He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and nodded. “I do. He and O’Meara are in league together. When the Admiralty’s plans went missing, suspicion fell on a man named John Finlaison who was keeper of their records at the time, but nothing was ever proved. It turns out that Finlaison is a good friend of O’Meara’s. They corresponded regularly the entire time the doctor was stationed on St. Helena.”

“Aha! So O’Meara got hold of the plans and contacted Johnstone to build him a new submarine?”

“Precisely.”

Georgie tilted her head toward the papers and frowned. “But this design is extremely challenging, even for an experienced shipwright. It would take months to construct. You have plenty of time to find your man.”

Wylde shook his head. “Ah, but here’s the rub, as Shakespeare would say. Johnstone doesn’t have to build a whole new vessel. He only has to finish the one he started a few years ago.”

Georgie blinked. “What?”

“The Admiralty didn’t destroy Johnstone’s second model. It was put in dry dock in one of the navy’s warehouses—and then lost.”

“Lost? How does one lose a submarine?”

He chuckled. “I believe the actual phrase Admiral Cockburn used was ‘temporarily unaccounted for,’ but it’s the same thing. When the plans were stolen, they sent someone to check on it, but it wasn’t where it was supposed to be.”

Georgie let out a slow breath. “You think Johnstone and O’Meara have stolen it, don’t you?”

“That would be my guess.”

She sat back in a whoosh of skirts. “But this is unbelievable!”

His devilish grin brought out the roguish dimple on his cheek. “Isn’t it just?”

They sat in a companionable silence for a few moments, contemplating the unusual situation, then Georgie said, “It’s rather ironic, don’t you think, that someone is planning to rescue the French emperor with a British-made submarine designed by an American?”

He gave a world-weary shrug. “War’s like that. Nothing makes sense. Things always come back to bite you in the arse.”

She smiled at his cynical assessment. “So, what’s to be done? I assume Bow Street wants you to prevent any rescue attempt?”

He nodded. “Indeed. Unfortunately, being a smuggler, Johnstone is an expert at avoiding the authorities. I’ve been chasing him for months with no luck—that’s how I ended up in Newgate.”

She sent him a teasing smile. “We have him to thank for our introduction, then?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I suppose so. I’ll thank him, if we ever meet. Bow Street has men following O’Meara now, but he’ll be wary of leading us to Johnstone.” He exhaled slowly, and Georgie stifled the urge to lean over and kiss the scowl off his handsome face. He looked adorably frustrated.