In the Commodore's Hands. Mary Nichols
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with our little adventure.’
‘No, I can see he would not.’
‘You cannot know how much this means to me, Jay. The prospect of going back to England, and not as a renegade but one of the family, fills me with happy anticipation.’
Jay smiled. ‘We have a few hurdles to overcome before that happens. The next twenty-four hours are crucial.’
‘I know, but I do not doubt you can do it.’
‘I pray I may be worthy of your trust.’ He stood up. ‘I think I’ll take a stroll round the town until Sam comes back. It might give me some ideas. If mademoiselle returns while I’m gone, try to reassure her.’
The town was quiet. The trade it had once done had faded to almost nothing and the people were suffering. It was strange that they did not seem to blame the new regime for this, but the King and his nobility. He did not doubt he was not the only smuggler; so far as he could tell there was a lively trade in forbidden goods in and out. The authorities did nothing about that, being more concerned with putting people like Comte Giradet in gaol.
He studied the layout of the town and watched its inhabitants. Most were in the garb of the Revolution, though some were a little better dressed. And there were a few blue-uniformed National Guard patrolling the streets on foot. Occasionally they searched someone’s shopping basket, and arrested one old man because he had real tobacco in his pocket. Jay did not see the National Guard as a great threat to his plans—the maréchaussée
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