The Mystery Woman (Ladies of Lantern Str - By Amanda Quick Page 0,15

and tell him that I will wait in my carriage.”

The porter eyed the envelope with suspicion but he accepted it.

“I will give him your message, sir.”

The porter’s tone of voice implied that he did not expect that there would be a response. He disappeared back into the club and closed the door very firmly.

Joshua limped back to the carriage and climbed the steps into the cab. He sat down and massaged his leg while he waited. Not much longer now, he promised himself. There will be brandy soon.

The wonderful thing about the gentlemen’s clubs of London was that time stood still inside the walls of the establishments. Change came at an excruciatingly slow pace, if ever. Joshua had always found the predictability and dependability of the members’ habits extremely useful. Allenby, for example, took pride in always possessing the latest gossip. And when it came to passing that gossip along, he was extraordinarily reliable.

Allenby, a portly man of some seventy years, appeared on the front step of the club. He spotted the carriage on the far side of the street and started toward it.

“Won’t you join me, sir?” Joshua said from the shadows of the unlit cab.

“I say, it is you, isn’t it? Smith’s Messenger.” Allenby clambered up into the vehicle and sat down. “I recognize your voice. Heard you were dead. I suspected someone might be playing a trick.”

“Thank you for making time to see me,” Joshua said.

“Of course, of course. Old times and all that. I will always be in your debt, sir, for what you did for my son a few years ago. Glad to see you are, indeed, still alive. What can I do for you?”

“As it happens, I would like to request a small favor from you.”

“Absolutely, absolutely,” Allenby said.

Joshua settled deeper into the corner of the cab. “I have recently learned some disturbing news concerning the character of a gentleman named Euston.”

“Euston? Euston?” Allenby squinted. “The young man they say is angling after the Pennington heiress?”

“Yes,” Joshua said. “Euston is not quite what he seems, unfortunately. His finances are in ruins and he invented his social connections.”

“Hah. Fortune hunter, eh?”

“I’m afraid so. You are acquainted with the young lady’s father. Thought you might want to put a word in his ear.”

“Certainly, certainly,” Allenby said. “Known Pennington for years. We were at Oxford together. Least I can do is let him know there’s a fortune hunter after his girl.”

“Thank you.”

“Will that be all?” Allenby asked.

“Yes. I appreciate your assistance in this matter.”

“Of course, of course.” Allenby paused and cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t presume to inquire why you haven’t been around this past year but the porter mentioned a cane.”

“I use a walking stick these days,” Joshua said.

“Accident, eh?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Well, then, may I say that I am delighted to know that you survived,” Allenby said.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’ll be off then. Pennington will no doubt be dropping into the club later tonight. I’ll make sure he gets the information about Euston.”

Allenby lumbered out of the cab and made his way across the street.

And that was that, Joshua thought. By morning Euston would be persona non grata in all of the wealthy homes of London. Gossip traveled faster than a flooded river through the gentlemen’s clubs of London.

Six

Half an hour later Joshua climbed the front steps of his small town house. He had purchased the residence several years earlier when he had become the Lion’s Messenger. His requirements at the time had been simple. He had needed privacy. A modest address in a quiet street where the neighbors minded their own business had suited him perfectly. None of the respectable people around him had any notion that the occupant of Number Five carried out clandestine investigations for the Crown. As far as they were concerned he was a single man of modest means surviving on the income he received as a clerk employed by a shipping company.

The town house had been closed for the past year but the always reliable Chadwick had done a remarkable job of making arrangements for the hurried move back to London.

Joshua let himself into the dimly lit front hall. He removed his hat and sent it sailing across the small space toward the polished console table. He allowed himself to take some satisfaction when the hat landed precisely where he had intended. His bad leg made it impossible for him to move at anything faster than a halting walk and many of the fluid martial arts maneuvers that had once