Murder in the East End - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,45

bottle.”

* * *

* * *

The next morning, Tess and I worked side by side until luncheon was served upstairs, and then I changed my frock for my half day out. I would meet Daniel and the others at Mr. Thanos’s flat first thing and then spend the rest of the afternoon with Grace.

I decided to walk to Regent Street on my own. Lady Cynthia would also be attending the gathering, but I did not want Mrs. Bywater to look out her window and see us strolling chummily down the street, so I left without waiting for her.

I set off north to Grosvenor Square and turned onto Grosvenor Street, intending to head east in a more or less straight line to Regent Street. I hadn’t reached the end of Grosvenor Street, however, when a hansom pulled beside me, containing Cynthia in her frock coat and tall hat.

“Get in,” she commanded.

“It isn’t far,” I pointed out.

“Far enough, and I’m not beastly enough to make you walk while I pass you by. Get in.”

Lady Cynthia was in a foul temper, I could see, and I obediently scrambled into the hansom. The cabbie at least waited until I’d seated myself before he careened the horse into traffic again.

Cynthia gazed at me with bloodshot eyes, which told me she’d imbibed a bit more last night than the small glass of brandy I’d given her.

“You were right to tell me to sleep, Mrs. H. Except for my blasted headache today, I am far less morose. Ready to take down so-called respectable ladies and gentlemen and shake Lord Russell Hirst until he lets loose the whereabouts of the young things.”

“Well said.” I patted her arm. “We will prevail.”

She gave me a nod. “I believe you will, anyway.”

Mr. Thanos’s new digs were in a large building in Regent Street, near Hanover Square and across from Argyle Place. The ground floor of the house held two shops—one a bookshop with leather-bound tomes on its shelves, the other a store that sold lovely porcelain from the Orient.

A fine address indeed. I wondered, as we descended from the hansom, about this patron from the Polytechnic, who could lend his lecturers such a regal place to live.

A polished paneled door between the shops opened to stairs leading to the flats above. The landlady took us up and into a sumptuous front room with a high ceiling, tall windows, and an ornate fireplace left over from the turn of the last century. The fireplace had been fitted with a coal fender, where a fire burned merrily, the red and orange flames cheerful against the gray day.

Mr. Thanos was taller and slimmer than Daniel, with dark hair he wore swept back from his forehead and warm dark eyes. He approached as his landlady departed, his smile wide as he held out a hand to me.

“Only too glad, Mrs. Holloway. Is this flat not astonishing? A far cry from my two cramped rooms in Bloomsbury. So much more than a scholar can expect, but my benefactor is proving generous.”

He babbled the words as he pumped my hand, avoiding looking at Cynthia.

“I am glad to hear it, Mr. Thanos,” I said as he finally released me. I believed he deserved a mansion, one in proportion with his vast cleverness.

“Of course, I have not yet begun my lectures, and perhaps when the students fall asleep or throw things at me, he might change his mind.”

Mr. Thanos laughed breathily, and I smiled in response, though I doubted he need worry.

“What will you lecture on?” I asked politely. Mathematics, I was certain, or an obscure puzzle in science I would not understand.

“Maxwell’s demon,” Mr. Thanos answered. “No one can solve the problem, including me, though I have some ideas. But perhaps I can inspire the next great genius to do so.”

“Demons?” Mr. Fielding’s voice sounded behind me. “I would have thought that my field of expertise.”

He kept his tone light, but when I turned to him, I saw that Mr. Fielding’s face was drawn, the usual roguish look in his eyes absent. His lips were colorless, his stance rigid.

“No, no,” Mr. Thanos said quickly. “Not a real demon, you understand. A thought experiment. To do with thermodynamics. You see there is a box, with two compartments and a little door—”

“It will keep.” Daniel broke through his words. “Another time.”

Mr. Thanos looked sheepish. “Ah yes. Of course. My apologies. I find it fascinating, is all.”

“You can explain it to me later,” Cynthia said, taking his arm and leading him toward