were only a small part of Sidney's collection, they were the most rare and valuable pieces, and Sidney winced as the big man reached to take down a silver seventeenth-century mace from its wall rack.
Normally, Sidney would have requested that his guest refrain from fondling his collection, but the laconic Mr. Ringo was not a man he wished to offend. He measured an impressive six and a half feet tall. With arms as thick as stovepipes, Mr. Ringo could no doubt snap a man's neck with one hand.
Jasper blew a perfect smoke ring. "The boy saw his face. That is a problem that will not resolve itself. And it's not only Mr. Ringo's security that's on the line, it's ours. There are people who know of his association with us. We cannot risk the possibility that he'll be indicted on murder charges."
Sidney forced a smile and turned his palms up innocently. "But it won't ever come to that, Jasper. Don’t you see? The boy doesn't want to testify. He ran away with his sister."
"The boy's father was blown to kingdom come before his eyes. Even if he's too frightened to testify now, who's to say his feelings won't change when he grows older? Mr. Ringo was only following orders. It's not fair to him or any of us to leave him exposed. If he goes down, we all go down."
Sidney glanced uneasily at Alphonse Ringo. The big man had just been following orders. Jasper's orders. His loyalty to Jasper was as certain and unmovable as a mountain.
Stifling a shudder, Sidney turned to fix his attention on the lavish oil painting which hung over the marble fireplace. That painting, The Final Parting of Guinevere and Lancelot , featured the two tortured figures holding hands and weeping over the death of King Arthur. He had commissioned the painting over ten years ago. The face of Guinevere had been inspired by a faded daguerreotype he still kept in a desk drawer next to an old Cavalry Colt revolver, a picture that he perhaps should have burned a long time ago. Emmaline.
Sidney took a deep breath. "I told you I could handle my brother, but you didn't listen. Then things went wrong. Witnesses were left behind. You saw fit to use my name to hire the Pinkertons to find them, and now—"
"And now they're found, aren't they?"
"Yes," Sidney allowed, "and now that they are, I'm asking you again to let me handle this in my own way."
Jasper ground out his cigar in a silver ashtray. "Sidney, the Round Table has met on the subject. It's already too late."
The Round Table . Sidney had once coined the term in jest and Jasper had snapped it up. The Round Table, in this instance, had nothing to do with kings or knights or anything remotely connected with honor. It was a group of wealthy, unscrupulous men who grew more powerful as time passed. They spent their days manipulating mining stocks and their evenings frequenting fancy receptions. The men who made up the Round Table had "friends" all over; in the police department, the local judiciary, and City Hall. And now, they had their own serious candidate for the mayor's office, none other than Phineas Taylor.
That candidate narrowed his eyes at Jasper. "What do you mean, it's already too late? They're not scheduled to arrive for another four days."
"One of our people has been dispatched and will board the eight forty connection at Promontory."
"You can't just do this without discussing it with me. "
"Can't we?" Jasper's eyes had grown cold.
"This is my family we’re talking about!"
"You're too emotional to be objective. We'll take care of it."
When he stood, Jasper Barnes barely touched five and a half feet in height. By contrast, the top of Mr. Ringo's black bowler hat just missed brushing the ceiling. If Sidney hadn't been so disgusted, he might have found the sight of them standing side by side comical.
"I suggest," Jasper offered with a wink, "that you practice your speech for tomorrow's campaign rally." As he turned to leave, he plucked up his cane from the arm of his chair. "And, by all means, try
Normally, Sidney would have requested that his guest refrain from fondling his collection, but the laconic Mr. Ringo was not a man he wished to offend. He measured an impressive six and a half feet tall. With arms as thick as stovepipes, Mr. Ringo could no doubt snap a man's neck with one hand.
Jasper blew a perfect smoke ring. "The boy saw his face. That is a problem that will not resolve itself. And it's not only Mr. Ringo's security that's on the line, it's ours. There are people who know of his association with us. We cannot risk the possibility that he'll be indicted on murder charges."
Sidney forced a smile and turned his palms up innocently. "But it won't ever come to that, Jasper. Don’t you see? The boy doesn't want to testify. He ran away with his sister."
"The boy's father was blown to kingdom come before his eyes. Even if he's too frightened to testify now, who's to say his feelings won't change when he grows older? Mr. Ringo was only following orders. It's not fair to him or any of us to leave him exposed. If he goes down, we all go down."
Sidney glanced uneasily at Alphonse Ringo. The big man had just been following orders. Jasper's orders. His loyalty to Jasper was as certain and unmovable as a mountain.
Stifling a shudder, Sidney turned to fix his attention on the lavish oil painting which hung over the marble fireplace. That painting, The Final Parting of Guinevere and Lancelot , featured the two tortured figures holding hands and weeping over the death of King Arthur. He had commissioned the painting over ten years ago. The face of Guinevere had been inspired by a faded daguerreotype he still kept in a desk drawer next to an old Cavalry Colt revolver, a picture that he perhaps should have burned a long time ago. Emmaline.
Sidney took a deep breath. "I told you I could handle my brother, but you didn't listen. Then things went wrong. Witnesses were left behind. You saw fit to use my name to hire the Pinkertons to find them, and now—"
"And now they're found, aren't they?"
"Yes," Sidney allowed, "and now that they are, I'm asking you again to let me handle this in my own way."
Jasper ground out his cigar in a silver ashtray. "Sidney, the Round Table has met on the subject. It's already too late."
The Round Table . Sidney had once coined the term in jest and Jasper had snapped it up. The Round Table, in this instance, had nothing to do with kings or knights or anything remotely connected with honor. It was a group of wealthy, unscrupulous men who grew more powerful as time passed. They spent their days manipulating mining stocks and their evenings frequenting fancy receptions. The men who made up the Round Table had "friends" all over; in the police department, the local judiciary, and City Hall. And now, they had their own serious candidate for the mayor's office, none other than Phineas Taylor.
That candidate narrowed his eyes at Jasper. "What do you mean, it's already too late? They're not scheduled to arrive for another four days."
"One of our people has been dispatched and will board the eight forty connection at Promontory."
"You can't just do this without discussing it with me. "
"Can't we?" Jasper's eyes had grown cold.
"This is my family we’re talking about!"
"You're too emotional to be objective. We'll take care of it."
When he stood, Jasper Barnes barely touched five and a half feet in height. By contrast, the top of Mr. Ringo's black bowler hat just missed brushing the ceiling. If Sidney hadn't been so disgusted, he might have found the sight of them standing side by side comical.
"I suggest," Jasper offered with a wink, "that you practice your speech for tomorrow's campaign rally." As he turned to leave, he plucked up his cane from the arm of his chair. "And, by all means, try
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