The Girl in the Steel Corset - By Kady Cross Page 0,67
debacle—but he kept his questions to himself.
“Of course, Your Grace. I will get that for you directly.”
The curator didn’t hang about once he’d shown them where they wanted to go. He had to man the front, of course, and copy the watchman’s address, but he asked Griffin to summon him should he require anything—anything at all. Then he bowed and took his leave.
Jasper waited until the man was gone before asking, “You ever get tired of folks puckerin’ up to your backside?”
Griffin faced him with mock gravity. “Yes. It is deuced tiring, people doing whatever I wish. Makes my life so very disagreeable.”
With an arched brow and wry smile, Jasper shook his head. “I sure do feel sorry for you.”
“Indeed, and for your information, I don’t enjoy having people trip all over themselves to please me.” Griffin frowned. “They usually want something in return. It makes it very difficult to know who my real friends are.”
“You live with them,” Jasper reminded him.
That was true, but there was no need of him to say that since Jasper knew it, as well. Griffin ducked under the velvet rope that surrounded the display and crouched beside the spot where the queen’s likeness had once stood.
Who would do this? And for what purpose? He scanned the area, seeing nothing, not a hair nor scrap of clothing nor…
There was something. He took glass slides and a small blade from his inside coat pocket.
“Jas, come look at this.”
His friend drew closer. “What is it?”
“Oil.” He scraped the blade through the globule, taking care not to scratch the floor. He smelled it. “The same texture and scent as that found at the automaton crime sites.”
Jasper bent over his shoulder for a better look. “The Machinist?”
Griffin smiled slightly. He had no reason to feel pleased at being correct in his assumptions, but he did. It felt as though they were closing in on the criminal even though they still had no idea where or who he was. “Indeed. Our devious friend has been busy as of late.”
“Why the heck would he want to steal a wax dummy when he obviously prefers metal?”
“I don’t know.” Griffin sandwiched the oil between two glass slides. He’d take it to Emily for further analysis.
Jasper scowled at him. “If you don’t know, why do you look so pleased with yourself?”
Griffin flashed a lopsided grin. “Because we’re going to find out.”
Mr. White returned at that moment with the watchman’s direction. Griffin thanked the curator and then he and Jasper swiftly took their leave, returning to their cycles and setting off to the watchman’s neighborhood.
A short time later, after weaving in and out of traffic at the highest speed they could obtain and still avoid pedestrians and horses, they knocked on the door of a small, but clean and cozy little house in Shoreditch.
“Long way to travel for work,” Jasper commented as they waited on the step.
Griffin shrugged. “The underground makes it much easier for Londoners to commute these days.”
Jasper made a face at his mention of the subterranean railway. The cowboy didn’t like tight spaces any more than Griffin did.
“No,” Griff remarked with a small smile. “I don’t like it, either.”
The door was opened by a stocky man, shorter than Griff but easily twice as broad. Griffin consulted the card Mr. White had given him. “Mr. Angus MacFarlane?”
“Aye,” the man replied, appraising Griffin’s fine clothes and the pistol partially concealed by Jasper’s duster. Ginger brows lowered over sharp, blue eyes. “How can I help you gentlemen?”
Griffin offered his hand. “Griffin King, Duke of Greythorne. This is my associate, Jasper Renn. We would like to talk to you about the Tussaud’s robbery.”
MacFarlane didn’t look impressed. In fact, he looked downright wary. “Mind if I ask to see some identification, Your Grace?”
Jasper tried unsuccessfully to hide a chuckle. Griffin shot him a wry look as he produced one of his calling cards for the man.
The big Scot looked at the card, finely printed on the best stock and obviously decided it—and Griff—was the real deal. He stepped back from the door. “Come in.”
“Thank you.” Griff crossed the threshold first, followed by Jasper.
“I’d offer you a drink, but I haven’t anything the likes of what you’d be used to.” MacFarlane made it sound as though Griff was the one at fault. This was nothing new. With the knowledge that being a duke would open many doors for him, also came the knowledge that not everyone would like him for it.