the wall, struggling slightly against his ropes. "The Earl owns all of it! He pays us in gold coins stamped with his own family crest! He even ordered the tobacco thrown into the sea tonight."

Captain Reynolds nodded his head slowly. A deep sense of satisfaction settled in his chest. This was exactly the verbal confession the Duke of Ford and the High Chancellor needed to completely seal the case. The written ledger was the absolute proof, but a loud, spoken confession from the manager and the crew guaranteed a swift conviction.

"Sergeant," Captain Reynolds called out without looking away from the weeping Higgins.

A tall guard with bright stripes on his sleeve stepped forward quickly and saluted sharply. "Yes, Captain."

"Take a squad of men to the back office," Reynolds ordered smoothly. He pointed toward a small, closed wooden door at the very back of the warehouse. "Pry up the wooden floorboards exactly as the Duke’s letter described. Find the hidden French silks and the rotten tobacco, secure them as physical evidence for the Crown."

"Right away, sir," the Sergeant replied. He signaled to four guards, and they marched quickly toward the back office, carrying heavy iron crowbars.

Reynolds looked back down at Higgins. "Stand up."

Higgins slowly got to his feet. His knees were shaking so badly he could barely stand straight. He kept his head bowed low in total submission.

"You have made a very wise, very necessary choice to confess, Mr. Higgins," Reynolds said coldly. He gestured to two guards standing nearby. "Take him. Bind his hands securely. He will repeat this exact, full confession in front of the royal magistrates and the High Chancellor in London."

The guards stepped forward and grabbed Higgins roughly by his arms. They pulled his hands behind his back and tied them tightly with thick rope. Higgins whimpered softly, but he did not resist. He let his head fall forward, completely defeated.

Within minutes, the loud, harsh sounds of cracking wood and screeching nails came from the back office. The Sergeant returned to the main room, carrying a beautiful, shimmering roll of highly expensive, untaxed French silk. The rich fabric caught the lantern light beautifully. He held it up for the Captain to see.

"It is exactly where the letter said it would be, Captain," the Sergeant reported, his face showing deep, genuine respect for the incredibly accurate information. "There are dozens of rolls hidden beneath the floor."

Captain Reynolds nodded his head. The trap had closed perfectly. There were absolutely no loose ends.

He turned to address the entire room of tied-up smugglers.

"Listen to me carefully," Reynolds spoke loudly, ensuring every man heard his words. "This entire warehouse, and absolutely everything inside it, is now the official property of the Crown. You will all be transported to London under heavy guard to face the royal magistrates for your crimes."

He turned to his second-in-command, a young lieutenant standing near the open front doors.

"Lieutenant," Reynolds ordered firmly. "Send our absolute fastest rider back to the city immediately. Tell him to ride hard and not to stop until he reaches Mayfair."

The lieutenant stood at strict attention. "What is the message, Captain?"

Captain Reynolds looked at the captured smugglers, the recovered silk, the rotten tobacco and the terrified manager. He smiled a very small, very cold smile.

"Tell the High Chancellor," Reynolds said clearly, "and tell the Duke of Ford... that the information provided was absolutely perfect. We have the illegal goods, we have the men, and we have the full confession. We have them all."

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant nodded sharply. He turned and ran out into the thick fog, jumping onto a waiting, fast horse and galloping away into the dark night.

Inside the warehouse, the Crown Guards began pushing the tied-up smugglers toward the doors. They led them out into the freezing, misty night, marching them up the steep path toward the heavily guarded prison carriages.