“This conversation cannot go anywhere, Eden. She’s not going to tell us anything.” My coconspirator was growing tired of the games, or possibly just tired. Lord knew I was beat like an old rug. I would have given anything to lie down in the big bed upstairs they’d assigned me earlier, and go to sleep as I ought to have.

But there were bigger things at stake than circles under our eyes. “Eliza, what would you do if I threw this out? Flushed it down the toilet? Would you care?”

Her head jiggled ever so slightly, signifying the negative.

“Not at all?”

She did it again, more firmly. Harry was wrong. Whatever the vial contained, it was important enough to Eliza that she wanted me to think it was useless. If it had really been something ordinary, she would have left her eyes on the ceiling and kept her head stationary.

“All right, then, maybe I’ll just dump it down the sink in the kitchen.” I left her immediate vision and walked towards the door.

Eliza shrugged, and by all appearances was unconcerned. She didn’t even try to see what I was doing. Either she knew I wasn’t going to do it, or she knew she could easily get more. Or I supposed she might be bluffing. Perhaps it ran in the family. I hesitated. Or maybe Harry was right and the foul-smelling stuff was inconsequential. Hmmm. So many possibilities. There might be a way to tell.

I returned to Eliza and stood before her again. Her eyes were tilted skyward once more, and they did not come down to meet me. “Herbal stuff. Folk medicine, huh? Then I bet it doesn’t have anything more interesting in it than saw palmetto and mud. Maybe I’ll just take a drink of it myself.”

That got her attention, but she didn’t seem sure how to react. She was reluctant to give too much away; she refused to struggle against the bonds or try to call out, but she clearly had something on her mind. She brought her eyes off the ceiling and looked at me again.

“Well?” I held my breath and put the bottle to my lips.

“Urngh—” she grunted. “Urngh urgh.”

I stopped, and pulled the gag out of her mouth with two careful fingers. The rag was soaked with drool and I didn’t want to touch it. “Yes?”

She didn’t start screaming again, which was a relief; in fact, she didn’t say anything at all.

“Well?” I waggled the bottle before her. She blinked, but kept quiet. I’m not sure what I wanted her to say, but whatever my expectations, she disappointed them. “All right then, bottoms up.”

She gasped as I poured a mouthful of the stuff past my teeth.