The Armored Doctor (Curiosity Chronicles Book 2) (17 page)

“You’ll excuse the mess.” Abigail pulled the door back.

“Goodness, you certainly weren’t expecting company.” Catherine’s eyes enlarged as she entered the room. “What happened in here?”

Abigail shut the door behind her. “An investigation and interrogation took place.”

Her sister pivoted. “Have you broken the law?”

“No, but I’ve been accused of doing so. The Cabinet of Intellectual Curiosities believes that I’ve stolen the works of Dr. Valerian.”

“Sister, I have no idea of what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” Abigail forgot that most people never heard of the COIC. “Suffice it to say that a government agency commissioned Dr. Valerian to fashion a weapon for them. I drew the concept sketches. Now someone has somehow gotten their hands on one of them.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I was told it was a spy who worked for a French industrialist named Broussard. Have you heard of him?”

Catherine sat on the bed. “The name may have come up when Hammond and his friends talk foreign affairs, but I’ve never listened much beyond that. I find the subject to be so dry and tedious.”

Abigail began stacking a pile of books in her arms. “But as it goes, this Broussard has an established spy ring running about London. Someone in their midst managed to get a hold of my sketch. The COIC thinks I gave it to the ring in exchange for money or whatnot.”

“Where might the spy have gotten hold of your sketch?”

“Again, I don’t know, and I don’t feel safe.”

“You can stay with me.”

Abigail set the books on the table. “I couldn’t impose.”

“You’re my sister. How could I let you face this alone?” Catherine’s gaze fluttered down as soon as the words were uttered. “Abigail, I listened to what you said yesterday. I was monstrous for casting you out of my home in order to make you see things my way. I thought that after our mother and father died and you came home from India, you no longer had the luxury of living life as a spinster.”

“It’s no luxury for me, Catherine, but all the same, I didn’t want to be with a man I couldn’t love, and know he wouldn’t  love me in return. And rather than cause you and Hammond difficulty by supporting me, I thought it best to leave.”

“Well, you’ve shown that you can take care of yourself. I thought working for the Macklethorpes would change your mind in no time.”

“You know I’m headstrong.”

“Your head is as hard as a rock.”

“And yours was forged in an iron foundry.”

Catherine smiled. “I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

“Only if you forgive me.”

“Done.”

Abigail embraced her sister after a year from refraining. It was good to put the past to rest. “Help me pack. I don’t think those agents wrecked all of my clothes.”

“They’d better not have touched my hat. You still haven’t returned it to me.”

“It’s over by the window.” Abigail crossed the floor and went to the small shelf below the window sill. She bent down and froze.

“What is it?” Catherine came over.

“I’ve never seen that scuff mark before.” Abigail pointed to it on the top of the shelf.

“Could the agents have done it in their search?”

“No. It looks like the heel print of a man’s shoe.” Abigail rose and looked at the sill. “The latch on the sill has been raised. That’s how the intruder got in and no one heard him.”

“How could he have raised the latch from the outside?” Catherine leaned in to inspect the latch and test it.

“This window’s always been a bit loose. There’s just half an inch of space at the bottom. The intruder must have found something—a piece of bent wire, perhaps—and forced it through the space to turn the latch. That’s how he was able to raise the window.” Abigail shivered as she realized how easily the spy was able to enter her room. “He could have done this any time in the past two months that I started sketching designs for the project.”

“And more than one spy could have been watching you, too.” Catherine stifled a nervous reaction, but part of it displayed in the tic of her jaw.

“In December, I remember seeing a man standing in full view of my window from across the street. He wore an old suit and bowler. I knew something wasn’t right about him.”

“Where did you keep the sketches at that time?”

“I usually keep them on the table as I’m working on them. The spy must have come during one day while I was out, rummaged through the portfolio, and took a sketch. I wish I knew which one.”

“I can’t believe there’s a spy ring in our very own London.” Catherine shivered.

“That’s what the COIC says.” A  chill went through Abigail’s body, too. “Catherine, I just thought of something. That French spy was caught today. What if the other spies soon discover him missing and go out searching for him?”

“This would be the first place they’d look.”

“We have to leave now.” Abigail drove her hands into the hope chest and found her empty valise. Catherine took it from her and tossed it back.

“Leave it. You can wear my clothes. There isn’t time to waste.” Her sister pulled her towards the door.

They bustled through the hallway. Abigail heard the other female tenants having supper in the dining room a few doors down. She took a left past the front desk where the landlady started to rise from her chair.

“Will you be joining the ladies for supper tonight, Miss Benton?”

Abigail kept walking towards the front door, hesitant to stop. After spies breaking into her room and agents searching it, she didn’t know who to trust anymore. “My sister and I will be taking supper elsewhere this evening.”

She and Catherine left the boarding house and started their brisk walk up the street. She heard the landlady call out to her from behind, but had no idea of what she said.

“I see a hackney carriage on the right,” said Catherine, already flailing her arms to hail the driver. “You hurry and get in. I’ll tell the driver where to take us.”

Before they reached the vehicle, the driver hopped down to open the door. He was back on his bench seat as Abigail and Catherine arrived. Abigail stepped on the pedal and practically vaulted into the carriage as she heard her sister call out her address to the driver.

“I promised him a guinea should he get us there posthaste,” Catherine said, as she climbed across on the other seat and shut the door. “My, but this is the shabbiest vehicle I’ve ever been in. Look at the state of these cushions. And the cloth on the ceiling is practically molting.”

The carriage lurched forward. Abigail held onto the edge of the worn seat. Once the ride became smoother, she settled back. “Thank you for your help, Catherine.”

“Nothing to thank me for. But I must ask, with all these accusations flying about, where is Dr. Valerian?”

Abigail was assailed again with a feeling of confusion and loss. “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to reach him.”

“Or he has been out of reach deliberately.”

“Catherine, please. You and I have just reconciled. Besides, Jacob’s absence could mean any number of things.”

“But he’s not here in your hour of need.” Her sister sighed and wrung her hands. “I know you are fond of this man, but what if he brought the charges of theft against you or supported the investigation?”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Jacob knows I wouldn’t steal from him. And if he even thought that I would do such a thing, he would ask me himself. He wouldn’t send COIC agents to do it.”

Catherine still appeared doubtful. A frown settled into her delicate features. “If he really cares for you, he will defend you against the charges and restore your good name.”

“He will. He’s a good man.”

“I’ll believe that about him when I see it. But right now, I see that he has left my sister to fend for herself.”

Catherine’s cold appraisal of Jacob stung. Abigail wished she could show her differently, but knew that her older sister was only going by the evidence set before her. And to Catherine, it looked as though Jacob had put the safeguarding of his work above Abigail. But something must have happened to keep Jacob away this long. If only she knew what that was.

“The carriage is stopping.” Catherine leaned forward to look out the window. “This isn’t Paddington.”

Abigail peered out. The sight of an abandoned feed storehouse came into view at a corner of a darkened alley. Above the roof loomed the smoke chimneys of factories. The smell of offal assailed her senses. “We’re near St. Giles.” Her stomach dropped as she saw a group of men in stained and tattered clothing emerge from the storehouse and begin to approach the vehicle.

“I distinctly told that driver my address. He won’t be getting that guinea now.” Catherine raised her arm to pull the string to alert the driver.

“No.” Abigail stopped her, lowering her arm. “Catherine, what did that driver look like?”

Her lips pouted in thought. “I don’t know. He wasn’t particularly clean, I’ll give you that. He had his shoulder drawn in and kept scratching at it.”

Abigail’s blood came to a sluggish halt as she heard the driver jump to the ground.

Catherine started to say something, but silenced immediately as she saw Abigail roll up the sleeve of her blouse.

The driver’s footsteps came around to the carriage’s side. Abigail pressed the button on the side of her cuff to release the pocket pistol. Its springs gave a soft click as the weapon flew forward to rest in her palm. Catherine gasped.

She whispered to her sister, “When I tell you to run, do it.”

The driver slapped his hand on the door handle. Abigail kept aim on the door and waited.

#

“Here we are.” Jacob pulled on the string to alert the driver once they arrived at Abigail’s boarding house. He didn’t wait for the Secretary as he got out and marched inside the building.

The tiny lobby was empty, including the chair behind the front desk. Jacob hit the bell on the desk.

A woman in her fifties came scurrying from the corridor. She looked worried and distraught. “May I help you?”

“Miss Benton resides at this address. I know it is late, but I wish to see her.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “State your name and purpose, sir, or I shall alert the nearest constable at once.”

The Secretary entered. “There will be no need for that. My name is Alistair Kidman, and I am an official with the Cabinet of Intellectual Curiosities.”

The woman’s eyes grew as they fastened on him. “You people again. Why can’t you leave that poor girl alone? Hasn’t she been through enough in one day?”

Jacob glared at the Secretary before addressing the woman again. “We are not here to cause Miss Benton any distress. We merely wish to see if she is doing alright.”

“I wouldn’t know. She left this evening with her sister. She said they were going to have supper out, but they’ve yet to return.”

“Did they say where they were going?”

“No, but they were in a mad haste to catch a cab. Miss Benton neglected to lock the door to her room behind her.”

The unease that already gnawed at Jacob grew into a fierce bite. “Take us to see her room now.”

She nodded at his firm command and grabbed the oil lantern off the desk. “Follow me.”

Jacob trailed her past the identical closed wooden doors of the other tenant rooms until she stopped before the last room around the corner. She gave the lantern to Jacob before she pulled a key from one of many on the ring she wore at her waist.

“I locked the door for her.” She unlocked it and pushed it open. Jacob went inside and held the lantern to the darkness.

The room looked as though a storm blew in. Books and papers lay spilled across the narrow bed and on the table. Two of Abigail’s dresses stuck out through the half-closed closet doors, their seams torn.

Jacob turned to the Secretary. “There had better not have been a struggle in here.”

“I was in the room with Miss Benton when those agents did their search,” the landlady volunteered. “They combed through here slapdash, but they didn’t touch her.”

Jacob headed to the window.

“What are you doing?” asked the Secretary.

“Trying to find how the spy got in. I assume you generally remain at the front desk during daytime hours, don’t you, madame?”

The landlady fidgeted. “I sometimes get up, but it’s never for more than a few minutes. Certainly any of the ladies here would notice if an intruder were to come in.”

The Secretary scoffed. “But that’s just it. No one did. But I do see that you have a key to all of the rooms.”

She gasped. “I hope you’re not accusing me of going into Miss Benton’s room and snooping about?”

While the two of them went back and forth, Jacob found that the latch on the window was broken. “You can stop frightening the landlady, Mr. Secretary. I just found out how the spy got in. Look at this window. It won’t close all the way. There’s enough space at the bottom for someone to get a hook or wire through.”

The Secretary went to see for himself. “You’re right. And once he got the latch free, he could climb in. There’s a heel print on the shelf.”

“We know how he did it. And why. It was easier for him to watch Abigail’s room here in east Holborn than it was for him to attempt a theft at my residence. Not much good this information does us now. Thank you, madame.” Jacob gave the lantern back to the landlady and went out Abigail’s room, through the lobby, and outside. He took a deep breath of the cold air. It was all he could do to control his frustration as the Secretary came after him.

“Maybe she went to her sister’s residence,” he suggested.

Jacob shook his head. “If so, I don’t know the address.”

“Look. A cab approaches.”

Jacob saw the hackney driver bring the vehicle down the other side of the road and pull on the horses’ reins. A thin man of medium height burst out, paid the driver, and came rushing up to the boarding house.

“Is this the ladies’ boarding house?” the thin man asked Jacob. Despite the cold, his face was sweating.

“It is,” Jacob answered. “Are you looking for someone?”

“My wife. She told me that she was going to pay a call to her sister who lives here. She’s been gone since.”