But I never finished my sentence for Geraldine turned those needles to peer closely at the tips. I rose. ‘I cannot bear to see him like that,’ she cried. ‘I would be better blind.’ And she plunged the needles in.
The left needle went about an inch and stopped, juddering against the bony back of the socket. Geraldine screamed. I ran towards her, ready to grab her hands but the right needle slid deep. It must have passed through the sphenoidal fissure to penetrate her brain.
Geraldine’s mouth gaped and she screamed again. ‘Christ God it hurts!’
She pulled.
‘No!’ I yelled. But Geraldine was beyond hearing. The left needle came out to leave a burst eyeball oozing gel, but the right was clearly jammed. She grasped it with both hands, not noticing that she had pierced her cheek with the freed needle. I got to her and grabbed her wrists, but she had a strength born of agony now and clung to the needle still embedded in her skull.
‘Geraldine! Let go.’
Her left hand came away but only to claw at my throat. I choked and pulled her hand away but she was still wrenching at the needle in her eye and wiggling it now, her skewered eye revolving in her frantic attempts to pull the needle free.
‘Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!’ In one desperate effort she drew that needle out. I heard the bone crack and I saw the eyelids part and stretch and bulge and there was a tearing sound and the needle came free but on it was skewered a horrible bloody white ball haloed in a fringe of meat, the torn cord of the optic nerve dangling at the back.
‘Oh dear God, Geraldine. Dear God!’
The door flew open behind me. ‘What in heaven’s name is all that commotion?’ Mrs Freval said, Turndap dancing round her feet. ‘Oh cruck.’
She covered her mouth and staggered back against the wall, sliding down it with a bump. And when I turned back I saw that Geraldine Hockaday, mercifully, had fainted also.
*
I dashed next door and, as luck would have it, just caught Dr Goddard coming down his front steps. He fetched his leather bag immediately and followed me in. Geraldine had come round in a frenzy of pain. She could not catch her breath even to scream. I rolled up her sleeve and held her left arm as still as I could, and Dr Altman put her back to sleep with a massive injection.
She looked so peaceful, but, watching Geraldine slumber, it was obvious that we had only postponed her suffering. Too soon she would awaken in dark agony to a world which had savagely mutilated and killed the one man she had loved. And it was then that I made my decision. This could not continue. It was time to go back to Huntley Street.
69
The Unity of Four
WE MET AT the club at ten o’clock sharp. Marjorie was already there with Sally, who was looking abashed as always, when Harriet and I went upstairs and, before we could speak, Dulcie came in. She had a simple yellow dress on, tied around her slender waist, a long saffron cloak and a thin-brimmed velvet hat, jauntily held in place by a ribbon under her chin.
‘Dulcie, you look stunning,’ I told her to general agreement.
‘Wait until you see my accessory.’ Dulcie’s eyes twinkled as she brought a neat yellow-handled pistol out of her matching handbag.
‘Do you know how to use it?’ I asked.
‘I had a French army instructor,’ she told me. ‘And I managed to wing my governess from fifty yards with this revolver.’
‘Oh, Dulcie, you are worse than Harriet.’ I laughed despite, or because of, my misgivings, and she leaned towards me. ‘That one is true,’ she murmured in my ear.
‘I’ve been in contact with Mr Chang at the Golden Dragon,’ Harriet announced, ‘and paid a retainer to keep his room free for a group of women, and told him we will be exploring the area first. If March’s hunch is correct about that poor girl, Geraldine, the owner will have informed the attacker we are coming.’
‘I need to speak to you all,’ Marjorie boomed unexpectedly. ‘I have been giving this a lot of thought and it seems to me we are being reckless. Anything could happen out there.’
‘I think we can all look after ourselves,’ Harriet said, with some justification, for she had saved my life once at great risk to her own.
‘Well, I think we should leave this man to the police.’
‘He has been left to the police for heaven knows how long now,’ Sally told her with unexpected spirit. ‘How many other girls can he destroy before we stand up to him?’
Marjorie tightened her mouth. ‘I am sorry but I cannot be a part of such a foolhardy enterprise.’ She tried but failed to stare me out. ‘You may toy with danger, Miss Middleton, but we are ladies and unused to such things. I am going to my home now and I hope you all will have the sense to go to yours.’
And with that she brushed roughly past me and down the corridor, slamming the door after her.
‘I knew she was unsound,’ Harriet said. ‘Where did she find that bonnet?’
I tried to smile. ‘Well, that has ruined our scheme,’ I said ruefully but also half-relieved, for I had a nagging feeling that Marjorie was right.
‘Why?’ Dulcie demanded. ‘I know the plan was for me to be the bait with two at each end of the alley but you and Harriet can still work as a pair and I have every faith in Sally if she does not mind working alone.’
‘I cannot allow that,’ I protested.
‘I would prefer it,’ Sally insisted. ‘I was never happy being teamed with her – much too jumpy. She would only have got in the way.’
‘We are better off without her,’ Harriet agreed. ‘She would have swooned the moment a man appeared on the horizon.’
‘If any of the rest of you would like to pull out now, I shall not blame you,’ I said, and we all looked at each other. ‘I have no right to ask anyone to endanger her life.’
‘You have no right to forbid us,’ Dulcie argued, ‘not while there is a chance of putting a stop to this monster before he hurts another girl.’
‘I warned them that this might happen,’ Harriet told me, for she knew me better than anyone. ‘And we have talked about it.’ She took my shoulders and held me in her gaze. ‘We are going to do this with or without you, March – though, obviously, we would feel much safer if you came.’
‘Getting cold feet?’ Sally asked, and I glanced at Baroness Worford glowering on the wall, Gricean with her missing eye.
‘Not I,’ I said.
‘Good.’ Dulcie breezed over to the sideboard. ‘Then that is settled.’ And she poured five stiff brandies – not my tipple, but I was never more glad to have one.
70
The Silver Fox
DULCIE’S BROUGHAM WAS waiting on Huntley Street, a maroon four-wheeler, with the Brockwood crest of a silver fox crossed by two swords on the door.
It was a clear, dry night, though a light wind was getting up.
‘This is Geoffrey.’ Dulcie introduced her coachman with a familiarity towards her servant that would have shocked my guardian.
‘You can always rely on a Geoffrey,’ I said, for it was also my father’s name.
On the back were two burly footmen, both professional pugilists in their day, Dulcie assured us, and the older man, Lenny, grinned almost toothlessly to lend weight to her story.
I sat facing forwards with Harriet at my side, Dulcie and Sally opposite us, holding hands.
‘Shall we do that?’ Harriet asked and our fingers intertwined.
It was a long, slow journey. Geoffrey was highly skilled at pushing into gaps that looked narrower than our carriage to me, and the footmen had no compunction about lashing out at beggars or urchins who tried to slow us down. But a brougham takes up a lot of road and the streets were increasingly narrow and crowded with pedestrians, and it seemed forever before we pulled up in the square.
Harriet slid towards me. ‘Whatever happens, I love you.’ I felt her tremble.
‘Tell me that when we get back to Huntley Street,’ I said softly, and raised my voice. ‘Last chance to change your minds.’
‘Tosh,�
�� Dulcie said, as the younger footman lowered the steps and opened the door.
‘I love you too,’ I whispered to Harriet and she kissed me.
The square was deserted. Geoffrey was down from his seat and prowling the peripheries, his whip at the ready. He bestrode the whole area before rejoining us.
‘It is not my place, milady,’ he towered over his mistress, ‘but I would be much happier if me and the men could follow at a discreet distance.’
‘And who will look after the horses?’ she enquired.
Geoffrey flapped a leather-gloved hand. ‘Oh, they can look after themselves. Black Bess would break the skull of any man who came too close.’ He scanned the unglazed windows all around us. ‘But if you’re really worried, Dick can stay. They trust him.’
Dulcie touched his sleeve. ‘I appreciate your concern, Geoffrey, and I am truly grateful for the offer, but we are all armed and alert and we have a plan.’
‘Your father—’
‘Will never know,’ she assured him.
‘The trouble is, two or three big men like you might frighten our quarry away,’ I explained.
‘Very well,’ Geoffrey agreed reluctantly. ‘But at least take this.’ He reached behind his head and lifted a cord over his hat to hand her a huge antique silver whistle. ‘Any trouble and you give that a blast. Hear it halfway across London on a quiet night like this.’
‘Thank you, Geoffrey.’ Dulcie hung it around her neck. She craned up and for a moment I thought she was going to kiss her coachman, but she only told him conspiratorially, ‘I spotted a nice old pub three streets back.’
Geoffrey broke into a broad grin. ‘So did I, milady – the Ship Inn – but we will stay here and wait for your signal.’
‘I could go an’ fetch a jug,’ Dick, the younger footman, offered hopefully.
‘We will all stay here,’ Geoffrey said firmly, ignoring their disgruntled moans.
‘Did you remember the lamps?’ I asked, and Lenny clambered back up to open the postilion box, handing down four lanterns one at a time for his colleague to light. I had learned one thing from my experiences at Scarfield Manor – the stupidity of stumbling about in the dark. But we might just have managed without them that night, for the moon was full and the sky was the clearest I had ever seen in London. The wind was coming in gusts now, as it often did near the river. It made Dick’s task more difficult but it had blown the fumes away.
‘We should all keep our handbags undone,’ I advised. ‘You do not want to be fiddling with clasps in an emergency.’
I had toyed with the idea of taking my father’s old service revolver. It was far more cumbersome than Harriet’s dainty weapon – the only present her husband had ever given her, she had joked once – but mine was capable, my father had boasted, of bringing down a rhinoceros.
‘Not too many of those grazing in Limehouse,’ Harriet had told me. She knew I would not carry a gun but pressed a blackhandled one on me. ‘A starting pistol,’ she had explained. ‘But it looks like the real thing and makes enough of a bang to get the little devils running on sports day.’
I unclipped my bag and put the gun on top. It was quite light but looked real enough to me.
We went as a group down the road, turning right then left, then through a maze of passageways, some occupied by sleepers, one by a sprawling drunk who clung to Sally’s skirt until she twisted his finger back.
We stood at the top of Card Street, really no more than a gap between the long rows of back yards, and chosen as our main route because it was long and straight and we had studied our map at the club until we knew exactly where the all the other alleys crossed or came off it and where they led to. There was no danger of getting lost if we stuck to the main route. A woman lay at the top of the street, curled on the stones with two skinny children in her arms. I put a coin into her outstretched hand and she took it weakly without opening her eyes. Her children were breathing rapidly and I resolved to get them to a doctor upon our return.
Sally turned her wick down. ‘I do not want to frighten him off,’ she said, ‘before he sees our bait.’
‘Probably the first time I have been called that.’ Dulcie squeezed her friend’s shoulder.
‘If he is around, the chances are he will try something on our way home when he will expect us to be befuddled with opium,’ I forecast. ‘But we cannot be sure of that, so take care, stick together and no heroics.’
We all hugged and Sally went ahead, tentative at first but soon getting into a confident stride. A baby cried somewhere and a cat shot out, making Sally jump, but she kept going. There was an unnamed very narrow alley on the left after about thirty yards. She stopped, turned her wick up a fraction and peered down it, stepping just inside before reaching out to wave the lamp in signal that the way was clear. Dulcie stepped round the woman. Sally emerged and started down again and Dulcie blew us a kiss before setting off after her.
‘Lord, if I were a man, I would be sniffing round her,’ Harriet whispered as Dulcie strolled as elegantly as any woman could along a narrow, cobbled alley with a rubbish-strewn central gulley, and I could see what she meant. Dulcie was not only a beautiful woman but she oozed her beauty in a way that most of us could only dream of.
Sally was going faster now, a dark shape in the darkness, but it did not really matter for she would wait at the next crossroads for Dulcie to get past the first side street. Dulcie paused as she reached it until she saw Sally’s lamp flare up, perhaps another thirty yards ahead, and wave to urge her on.
Dulcie carried on. Harriet and I set off after her, with a quick glance over our shoulders. Geoffrey stood watching us uneasily. The surface was more uneven than I had imagined and slippery, probably from a sewage overflow, but we made the first alley without incident, just as Dulcie made the second and Sally stopped to check the third. We all passed on our way. The fourth break was another, very narrow alley, and we had to wait a while before Sally was satisfied it was safe. We turned right at the end towards where we had calculated the Golden Dragon to be, and then left. I had never seen the streets so quiet.
Sally reached another junction and stopped to check it. The lantern swung to signal the way was safe and then went out.
‘Damn.’ I strained to see. ‘I hope she has a Lucifer. Oh, it is all right.’
The lamp reappeared, turned very low, and we could only see it rise and fall like a firefly, so far from us now. Dulcie set off after it, turning her light up to negotiate a pile of filth and to make herself more visible.
‘Perhaps we should try a busier street.’ Harriet hitched her dress to step over a greasy puddle.
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘Nobody is likely to be looking for a victim in such a place. Why is it so deserted?’
Dulcie reached the narrow turn-off and was about to saunter past when she stopped.
‘What?’ She stepped towards the alley and Harriet touched my arm. We hesitated. ‘Sally!’ Dulcie put her lamp down.
‘What is it?’ we called in unison.
‘Oh my God, Sally!’ Dulcie stepped into the gap and her lamp went out.
‘Stay there!’ I shouted. ‘Wait for us.’
Harriet and I hurtled along the street, slithering and nearly falling over each other in our rush.
‘If something is wrong, blow your whistle.’ I pushed ahead. It was then I heard a sob and the sound of drumming boots and a scuffle. ‘Shoot into the air, Harriet,’ I called, skidding so badly that I crashed into the wall as I swung round to the left.
Harriet’s gun shattered the silence, the explosion ricocheting in every direction.
Sally lay crumpled. I held up my lamp and saw a darkness frothing from her breast. I kneeled in the pool and Sally wheezed.
‘Oh, Sally, darling,’ I whispered, and cried out, ‘Dulcie. Dulcie, can you hear me?’
There were more scufflings and then from behind me a rush, and the figure of a man hurtling towards me, flinging me face down on top of Sally, her breath grunting bloodily into my
mouth.
71
The Scabbard in the Hand
I ROLLED.
‘Get out of my way,’ the man yelled, and it was a moment before I recognized the voice as belonging to Sidney Grice, but he was gone, racing jerkily round a bend, his safety lantern swinging wildly.
I struggled to my knees, barely aware that they were scraped raw. Harriet was behind me. ‘Stay with Sally,’ I told her. ‘Try to staunch it.’
But I knew there was no hope. I saw Sally’s eye flicker, and the empty scabbard in her grip. ‘I am so sorry.’
Sally’s lips moved and her fingers crushed the scabbard. She sighed and I could not see any fresh frothing.
There was a distant cry and a thudding. ‘Look after her.’ I got to my feet. ‘And use your gun if he comes back.’
I snatched up my lamp and gave chase.
This alley was so narrow that my skirts dragged along the rough bricks on both sides as it curved this way and that, unbroken even by a doorway or window, the body of a large dog sprawled across my path. I tried to jump it, but mistimed and heard the ribs crack and felt my foot sink in. I shook myself free and carried on.
There was a pink handbag in the gutter, its contents strewn. I could not see the gun. Did I hear a muffled wail? My neck prickled but I drove myself on.
The alley bent at a right angle to the left now and opened into a small deserted court, completely enclosed by a wall some ten or twelve feet high. There were three plank doors leading off, one to either side and one straight ahead. I tried them all but they were locked solid.
‘Can anyone hear me?’ I banged on the right-hand door. Nothing. Was that a rustle?
‘Mr G?’ The words came hoarsely but were unanswered.
A definite rustle this time. The sound of stiff bolts being pulled back. I brought out my revolver. ‘I am armed,’ I warned, backing against the wall and ready to jump either way. Banging noises preceded another bolt being forced back, and the middle door opened. ‘I shall shoot.’
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