The rebels were all heading toward Greenwich Square, where the airship was still unloading soldiers. I doubted they were going to give the new arrivals a friendly welcome. Fighting could start at any moment. I knew Lord Henry would understand if I couldn’t carry out his errand. He had even instructed me not to put myself in danger, but it shouldn’t take too long and I was several blocks from where the fighting would be. I didn’t want him to think me a coward, and I wanted to prove to myself that I was still committed to the cause. Clutching the parcel tighter, I hurried on to the bookshop.

The windows of the bookshop were even more papered over than before. In addition to all the political posters, there were several advertising a theatrical extravaganza the night of the ball at an address I recognized as the Mechanics’ theater. I suspected it was a diversion to occupy the soldiers. If the officers were at the ball and many of the soldiers were at the theater, it would be the ideal time for the rebels to raid British facilities.

The door of the bookshop opened before I had a chance to ring the bell. The same man was there, as were several others. I recognized one of them from among the Mechanics who’d been at Battery Park. He wore their strange garb mixing work clothes and formal wear—a brocade waistcoat over a red flannel union suit and striped trousers tucked into tall boots. He had a pair of goggles pushed up onto his forehead and a squashed top hat with a giant gem in the middle of the hatband resting on the back of his head.

As soon as I was inside, the yellow-haired man snatched the parcel away from me. “We were wondering if we’d ever see this,” he muttered. “It’s been days. Were there difficulties?”

“I told you before, I’m just a courier,” I said stiffly. “And now, if you don’t mind, I would like to purchase some books.”

“Purchase some books?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“This is a bookshop, is it not?”

“She needs to buy something to have an excuse for having been here,” the Mechanic said wearily, like he was accustomed to the yellow-haired man being obtuse.

“What sort of book?” the proprietor asked.

“I don’t suppose you have any new paperback novels? I prefer adventure or detective stories. A romance will do in a pinch.”

He went to a shelf and brought out a stack of books. “You can look through these and choose which ones you want.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll take them all. Please wrap them up for me.” I handed him the banknote Henry had given me. While he counted my change, there was a loud crash outside the store. The Mechanic rushed to the window to peer out through a slit between posters.