I had learned previously that it was pointless to argue with the man. That was not the reason I was there.
He studied me, chin resting on steepled fingers. “I have waited a long time for this,” he said with a self-satisfied expression.
“If there is some irregularity with Sir Laughton’s request, I will make a telephone call to his offices,” I replied. “He did insist that I contact him once I’ve seen Mr. Brodie.”
That gaze sharpened. Did I mention weasel?
“Yes, of course. A very thorough man, not that it will do any good. However, by all means you may proceed, Lady Forsythe. Or should I say, Mrs. Angus Brodie.”
I waited, but did not respond. He eventually summoned one of his constables.
“You will escort Lady Forsythe to the holding area. There, she will be allowed to speak with the new prisoner—Brodie.” He held up a hand as the constable waited at the door.
“She has been known to be most proficient with a firearm. You will see that she has no weapon.”
“Yessir.”
Not that I would have brought a weapon with me. Then again, I did experience a small moment of satisfaction that it was of some concern to Abberline.
Munro had seen to‘disarming’me as we arrived.
“The man would like nothing better than to have a grievance against ye as well, miss. I know Brodie has seen that yer armed, as well as carrying the blade I gave ye when yer out and about on yer inquiry cases. I willna have my friend thinkin’ that I sent ye in there like Daniel into the lion’s den. Ye will give me both.”
A quote from the Bible? That surprised me more than his insistence that I turn over both weapons to him. Who might have expected that? And when I commented on that?
“A woman I once kept company with was fond of the verses,” he said with a frown. “She was far better at the verses than at…”
I had quickly handed both weapons over to him, before he went into greater detail.
Now, as I followed the constable to the door of Abberline’s office, I said, “I assure you, if I had a weapon, you would already know of it.”
The young constable stared at me as he finally understood my meaning.
“You may carry on,” I told him and closed the door to Abberline’s office rather sharply.
I had experience with someone incarcerated in the past—Templeton came to mind. It had been a somewhat bizarre experience. Detained in the matter of the dead Ambassador at the old Scotland Yard, she had proceeded to give a performance to the staff as Cleopatra—the play she was in at the time.
Then there was the situation with my sister’s former husband, who made a series of catastrophic choices that ended his marriage, his career, and almost his life. He had been imprisoned for high crimes against the Crown. I emphasize the word‘former.’
I had paid him a visit at Newgate in the course of our investigation, an experience never to be forgotten, with its dank stone walls and the certainty that the lives of those within were over. A place of the living dead, I had once heard it described.
But even those previous situations could not prepare me for what I saw as I was escorted into a part of the New Scotland Yard referred to as a ‘holding area.’
I followed the young constable down a hallway at the ground floor, lined with a half-dozen rooms with stout doors and bars set into the small openings at each one.
“I will have to search you, miss,” he announced politely enough.
I opened my bag to reveal that I carried no weapon. He nodded, then hesitated, his face coloring.
“The Chief Inspector did say that I was to search your person as well.”
“And what precisely does that entail? As you can see,” I turned about for his inspection. “There is hardly a place where I might conceal a weapon.”
I had worn a gown and jacket from a previous stay at Sussex Square. The gown clung to me, while the jacket, when I opened it, left nothing to the imagination nor did it reveal any weapon.
“That is quite sufficient, miss,” he stammered and promptly unlocked the door at cell number 1-B.
I stepped inside, and the door closed behind me with a startling finality.
