“It all started the night of the murder. I mean, of course, the attempted murder. We made our way into the theater. My men were waiting for the go-ahead. It was all set. As I took my place on the balcony directly facing the regent, I noticed I needed more bullets. I called over to Ben to give me some new casings and that’s when everything went to hell in a hand-basket. The guards became aware of our presence and began shooting at us.”

“And Ben?” my father gently prodded.

I sighed, still feeling the old bullet wound in my side gnaw at me. “Dead. He was shot in the back. Didn’t live through the night.”

“I’m sorry, Casey, I really am. It’s a wonder you boys didn’t get caught. Regicide’s a serious matter. A hangin’ matter.”

“Don’t tell me you disapprove. You saw how the people in France took control, how the monarchy, which was only ever a sham, became a democracy. Not through paperwork and red tape, but through real action, blood, sweat and tears. It’s high time we took that kind of action in England.”