by C. J. Archer
"That must be it."
After enduring a luncheon with Matt where he still seemed distracted, I confronted him when we were alone afterward. "Are you worried that we haven't heard from Brockwell yet? Or that we don't have a task of our own to accomplish?"
"It's Whittaker," he said. "I want to confront him about following us."
"We don't know for certain it was him."
"It can't hurt to ask."
I wasn't so sure we should confront him. Sir Charles and Lord Coyle were slippery fish. Suspecting them of spying was one thing, but getting them to admit it was quite another.
Matt gathered my hands in both of his and raised them to his lips. "Whittaker admitted that he's spying on magicians. It's no great leap to assume he's spying on you, despite his denial."
"I suppose."
"He needs to know we're aware of him following us. It's the only way to get him to stop."
"Or he might be more careful not to get caught next time."
Matt would not be swayed from the idea of confronting him so we set out again that afternoon. "There," he said, peering through the back window. "I'm sure that black Clarence, three behind, has been with us ever since we turned out of Park Street."
The Clarence didn't follow us all the way to Sir Charles's Hammersmith house but veered off one street before. I tended to agree with Matt that we were certainly being followed, but wasn't convinced it was Sir Charles.
"We'll know for certain if he's not at home now, but will arrive shortly after we knock, walking from that direction." He nodded toward the end of the street.
My breath caught. "My God," I whispered. "Every time we've come here, he hasn't been home, but has arrived on foot soon afterward."
Matt looked rather smug.
"He is following us," I went on. "When he sees that we're on our way to visit him, he alights from his carriage around the corner and walks here just in time to catch us before we leave. And you knew."
"I've only just guessed. This will confirm it." He knocked on the front door of the row house.
True to form, the housekeeper announced that Sir Charles wasn't at home, but as we turned to go, he hailed us from the pavement.
"Good afternoon," he said cheerfully. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
"We'd like a word." Matt sounded cheerful too. It set me on edge.
"Do come in."
"This won't take long." Matt waited for the housekeeper to return inside then his features set into hard planes with severe edges. "Stop following India."
Sir Charles pressed a hand to his chest over his heart. "I can assure you I'm not."
"Don't lie to us. You've been caught. If I catch you again, you will get another visit from me. It won't be as polite as this one."
Sir Charles laughed nervously. "Come now, Glass, what is this? Let's be friends again."
"We were never friends. And do not feign innocence."
"I am innocent!"
Matt grasped Sir Charles by the front of his jacket and pulled him closer. He towered over him and was certainly the more powerful of the two. It was no wonder Whittaker swallowed audibly.
"Do not follow India again." Matt shook Sir Charles, causing Sir Charles's bowler hat to tilt. "Do you understand?"
"Matt," I said carefully. "The housekeeper is watching through the window."
Matt let Sir Charles go, shoving him for good measure. "This is your final warning."
Sir Charles took another step back, out of Matt's reach, and smoothed down his scrunched jacket. "I—I'm simply following her to gain some information about your investigation into Cocker's murder."
"Why? Because you killed him?"
"No! The outcome interests us."
"Us?" I prompted. "Do you mean the collectors?"
He nodded without taking his eyes off Matt. "I didn't kill him. Nor did anyone else in our little group. What possible reason could we have for killing a magician?"
His point was valid, but I didn't trust him. There could be another motive we hadn't thought about.
"May I go inside now?" Sir Charles asked, regaining some of his composure.
"Be sure to tell Coyle that you've been warned not to follow India," Matt said. "The warning applies to him as well."
"I told you last time, all my research is for the whole of the club, not just Coyle." He removed his hat and smoothed a hand over his sleek hair. "May I enter now?"
Matt stepped aside and Sir Charles strode past, head high.
"I don't believe him when he says he's spying on behalf of all of the club members," I said as we returned to the carriage. Mrs. Delancey had told me about the time she'd overheard Sir Charles and Coyle discussing Mr. Hendry. The information was news to her, and wasn't shared with the other members. It wouldn't surprise me if Sir Charles and Lord Coyle were still keeping secrets from them.
Matt eyed the door through which Sir Charles had gone. "I don't trust him, either."
Cyclops was at home when we returned, and he was not alone. Both Ronnie and Catherine were with him. Ronnie paced the drawing room floor, chewing on his thumbnail, while Catherine spoke quietly with Cyclops on the sofa. They sat very close, their knees almost touching.
Cyclops shifted away when we entered. "Here she is," he announced. "India, we need your help."
Ronnie stopped pacing and released a deep breath.
Catherine rose and took my hand in hers. "I hope you don't mind us dropping in like this."
"Not at all," I said. "Is the tea still warm?" I went to pour cups for Matt and me, but he refused.
"I have a letter to write," he said.
His thoughts must still be on Sir Charles, Lord Coyle and their club. He'd promised me he wouldn't confront anyone else today, but I wasn't sure writing a letter to Coyle was a good idea.
"It's not to him," he said, reading my mind. "Just my lawyer." He kissed my forehead, excused himself, and left.
"Tell me what's wrong," I said to Cyclops as I sat with my tea. "You all look worried."
"I'm tied up in knots," Ronnie said, resuming his pacing. "I'm going to fail the guild's entry test, India. I know I am."
"You have to calm down," I told him. "You're going to find studying difficult if you're tightly wound like this."
"It's not that. They're going to cheat. It won't matter how much I study, they're going to make it so difficult that I'll never pass."
"Catherine assured me your theoretical knowledge is very good, and your practical skill is excellent."
"It is," she said. "He should pass."
"If the test was fair," he added, stopping before me. "But we all know it won't be."
I wanted to reassure him, but he'd see right through the lie. He was right, and we all knew the test would be exceptionally difficult. There might be others on the guild's Court of Assistants who still called the Masons friends, but Abercrombie would have final say on the test's contents. I wouldn't put it past him to change the test altogether without notifying other guild members.
Ronnie suddenly dropped into a squat and grasped my arm. A little tea spilled over the rim of my cup and pooled in the saucer. "You have to do the test for me, India."
I blinked at him.
"Ronnie!" Catherine cried. "That's not what we discussed."
"You were going to ask her to help you study," Cyclops added.
"Studying won't be enough. You know that." Ronnie rubbed his palms on his trouser legs. "You know it too, India."
I certainly did. More than anyone. "It's impossible," I told him. "You'll be in a room inside the guild hall. They check you before you enter to make sure you're not carrying spare parts or notes."
"They'll check to make sure you're not India," Cyclops added with a wry twist of his lips.
"What if you snuck in after me?" Ronnie asked. "Orwell says the examiner doesn't stay in the room. Once he leaves, you can enter and assist me."
"Don't be ridiculous," Catherine bit off. "You're being a coward."
; "I'm being practical. You know they'll make it hard."
"Hard, but not impossible. You can do it, Ronnie. I know you can. Now come on, let's go home. India has too much on her plate already; she doesn't need you adding more."
Ronnie stood. "The test is scheduled for early evening on Monday, India."
Catherine grabbed her brother's hand and dragged him to the door. "Good afternoon, and thank you for helping my brother study, Nate. I'm sorry for the trouble you've gone to for him to turn around and ask this."
"No trouble," Cyclops said with an awkward smile. His eye positively sparkled.
The Mason siblings saw themselves out. I felt sorry for Ronnie. I truly did. But I couldn't do what he asked. If Mr. Abercrombie caught me, he might have me arrested for trespassing.
With more than one senior policeman on my side, it would probably come to naught. The worst Mr. Abercrombie could do would be to shout at me and fail Ronnie. It was possible Ronnie would be banned from applying for guild membership for the rest of his life. But Ronnie would likely fail anyway because of his association with me. Mr. Abercrombie would see to it.
Cyclops narrowed his gaze at me. "Stop it, India."
"Stop what?"
"Feeling guilty. It's not your fault."
I smiled weakly and sipped my tea.
Detective Inspector Brockwell finally paid us a visit later that afternoon. I'd been on tenterhooks since seeing him off after interrogating the Drapers at Earls Court. It should not have taken him this long to report on his visit to May's alibi, James Lester of Chelsea.
"It's about time," I told Matt as we waited for Bristow to show the inspector into the drawing room. We'd heard his arrival but decided not to greet him at the door, instead saving the discussion for somewhere more private.
"Of course he's coming now," Matt said. "It's almost dinner time."
I didn't know how he could treat the visit so lightly after a nerve-wracking wait. "Well?" I asked Brockwell the moment Bristow announced him. "What did Mr. Lester have to say?"
Brockwell eased himself into a chair and shifted his weight until he found a comfortable position. He stroked his sideburns and eyed the door. "Is your cousin at home, Glass?"
"She's been out all day," Matt said.
"Is that so?"
"If you're looking for someone to smoke with," I said, impatience making my voice harsh, "Matt will join you in the smoking room later."
"No, no, that's quite all right. It's too close to dinner time for a cigar."
"Would you like to stay for dinner, Inspector? If I tell Mrs. Potter now, she can put on more."
"Thank you for the kind offer, but I have plans."
"Oh?"
"With my colleagues. I'll be working this evening, searching for the Drapers."
Matt sat forward. "They've disappeared?" At Brockwell's nod, he said, "Have you alerted the railway stations? The ports?"
"And all major coach terminals. Thank you, Glass, I know how to do my job."
Matt sat back, looking skeptical, but thankfully he kept his mouth shut.
"You'd better start at the beginning," I said. "What happened with Mr. Lester?"
Brockwell removed his notebook from his inside jacket pocket and licked the tip of his finger. He flipped through the pages far too slowly for my liking until he finally found the one he needed. "Lester confirmed that he and Mrs. Draper had a liaison on the night of Cocker's murder. It was not a financial arrangement, however, the following morning, Mr. Lester found his pockets were empty and his watch gone. He confronted her that afternoon after the show, discreetly of course, but was run off by Danny. Upon seeing Danny, Mr. Lester realized he'd noticed him the night before loitering near his home. It's his belief that Mrs. Draper placed his trousers near the window then unlatched the window to allow Danny access. Danny stole the watch and money while Mrs. Draper and Mr. Lester were otherwise engaged."
Matt shook his head. "Their marital arrangement astounds me."
"Why weren't they arrested for theft at the time?" I asked.
"Mr. Lester never reported it," Brockwell said. "He was too embarrassed to admit he fell for Mrs. Draper's charms, and he says the value of the stolen items wasn't very high. It would also have been difficult to prove unless the identifiable item—namely, the watch—was found in their possession."
"The Drapers knew you would learn of the robbery after we forced May to give up her alibi," Matt said. "They've gone into hiding or left the city altogether."
"They are experts at disappearing, according to information I received via telegraph not long ago." Brockwell returned the notebook to his pocket. "They committed minor thefts in various states in America using a similar method as that used against Mr. Lester. They both went to jail but were released after serving brief sentences."
"William Cody knew it too," I said.
"Or guessed," Matt added.
Brockwell checked the time on the mantelpiece clock. "I must return to Scotland Yard to coordinate the search." He pushed himself out of the chair with a deep sigh. "It's going to be a long night."
Bristow entered with a piece of paper that he handed to Brockwell. "A constable delivered this, Inspector. He says it's urgent."
Brockwell read the paper then tucked it into his pocket. "Excellent news. She's been found."
"May?" I asked.
"Miss Dorothy Campion."
Chapter 15
"We're coming with you to speak to her," Matt said, rising.
"That might not be possible," Brockwell said.
"Don't exclude us now, after all the assistance we've given you."
"I mean it might not be possible because she's having difficulty speaking. She's in hospital. Her throat was cut and she has lost a lot of blood."
The constable gave us more details as we drove to London Hospital. Dotty had been brought to the hospital unconscious. She had no identifying documents on her, and the baker who'd found her and transported her on his cart didn't know her. She'd regained consciousness several days ago but had been very weak and unable to talk. Today she indicated she wanted to ask something, so the staff gave her a piece of paper to write on. She'd written her name and asked after Emmett Cocker. Aware of the murder from the newspapers, the staff notified police immediately. It wasn't known whether they'd informed Dotty of his death.
I wasn't looking forward to breaking the news to her. She was carrying Emmett's child, and now it looked like she wasn't responsible for his death but had been a victim too. With Danny and May Draper fleeing, it seemed more apparent than ever that they were the killers.
The familiar stark and imposing surroundings of London Hospital looked even more stark and imposing cloaked in dusk's ethereal light. I almost expected to see Willie sneaking out after a liaison with her nurse friend, but I recognized none of the staff going about their tasks with silent efficiency.
A young nurse escorted us to the women's ward, stopping at the fourth bed on the right. I hardly recognized Dotty. Her face was as white as the bandages around her throat. Her blonde hair, arranged neatly over her shoulders, was almost the same shade. The only color came from the web of blue veins on her eyelids and the dark shadows underneath. She was still beautiful, only now her beauty was fragile, ghostly.
"She's asleep," the nurse whispered.
Dotty's eyes cracked open and she managed to rasp, "No."
"Don't try to sit up," the nurse said, laying a hand on Dotty's shoulder. "This is a policeman and two of his…"
"Assistants," Brockwell filled in. He introduced himself to Dotty using his full title, but her gaze fell on me. She recognized me.
"My name is India Steele and this is Matthew Glass," I said. "I saw you at The Prince of Wales once." I sat on the bed and smiled gently at her. "We've been looking for you."
"Emmett's murder?" Dotty asked, the words barely audible.
We all moved closer to the bed to hear her. "You know," I said.
"I told her," the nurse said. "She asked so…" S
he shrugged. "Apparently she has something to tell you about it. I'll leave you now, but please don't tax her. Dotty, if talking hurts too much, use that notepad and pencil."
I took the notepad and pencil from the nightstand and offered them to Dotty.
She gave a small shake of her head. "I can manage."
"Did you witness Cocker's murder?" Brockwell asked, drawing out his own notepad and pencil.
"No," Dotty whispered. "I heard the gunshot after I left him. I returned to see if he was all right, but he wasn't. He lay on the ground, bleeding." She swallowed and winced in pain.
"Take your time," Matt said.
"Did you see who did this to you?" Brockwell pressed.
She shook her head.
"I'm going to ask you some simple questions," Matt said. "You can nod or shake your head in answer. You knew Emmett in America, didn't you?"
She nodded.
"And followed him here."
Another nod.
Matt looked to me, and I suspected he wanted me to take over and ask the more personal questions.
"We spoke with May Draper," I said. "She informed us that you're carrying Emmett's child."
Her hand fluttered at her waist. "Not anymore."
"Oh. I am so sorry."
"The murderer caused two deaths that night." With her rasping voice, it was difficult to tell if she was upset or not. Her eyes didn't water but they were distant, though that could have been a result of weakness from the blood loss.
"You came to England to tell Emmett," Matt went on. "And ask for his financial support?"
Dotty nodded.
"But he refused to help?"
She nodded again.
Matt paused so I took over. "You were angry with him yet you still loved him, didn't you?"
"It's difficult to explain," she whispered. "He wouldn't help. I needed money. The night before he died, I asked him again to support the baby."
"Again?"
"I asked him the previous night, too. He claimed he had none after paying back a large debt." She swallowed with effort. "I had to beg." Another swallow and her eyelids fluttered before focusing on me. "He finally gave me his watch to sell."