“It’s a warning,” he said. “That we’ve gotten too close… and the next victim.”
I stared back down at the photograph. It was a picture of me!
By the background and the clothes I was wearing, it appeared to have been taken that very morning at Portman Square as we called on Sir William and Lady Strachan.
Bold. Reckless. Or mad? Perhaps all three…
* * *
“No.” Brodie was quite adamant. He was also angry, but the sort of anger I hadn’t seen in him before— quiet, methodical as he retrieved a second pistol that I had carried in the past and put it in the waist of his pants, then with a look over at Munro with a silent message between them.
I was seeing something in both men that I could only guess came from those years on the streets together, the silent words that passed between them, and Munro’s response.
“Aye.”
Brodie had gone into the adjacent room and I heard the sound of a drawer being opened then closed.
“What are you going to do?” I asked. Munro looked up at me from the desk where he had laid out the knife he carried, and another one he slipped from his boot.
“We’re going after them.”
“I’m going with you…”
Munro shook his head. “Ye donna understand, Miss Forsythe. It’s not just the girl, foolish bit that she is. That photograph… It’s verra personal now and they won’t stop until they’re found.”
I was angry and scared. Not for myself, but for Lily. Yes, she was brave and had lived on the streets as both men had, but as Munro said, this was personal.
I had brought her to London, and now she’d been caught up in this through no fault of her own. I supposed that it was arguable considering she’d taken it upon herself to go off on her own…
As I had, countless times. It didn’t matter.
“I am going with you.” This for Brodie as he stepped back into the office. “You can leave me here, but I will still find a way to go after them.”
Oh, bloody hell. I was very near tears, and I never cried over anything.
By the expression on Brodie’s face, I thought he might tie me to the chair. But he didn’t.
“Ye’re to do exactly as I say. The minute you put yerself at risk in this…”
The rest of it went unspoken.
“Here, take this.” He looked at me as he handed me one of the revolvers. Then he was out the door.
Down on the street, he spoke briefly with Mr. Dooley. “There is to be no interference in this from Abberline. Do ye ken? And ye’re to see that Mr. Cavendish gets to the Public House where the woman will take care of him.”
“I understand,” Dooley replied.
At the sidewalk near the opening to the alcove there was a sudden sound, very much like a snarl as the hound suddenly leapt to his feet, and began barking furiously.
I went over and calmed him. He licked my hand as I stroked his head and ears, grateful that he was alive.
He was wobbly, a bit like a drunken sailor but coming round with great determination. He shook himself again, then dashed off, stopped and sniffed the sidewalk, then bayed quite adamantly.
I looked at Brodie then had Mr. Dooley wave down a cab...
Rupert had proven himself most capable in the past. It might be argued that I owed him my life. At the very least he had proven himself to be quite a tracker. It accounted for all the disgusting things that ended up in the alcove.
Thin as the possibility was, I was willing to try anything to find Lily. These people had already proven they didn’t care about killing someone. I wasn’t about to let her be their next victim.
