of the confusion to grab you.”
“But he must have known that he would have had to deal with you before he could get to me.”
“He said he had been warned about me.” Joshua put the glass ball down on the table with great care. “But he did not think that I would prove to be much of a problem.”
“Because of your cane?”
“Yes.”
“I expect that he has revised his opinion of you by now,” Beatrice said. “I saw how you used the cane. In your hands it was a weapon.”
The cool satisfaction in her voice had a surprising effect on him. The knowledge that she had such deep—albeit probably misplaced—faith in him elevated his mood somewhat.
“Every object has the potential to be a weapon,” he said. “It only requires that one views it in the right light.”
“Another Mr. Smith adage?” she asked, smiling a little.
“I’m afraid so,” Joshua said. “I don’t know if the encounter tonight changed the Bone Man’s opinion of me. It was your threat to shoot him that sent him away. But he will certainly be better prepared the next time we meet.”
“I do not even want to consider the possibility that you will encounter him again.”
“It’s only a matter of time.”
“What a dreadful thought.” Beatrice’s brows snapped together. “How do you think he found us?”
“He and I did not hold an extended conversation but I think it is safe to say that he anticipated that we would leave the train before the last stop in London. Or, more likely, someone who knows how I think anticipated that maneuver.”
“Clement Lancing?”
“Lancing and I worked together for a long time,” Joshua said. “We trained together. We each know how the other thinks. I knew there was a risk stopping here in Upper Dixton until the storm cleared but there was not much choice.”
“Yes, I know,” Beatrice said. “That’s why you insisted on keeping watch tonight, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And because you did keep watch, you were able to stop the assassin,” she concluded crisply. “You saved me. For the second time.”
Joshua said nothing. He did not want to tell her how close they had come to disaster tonight. The knowledge would only make her more anxious.
“Where do you suppose the Bone Man acquired the smoke devices?” Beatrice asked. “His original plan was to kidnap me at Alverstoke Hall. It doesn’t seem likely that he would have carried those heavy glass canisters around on the off-chance he might need them.”
“I doubt if it was his idea to have a backup plan in the event the first strategy failed. But Lancing knows me. He would have anticipated just such a possibility.”
“What is our next step?” Beatrice asked.
“It is time to stop evading the enemy. I must take the battle to him. I know Lancing as well as he knows me. The one thing I am absolutely certain of is that if he is alive he will be in a laboratory somewhere. I want Mrs. Marsh’s opinion of the contents of these smoke devices.”
“You said they are Lancing’s work. What can Mrs. Marsh tell you that you don’t already know?”
“I am hoping she will be able to direct me to the shops that stock the sort of chemicals that are used to construct such devices.”
Understanding lit Beatrice’s eyes. “Yes, of course. The formula for the smoke no doubt requires some unusual ingredients.”
“As do the formulas for the incense and the Egyptian Water. There cannot be a great many apothecaries and chemist shops in London who can supply the rare and exotic chemicals that Lancing needs.”
“You think the apothecary will lead you to him.”
“I think that is our best hope at the moment. But there is another strategy I intend to implement as well.”
“I take it we will be traveling to London on the morning train?” she asked.
“The answers we need are there.”
“In that case, you must get some sleep.”
“I can do without it.”
She looked at him with eyes that were both brilliant and very serious. “You have gone more than a full day without sleep, sir. You need rest.”
Anger spiked somewhere deep inside. “Just because I’m forced to use a damned walking stick, it doesn’t follow that I can’t survive a few hours without sleep.”
“I’m sure you can, but there is no need. I will keep watch while you rest.”
“I will take care of you, Beatrice,” he promised. His voice sounded rough, more like a growl, even to his own ears.
“I do not doubt that,” she said. “But in addition to lack of sleep, you