The Mystery Woman (Ladies of Lantern Str - By Amanda Quick Page 0,33
Josh dealt with the body. It turned up in the river the following day. Everyone assumed that my friend’s husband had been the victim of a robber who had murdered him on his way home from a brothel.”
“Good riddance, is all I can say.”
“Yes, but the bastard moved in Polite Circles,” Hannah said. “He was a wealthy man. If it got out that he had been murdered in my kitchen three years ago, the press would go wild. I doubt that there would be a police investigation—not after all this time. Josh has connections at Scotland Yard. I’m sure he could stop an inquiry, in any case. But not even that dreadful man he worked for at the time could silence gossip in the papers. My friend and I would become notorious overnight.”
Beatrice drummed her fingers on the quilt. “I just cannot see how Dr. Fleming learned of your secret. I swear to you that he never at any time attempted to hypnotize you on the occasions that you came to the Academy.” She paused, frowning. “Unless you booked some private appointment with him?”
“No,” Hannah said. “What’s more, I am absolutely certain my friend never told anyone. I know for a fact that she never attended any of Fleming’s demonstrations. She has no interest in the paranormal. As for my housekeeper, she is very loyal. She has always kept the family secrets. Even if she did confide in someone, I cannot imagine that person found his or her way to Dr. Fleming’s Academy of the Occult. It just seems so unlikely. And as for Josh, he never even told that dreadful man who employed him to do his dirty work. And Lord knows, Josh trusted Victor Hazelton like a father.”
“I don’t understand,” Beatrice said. “Who is Victor Hazelton?”
“The real name of that dreadful man who calls himself Mr. Smith.”
“I see,” Beatrice said. “So the secret was kept, yet somehow it ended up in Dr. Fleming’s stash of blackmail materials.”
“You can see why Josh’s theory that I was hypnotized during those private sessions made sense. It was the only explanation we could find.”
“I honestly cannot see how it could have been done without my knowledge,” Beatrice said.
Hannah sighed. “I do believe you.”
“But you say it was not the events in your kitchen that night that brought you to me for the private consultations?”
“No,” Hannah said quietly.
“We will find the blackmailer and when we do, we will get the answers to all your questions,” Beatrice said.
Hannah gave her a misty smile. “I do not doubt it. I have never approved of Josh’s career but I will be the first to admit that he has a talent for conducting investigations. He always finds what he sets out to find.”
“So I have been told.”
Fourteen
The telegram was brief but the message sent a feverish rush of relief and excitement through Clement Lancing. He stood beside the sarcophagus and read it twice to convince himself that the news was real.
He put his hand on the crystal lid and looked down at the woman floating in the Egyptian Water.
“He did it, Emma. That bastard Gage found the practitioner. You will never believe this, but she was working as a paid companion all this time. No wonder she was impossible to locate. We were looking in the wrong places. The strategy is moving forward again. Gage has taken the bait.”
The woman in the sarcophagus gave no indication that she heard him. Her sleep was too deep.
He noticed that the level of water had gone down again. Time to prepare some more of the formula. He went to the shelf that held his supply of chemicals. He was almost out of the salts, but then, he would not need them much longer.
Fifteen
The great hall of the Alverstoke mansion was awash in dark energy. The currents swirling around the massed collection of Egyptian artifacts set Beatrice’s senses on edge.
Massive stone statues of Egyptian gods, goddesses and demons, many adorned with the heads of animals, gazed down on the crowd with implacable stares. Canopic jars, scarabs and ankhs were arranged on tables. Detailed miniatures depicting everyday life in the ancient land—a fishing boat complete with tiny men casting nets, a house with a walled garden—were set out on shelves. Glass-topped cases held brilliant pieces of jewelry—pectorals, collars and earrings.
Beatrice shivered and wrapped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. She had positioned herself on a banquette in a corridor just off the great hall. A cluster of potted plants shielded her