There followed a low rumble from Rupert and he was off as he charged through the opening then across the thoroughfare.
I didn’t attempt to call him back as I knew well enough that was pointless when he was on the chase of something. Or perhaps someone?
I thought of Alex’s warning regarding Abberline and his determination to destroy Brodie as I glanced once more into the shadows across the way where Rupert had disappeared.
I saw nothing. Still…
I closed the door and bolted it. Rupert would return when he chose, as he had in the past and let me know with either a scratch on the door, or a howl if I didn’t promptly let him in. Out of respect for my neighbors I was usually most diligent in that.
I returned to the parlor and went to my desk. I needed to make notes about what I had learned about the counterfeit case, and then decide precisely how I was going to help Brodie.
I did wish that I had a chalkboard at the town house. It always helped to see everything more clearly written out where I could consider it from every angle.
Quite often something I had not thought of seemed to pop out at me. In the matter of finding Brodie, it was undoubtedly best that I didn’t write down anything that might be seen by others.
I wouldn’t put it past Abberline to simply barge into the office on the Strand or the town house, in his search for him. Best to simply add my notes into my notebook.
I opened the desk drawer where I kept an assortment of writing implements along with an extra notebook in search of a pen and frowned at the elegantly carved wooden box that had been a gift from Brodie. I opened it. The fountain pen was the color of dark red wine with my initials in gold lettering,M.F.B.—Mikaela Forsythe Brodie.
He had purchased it from Hancock’s Jewelers, for a sum I could only imagine. He had given the pen to me on my birthday, just after we had returned from Scotland.
“For ye to make yer notes, and so that ye know that ye are now part of me,”he had added.
To say that I was surprised was an understatement. Hancock’s was an exclusive jeweler in London, and notably carried only the finest jewelry and accessories.
I was not given to wearing jewelry other than the pendant, a medallion that had great meaning that he had given me, and the simple bronze wedding band. But more than that, Brodie was not a man given to excess sentimentality, and he had grown up painfully poor.
He had chosen something that held deep meaning to me, and had reduced me to tears at the time. And I never cried.
I had put it in the drawer to be used when I was working at my desk, but hadn’t the opportunity yet. I removed it from the box. It wasn’t the gift itself, but what it represented.
I had never needed or wanted anyone before. My family was my great-aunt and my sister, and more recently Lily.
But now…?
The seriousness of the present situation was not lost on me, and my throat tightened.
Where the devil was Brodie? Who had killed Ellie Sutton? And where had he taken the boy?
I gathered my thoughts, then sat at the desk and began making my notes about what I knew.
It was long after midnight when I finally heard the scratch of paws at the door. I set the pen aside and went to the front entrance. Rupert had returned.
He trotted past me, then sat down, and dropped what appeared to be a large piece of cloth on the floor in front of the hearth.
My first thought was that at least it wasn’t some poor dead creature that he’d scavenged. Such as Mrs. FitzHugh’s prize Pekingese, which she let out at night to relieve itself. Something that was a source of aggravation among the other residents.
“What have you got there?” I asked the hound. Not that I expected an answer. Still, that grin…
The scrap of cloth was dark blue, almost black, and made of wool, most definitely not the sort of rag that would have simply been found lying about. Particularly in this part of London. And in spite of the fact that it was torn about the edges, it was in excellent condition considering it had been in the teeth of the hound.
I picked it up and inspected it. The scrap of wool looked very familiar, the same sort of fabric in a police constable’s uniform.
It was rare for a constable to be out and about in Mayfair, unless there was some incident that required their presence. There were other areas of London that required their presence due to a great deal of crime.
I thought of the hound’s reaction just before he charged off across the street after Alex and Lucy left, and there had been Alex’s warning that I might receive a visit from Abberline.
It seemed that I had. Or at least one of his constables, keeping watch if Brodie should pay a visit?
