The Daredevil Snared. Stephanie Laurens

up from his scribbling. He watched Diccon skip off to another fruit tree, then murmured, “Once Dubois’s men come back from the coast, from wherever they handed over the diamonds, we should try that path for ourselves. If it eventually leads to the settlement as the others suspect, we can fetch more supplies.”

      Caleb grunted an agreement. “If we’re going to remain here for the next seven or so weeks, we’ll need more food, especially as we can’t light a fire and can’t hunt, either.”

      Hornby, Caleb’s steward, was in charge of meals. He summoned them all to the bounty he and several others had prepared—fruit, nuts, and dried mutton.

      Caleb mumbled around a mouthful of the chewy meat, “At least it doesn’t have weevils.”

      Phillipe just pulled a face, but Diccon smiled sunnily and reached for another strip.

      Two hours later, Diccon declared he had enough fruit in his basket, and after exchanging farewells with all the men, he wandered off to return to the compound.

      Eventually, Caleb and Phillipe swapped their reports and read over each other’s efforts.

      Caleb reached the end of Phillipe’s precise description of the various possible approaches a rescue force might take to reach the compound, along with the pitfalls and advantages of each route. “This is as good as it could be. I can’t see anything you’ve missed.” He placed the report on the satchel he was using to collect all the documents destined for London. “It’ll all depend on what sort of force they deploy—and if they work with Decker or not.”