“But you will pass it on?”

“Oh yes. I will.”

We stared at each other. At that moment, I felt we might’ve just done something great.

But there was no time to bask. “I need to take care of something alone, but I’ll be back at Underhill’s before sunup, and then I’ll need your help,” I said. “I can’t go home. I have to leave New York. I thought I might go to Anna Strong’s.”

“I will help you any way I can, as I’m certain will Anna, but you have me worried.”

“I have to go, Robert. But I’ll see you soon. Trust me.”

“I do.”

“You didn’t always.”

His eyes sparkled behind his glasses. “You’ve worn me down.”

I smiled. Then I snatched up my petticoats in one hand and my purse in the other and ran toward the shipyard. I didn’t slow down until I reached the ropewalk.

Sewel was waiting at the river’s edge with a skiff. He chipped at the gravel by his feet with an oar, like all of creation made him angry. Beyond him, a thick fog cloaked the river. Illuminated by moonlight, it looked strange. Almost glowing.

“Well, Francisca,” Sewel said as I walked up. He propped the oar against the skiff and spread his arms. “Here I am. What devilment have you got planned for me?”

My knees felt soft. My heart like a rattle. But I had to see this through.

I pulled the white stocking from my purse. “See this?” I swallowed, searching for strength in my voice. “It’s filled with jewels. This is what you want. Isn’t it?”

He crossed his thick arms. “Perhaps.”

“You get in that skiff and I’ll toss it to you—but only if you promise you’ll leave. You cross this river and never come after me again, Sewel. Never.”

“That really filled with jewels?”

“More than you could hope to see in your sorry life.”

As the silence stretched, I sensed the greed rising in him. The mountains of rum and tobacco he was thinking could be his. “I take that and go away—that’s your offer?”

“That’s right.”

“Hmm.” He nodded. “I could do that. But what am I supposed to do with Asa Latimer’s body?”

I bolted to the skiff, crashing against the gunwale. A figure lay in the well, covered in blankets. “No!”

Sewel rushed up behind me. Before I could react, he heaved me over, throwing me on top of the blankets, which gave way beneath me. I clawed at them, tearing the dark wool aside.

Straw.

Not Asa.

A sob broke from my lips.

The skiff jolted. I spun. Sewel had his shoulder bent to it as he drove it off the gravel and into the river—taking me with it.

He vaulted aboard agilely, like a man half his age, the skiff rocking with his weight.

I scurried back to the prow, stepping on my hem in my terror. “Where is he, Sewel?” I yelled. I dove for my purse and found the jackknife. “If you hurt him, I’ll kill you!”