The words poured out of Carter in a desperate, gushing torrent.
"Robert was set up, by Magyar and us. He's being held in our apartment prison in the Lower East Side. We were going to use Rachel to threaten him, to make him give up his hidden gold."
"The whole plan was Magyar's idea. He knew Robert had money stashed away, and he wanted Rachel for himself."
"How do I get into the prison?" Henry asked, his voice cold. "What's the layout? What's the password?"
"There's no password," Carter gasped. "It's our boss Solow's territory. He has thirty or so gunmen there, armed with pistols and rifles."
"I thought your boss was Mike?"
"Mike is the big boss. He has twelve capos under him. Solow is one of them."
"Does Mike know about the plan to frame Robert?"
"I don't know for sure. But he must. Robert has his own connections. You'd need the top boss's approval to go after a man like that."
"Tell me the locations of all the capos' headquarters, including Mike's."
"Mike's place is at the Five Points, the Phoenix Brothers Hotel…"
Carter was a high-ranking member, and he knew a lot. For several minutes, he spilled the secrets of the Whyos Gang's entire operation.
When he was finished, Henry delivered a single, sharp hook to his jaw, knocking him unconscious.
He then woke Magyar and two of the other outlaws and repeated the interrogation. Their stories all matched. Satisfied, he drew his rapier and, with twelve swift, clean thrusts, sent all of them to their final judgment.
After collecting their weapons and wallets, he stored the twelve bodies and left the apartment, locking the door behind him.
He met the two women at the carriage.
"I know where they're holding Mr. Robert," he said. "I'm going now to get him. Alice, you and Rachel will go to the Astor House and wait for me."
"I'll tell Leon to arrange another room for Rachel. The farmstead is no longer safe."
"Don't worry about me. After I've rescued Mr. Robert, I'll have a talk with the Whyos. I'll be back when it's settled."
"Leon," he said to the driver, "take the ladies to the Astor House. See that they are given a room. You will follow Miss Alice's instructions for the rest of the day. Go now."
"Yes, Mr. Bruce," the driver replied, and the carriage departed.
Henry waited for the carriage to disappear, then slipped into an alley. He changed into a pair of jeans and a blue canvas shirt, put on his work boots and a flat cap, and reapplied his beard and mustache. He summoned his brown quarter horse and rode for 18th Street in the Lower East Side.
Twenty minutes later, he arrived at an old, four-story apartment building. It was in a slightly cleaner part of the slums. Five of Solow's thugs were loitering outside the entrance. They watched him warily as he approached.
He rode right up to the door. "I'm a messenger from Carter in Midtown," he announced. "I have a report for Mr. Solow."
One of the thugs, a man with a thick beard, nodded. "Wait here," he said, and went inside.
Two minutes later, he returned. "Mr. Solow is waiting for you on the second floor. Get off your horse. Hands up. You'll be searched."
Henry dismounted and raised his hands. Two of the thugs frisked him.
"Alright," the bearded man said. "Follow me. We'll watch your horse for you."
Henry used a grey pearl to restore his health, then followed the man inside. The doors to all six of the ground-floor apartments were open; he could see men playing cards inside.
They went up to the second floor. Four more burly guards stood outside the door at the end of the hall. They searched him again.
Just as they were about to open the door, Henry moved.
Two daggers appeared in his hands. In a flash of motion, he drew the blades across the throats of the four guards and their escort, then plunged the daggers into their hearts.
He waited for half a minute. Four new white pearls and one grey appeared in his vision. He stored the five bodies, then pushed the door open and walked into the room.
A portly, middle-aged man looked up from behind a large desk.
Henry closed the door. A double-action revolver appeared in his hand, its black muzzle aimed at the man's head.
"Solow? Hands up."
"Who are you?" the man asked, a look of pure confusion on his face.
A throwing knife flew from Henry's left hand, burying itself in Solow's right shoulder.
"Agh!" the man cried out in pain.
"I ask, you answer," Henry said, his voice cold. "You hesitate again, the next one goes in your throat."
Solow, his face pale with pain and terror, nodded as his left hand fumbled for an alarm button under his desk.
A second knife shot out, pinning his left shoulder to the back of his chair.
Henry strode forward, the revolver in his right hand replaced by the long, elegant blade of his rapier, its tip resting coldly against Solow's throat.
"You try another trick, and this blade will go through your neck and out the back of your skull. Now. Where is Robert?"