The Mystery Woman (Ladies of Lantern Str - By Amanda Quick Page 0,94
all right?”
“He’s got her,” Joshua said. “It’s my fault. I violated the first rule in an investigation. I trusted someone connected to it.”
“Hang on, are you talking about Miss Lockwood? Who has her?”
“Hazelton. He was working with Lancing all along. They’re going to attempt to revive Emma and they believe they need Beatrice to do it.”
“Bloody hell. They’ve both gone mad, then?”
“It’s the only explanation,” Joshua said. “I need your help.”
“Yes, of course, but how do you know that Victor is in league with Lancing?”
“Get your pistol and come with me. I’ll tell you everything on the way.”
It took only a moment to retrieve his pistol from the desk in his study. Nelson grabbed it and raced back down the hall. He climbed up into the small cab and sat down beside Joshua. He was aware of a fire in his own blood now. Excitement, resolve and a sense of purpose energized him as nothing else ever had. He wasn’t going out on another pointless round of drinking and gambling tonight. He was going to do something important. He was going to help rescue a lady.
Henry cracked his whip. The horse leaped forward.
“First, tell me how you learned that Hazelton is involved in this affair,” Nelson said.
“He sent the assassin after me tonight,” Joshua said. “He assumed that if I survived, I would credit my own plan and never suspect him. He had no way of knowing that Weaver did not live long enough to help me bait the trap. Hazelton was the only other person except Beatrice who knew that I would be at the Red Dog tonight. He is the only one who could have sent word to the Bone Man.”
“He brought in a foreigner to do his killing and kidnapping—someone he knew from his years as Mr. Smith—because he knew that if he used a man from the London underworld, one of your acquaintances in the criminal class who owes you a favor would either warn you or take care of the problem himself.”
“Right,” Joshua said. “Victor wanted me out of the way but he did not want to take the risk of trying to kill me. If he failed, there would be no hope of reviving Emma.”
“He’s the one who trained you,” Nelson said. “He still respects your ability, in spite of your injuries.”
“So it seems. But in the end, it didn’t matter if I lived or died tonight. All he cared about was distracting me long enough to allow him to snatch Beatrice.”
“But we are going to find her, aren’t we?” Nelson said.
“Yes. But first we will stop at my town house for some equipment that I put into storage a year ago.”
“Uncle Josh, I don’t mean to be pessimistic about our prospects of success, but you can’t possibly know where Victor took Miss Lockwood. How are we going to find her?”
“We look for her in the right place.”
Forty-Seven
She awoke to the essence of death and the smell of strong chemicals. For a moment she lay still, afraid to move, afraid to open her eyes, fearful of what she might see.
“I think our guest is awake.”
The masculine voice was unfamiliar but there was no mistaking the whisper of unwholesome excitement that was woven through it like a dark thread.
“Yes, she is,” Victor said. “The least we can do is offer her a stimulating cup of strong tea to help her overcome the effects of the drug.”
She realized that she was lying on a cot. A strange lethargy weighed heavily on her senses. She felt vaguely nauseous. A hazy scene fluttered through her head like an image from a dream. She caught a glimpse of Mrs. Flint and Mrs. Marsh sprawled, unconscious, on the floor of their front hall. She remembered the overpowering smell of the chloroform.
Instinctively she pulled hard on her senses, struggling to overcome the dazed ennui that held her in its grip.
She opened her eyes and found herself looking up at the night sky through a glass-and-steel dome. An icy white moon, partially obscured by clouds, shone down. The dome was modern in design as were the gas lamps that illuminated the chamber, but the stone walls around her were very old.
A figure appeared between her and the view of the night sky. She had never met him but she knew it could only be one man.
“Clement Lancing,” she said. She had a hard time getting his name out. She knew she sounded half asleep or perhaps slightly inebriated.