“Who saw the bastard?” Kaederman asked eagerly. “Where?”
“An inquiry agent,” Malcolm said smoothly. “We ran across the chap this afternoon. Runs a small agency out of Middlesex Street. He’s done work for hire before, on behalf of Spaldergate.”
“What did he say? How did he find Armstrong?”
Malcolm poured brandy as he explained. “Essentially, he was hired by an irate merchant to discover who’d been passing counterfeit banknotes.”
“Counterfeit banknotes?” Kaederman’s brows twitched upward in startlement.
“Indeed. It seems the money changer he used on station was somewhat less than scrupulously honest. She slipped a number of counterfeit banknotes in amongst the genuine article. Just before Skeeter Jackson left the station, the money changer asked Mr. Jackson to look into it for her. She was afraid Jenna Caddrick might have been arrested for passing counterfeit money. We’d hired this particular inquiry agent before, looking for Benny Catlin, so this afternoon I hunted him up. Mr. Shannon had been hired recently by a local merchant, trying to trace a foreigner passing fake banknotes. The merchant was irate, wanted to find the counterfeiter to recover substantial losses.”
Sid Kaederman laughed quietly, utterly delighted, judging from the glint in his eyes. “Imagine Armstrong’s shock when he discovers he was swindled by a money changer!”
Malcolm frowned. “You appear to misapprehend this situation. Counterfeiting is a serious charge, Kaederman. If we don’t get to Armstrong before the police, he will be in more trouble than we’ll be able to get him out of—and God knows what that will mean in terms of recovering his hostages. We must move quickly. Mr. Shannon has identified him and only a substantial bribe kept him from reporting what he’s learned to his client and the police.”