In The Beginning by Gail Daley (top 100 books of all time checklist .TXT) 📕

driver on the shoulder. "Make a sharp turn at the next corner, and turn down that alley to the right."

"But it is a longer way," the man protested.

"I will pay you the extra charge to do as I ask," she assured him.

The new route took them into the back of a stable, where she told the driver to turn and start back. "Walk slowly," she said. About halfway back down the alley, she ordered him to stop and wait.

In a hurry now, Franks was nearly running. As they watched, he dashed past the mouth of the alley, swinging his head back and forth in search of his quarry.

"Is that who I think it is?" Giselle asked Iris.

"Yes, it’s Max Franks."

"The man from the docks who wanted to accompany us to the hotel," Jeanne exclaimed.

Iris sighed. "Carlos claimed he was up to no good. I think he might be right."

They watched Franks for a few minutes as he tried to see where they had gone. Finally, he turned and went back the way he had come.

"Excellent. You may proceed, driver. Go left when we come out of the alley, and go around the block to the hotel."

"You didn’t warn me you were being followed," the driver complained. "Is this man dangerous? If he is, I should get paid more."

Iris laughed, "Not dangerous, just annoying."

When a tired Franks returned to the hotel after several hours of fruitless searching, he was disgusted to find that his targets had returned earlier.

He handed the front desk clerk his card to take up to the suite and was met with the flat statement that the ladies were tired and not receiving visitors this evening. Angrily, he took the clerk at his word, and stomped off to his room in the lower priced establishment down the street.

Having accomplished his errands, Samuel, now calling himself Tom, joined his fiancée and her family for the quiet dinner Giselle ordered sent up to their rooms.

Franks tried to see Iris again the next day and was denied when he couldn’t produce an invitation to the private event being held. The wedding of Jeanne to Samuel took place in the parlor of the hotel suite.

Riding a bad temper, Franks followed the four of them to the train depot. He didn't like it when his plans didn't work out as expected. Arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against the depot porch, watching sourly as Jeanne hugged her grandmother and sister goodbye.

Waiting on the platform for the train to pull out, Giselle was hailed by another old acquaintance.

"So, your baby sister married Sam Johnson," Franks drawled as he came up beside Iris.

She looked a little startled but responded gamely. "I’m afraid you are mistaken. My sister has married a farmer named Tom Clancy."

"That’s a good line, honey," Franks said with a mean smile, "but I’m pretty well acquainted with the Johnsons and I know the boys by sight."

Iris was frightened, but she wasn’t Mike St. Vyr’s daughter for nothing. She straightened her spine and replied, "I can’t help your poor eyesight. The preacher will be filing the papers this afternoon at the registry office. I assure you Jeanne is now Mrs. Tom Clancy."

She turned away, but he caught her arm in a bruising grip. "Don’t run away, little bird. How much is it worth to you for me not to tell Sam’s papa where he’s gone and who his new wife is?"

Iris jerked her arm out of his grasp. "You—"

"It might be worth something," Giselle interceded smoothly. "Why don’t you accompany us back to the hotel so we can discuss it?"

"I have nothing to say to you, old woman," Franks sneered, trying to get hold of Iris again, but she stepped back out of his reach. "My business is with your granddaughter here."

Giselle lifted her shoulders. "If you change your mind, we will be in our suite this evening. Good day, sir. Come Iris." Slipping her hand through her granddaughter’s elbow, she turned away.

Franks glared at their backs as he heard Giselle give the order to return to the hotel.

"What are we going to do?" Iris whispered. "If he tells Ira Johnson where they went—"

Giselle patted her arm. "I have a plan. Is he following us?"

Iris cast a quick look back over her shoulder. "He’s trying to get a rickshaw. It doesn’t look as if there’s an open one, though so he’s trying to make a driver take him anyway. Oops! That man in the red shirt just yanked him back out and Franks hit him. Here comes the station constable. I think he’s going to be tied up for a while."

"Excellent, that will take some time if the station guards are involved." Giselle leaned forward and tapped their driver. "We need to make a stop at the Roman Stable before we return to the hotel."

Joe Wong, who owned the stable, was a short, tough-looking man about Giselle’s age who greeted her with affection.

"So, this is one of your beautiful granddaughters," he said. "It is a real pleasure to meet so lovely a child."

"This is Iris, Astrid’s girl. You remember Astrid was my son’s second wife."

A sad expression crossed his face. "Yes, I believe you wrote Amy that she was killed by raiders. This is a hard land." He looked at Giselle shrewdly, "But you would not come to the stable unless you needed something. If you only wanted to visit, you would come to the house. What is it you need?"

"I could never fool you or Amy," Giselle admitted. "We do have trouble, and I’m hoping you can advise me on the best course of action."

He opened his office door and gestured for them to enter. "Jim!" he called, "I do not wish to be disturbed for a time."

"Okay, boss," said a tall, skinny kid, cleaning out a stall.

Over cups of heavily sweetened tea, Joe listened in silence while Giselle told him the rest of the story. For several minutes afterward, he sat running a string of beads through his hands. "You