The Mystery Woman (Ladies of Lantern Str - By Amanda Quick Page 0,55

someone else was.”

Beatrice swallowed. “Me.”

“I cannot be sure yet, but I am starting to think that someone required my services to do what I do best.”

“Find people,” Hannah whispered. “Good grief. Someone sent you to find Beatrice?”

“Not Beatrice,” Joshua said. “Miranda the Clairvoyant. The woman who disappeared the night of Fleming’s murder.”

Twenty-Four

Murder.” Lord Alverstoke blotted the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “Astonishing. Utterly astonishing. Murder here at Alverstoke Hall and in the room where I display the finest artifacts in my collections. It’s intolerable. And it will revive all of that silly chatter about a curse.”

“The quickest way to put the talk of a curse to rest is to find the killer,” Joshua said.

Beatrice glanced at him. He had not bothered with a disguise today. The false beard and glasses were gone. When he had awakened Alverstoke’s butler with the news of the murder he had explained his presence in the household with something very close to the truth. He told Alverstoke that he was Hannah’s brother and that he had been staying nearby so as to be available to escort her and her companion back to London at the end of the visit. He had noticed some “odd lights” in the household tonight and, fearing burglars, he had come to investigate.

Alverstoke was still too unnerved by the discovery of the attempted theft and the murder to question the story.

Joshua was growing increasingly impatient with Alverstoke’s dithering. There was an edgy energy about him that spoke louder than words. Beatrice knew he wanted to get on with his investigation but he needed Alverstoke’s cooperation. His lordship, however, appeared oblivious. He was still consumed with outrage and disbelief.

Alverstoke Hall was nearly empty. Word of the murder had ignited a firestorm of bustling servants and hastily summoned carriages. It was amazing, Beatrice thought, how quickly the upper classes could move when threatened with possible involvement in a police investigation. Joshua, Hannah, Sally and herself were the only guests remaining at the castle.

Now all of them with the exception of Sally, who was upstairs packing Hannah’s things, were gathered in the library with their distraught host. Beatrice and Hannah were seated on a sofa. Alverstoke was slumped in the chair behind his vast mahogany desk. Joshua was at the cold hearth. He had one arm braced along the mantel. He gripped the handle of his cane very tightly with his other hand.

The investigation conducted by the local authorities had been perfunctory, to say the least, Beatrice thought. It had seemed obvious to one and all that two thieves had conspired to steal one or more of the artifacts. There had been some sort of quarrel—presumably an argument about which of the villains got the most valuable relics—and murder had ensued.

Lord Alverstoke had been assured that the affair was concluded because it appeared obvious that the murderer was already on his way back to London, where he would disappear into the dark streets of the criminal underworld. There was no reason for the authorities to trouble his lordship with further inquiries.

Joshua, however, was determined to do precisely that.

“I say, I have no interest in finding out who murdered that man,” Alverstoke announced. “My only concern at the moment is locating a good locksmith, one who can protect my collection properly. I shall demand that the old locksmith refund the small fortune I paid him for what he claimed was an unbreakable lock. It’s a miracle that nothing appears to have been stolen last night.”

Beatrice noticed a subtle tightening in Joshua’s jaw. His eyes narrowed in what she suspected was a rather dangerous fashion. She knew that he was on the edge of losing his temper. No good would come of pushing Alverstoke too hard, she thought. Pressure of the sort would only alarm his lordship and make him more difficult to handle. She decided it was time she got involved.

“Sir, you must not blame your old locksmith,” she said smoothly. “It was not his fault that those intruders were able to gain entry into the chamber. The finest lock in the world will not keep out a thief who possesses the key. What Mr. Gage proposes to do is discover how the key was stolen in the first place.” She looked pointedly at Joshua. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Gage?”

Joshua drummed his fingers on the mantel once in a staccato fashion and then instantly stilled his hand. He looked annoyed, this time with himself.

“I told you,” he said, “stealing the key would not