“So you're no longer part of that group?”
“I never really was, but don't tell them that. But I do find them rather amusing, don't you? Good for a giggle, wouldn't you say?” He looked at me, eyes sparkling. “They are all so bloody earnest. They publish their little left-wing newspapers, they organize strikes and protests, they go to jail and come out feeling like martyrs—”
“But are they actually dangerous, do you think?
They're not planning to start a revolution in this country, are they?”
Ryan laughed. “America's already had one revolution. I can't see the inhabitants wanting another, can you? And we are supposed to have government for the people and by the people already. No, I think the comrades over here are more concerned with wealth. Too many rich people. Too much inequality.”
“Your friendship with Angus can't have gone down well, then.”
We exchanged grins.
“Luckily I am a law unto myself. Nobody knows what to make of me, so they keep quiet and leave well enough alone.”
We turned onto Sixth Avenue.
“You really don't have to see me all the way home,” I said. “I'm sure I'm perfectly safe from here.”
“Nonsense. I wasn't raised a gentleman for nothing. And besides, Sid and tJus might still be up and could be persuaded to make me a cup of coffee. I still have the taste of that disgusting tea in my mouth.”
Ryan's mention of Sid and Gus had me thinking— Ryan had said that those people we had just met were involved in extremist newspapers and women's rights. Sid had told me she wrote articles on women's rights for certain journals. Was it possible that she was somehow involved with them? And as we picked our way through the debris around Jefferson Market, yet another thought came into my head. Until now I had not been able to suspect Ryan of any involvement in Paddy's Riley's death, because he had seemed so lovable and harmless. Now I saw that he also had a dark side. That cryptic remark, “Saw RO with LC at O'Cs” and the words that followed it showed that Paddy thought he was dangerous. And Paddy had lived only a day after writing those words.
Twenty–Two
I didn't sleep well that night. As I lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the muted noises of the city, I still couldn't believe that Ryan was involved in anything dangerous and subversive. I wasn't even sure that he was the RO mentioned in Paddy's notes. He obviously wasn't closely connected to the group we had met tonight. Some of them didn't even know who he was. So why was I lying awake and worrying?
I got up and paced the floor. Ryan couldn't be involved in anything dangerous. It just wasn't like him. Sid and Gus had described him as a little boy who played with one toy, then dropped it for a new one. Even if he had had a fleeting interest in anarchism and had toyed with the idea of blowing up Queen Victoria, it would have been just a passing fantasy.
“Is something wrong, Molly dearest?” Sid asked me as I sat at breakfast next morning. “You look as if you carry a burden on your shoulders.”
“I didn't sleep well last night,” I admitted.
She nodded wisely. “An evening with Ryan can do that to a person.” She leaned across and rested her hand on my sleeve. “Look, Molly, I know it's none of my business, but you're not thinking of falling for him, are you? Because if you are, I'd like to save you from possible heartbreak. For one thing, Ryan isn't exactly—” She broke off, considering how to phrase it.
“Interested in girls?” I finished for her. “Yes, I know that.”
“That doesn't mean that he isn't a terrible flirt with anything that walks on two legs,” Sid went on. “He knows how to flatter and make a person feel wonderful. I just don't want you entertaining false hopes.”
“Thank you, Sid, but I don't,” I said. “I find Ryan quite delightful company, but I know him to be quite fickle.”
“Fickle is a good word for it.” She nodded again, seriously, and leaned forward to pour herself a thimble-sized cup of coffee.
“Do you think I run a risk by being associated with him, then?” I phrased the question as cautiously as possible.
“Only that Ryan uses people as playthings. If you are this week's favorite, you will surely be discarded by next week.”
“So you don't think that Ryan might have … a dangerous side?”
She looked amused. “Jack the Ripper in disguise? Whatever made you ask that?”
I attempted a laugh. “He seems too good to be true.”
“As long as you don't trust him any further than you could throw him, you'll be just fine. And as I said, by next week he'll have forgotten all about you, unless he wants something.”