And there was the other part of it...he had described the man he saw asa short, stout man with a bowler hat. The exact same description of the man Brodie had seen across from the town house in Mayfair.
Two different men with the same description, both seen after a murder ten years apart? A coincidence?
Eighteen
We returnedto the Agency offices at the Tower of London. Alex Sinclair met us at the high street entrance with some urgency.
Something had obviously happened. I was almost afraid to ask what it was, my thoughts racing. And then there was just one thought—Brodie!
“What is it?” I demanded.
“Sir Avery has instructed me to immediately bring you to his office once you returned,” he replied, that lock of dark hair over his forehead, and intense expression behind his glasses.
I could only think the worst.
What if Brodie’s condition has worsened? Had those formal charges been read against him? What then would happen?
We followed Alex through the maze of passages and hallways of the Tower, past a yeoman warder’s desk with only a glimpse through a narrow slit of window in the stone walls to a central courtyard beyond, and could only imagine what those who had been imprisoned inside through the centuries had experienced.
Was Brodie to have a similar fate?
In spite of changes in the Tower, it was still manned by yeoman warders, who lived in apartments within the walled fortress. Even though the fact that executions no longer took place at the Tower, there were still gallows, a reminder of the Tower’s past.
Of course there were stories about the Tower. Three queens had been executed on the Tower green—Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, and Lady Jane Grey. Although there were those who argued that Lady Jane Grey had never been queen. It was one of those arguments over who was the rightful successor to the throne. As usual there was disagreement and...Off with their heads!
I had visions of the queen from Mr. Carroll’s novel and shuddered at the thought. Then there were the stories of two young princes that were imprisoned there and never seen again, simply because of the happenstance of birth.
Sir Avery’s office and the other offices of the Agency were in an area of the Tower that were once royal apartments near the river, with an entrance that had been used in past centuries by members of the royal household arriving by barge.
There was still a landing on the banks of the Thames, and Brodie and I had used the entrance in the past.
We eventually reached Sir Avery’s office, and Alex knocked to announce our arrival. At Sir Avery’s response, Alex escorted us into the office.
“Here you are, dear,” a familiar voice greeted us. “We have been having a pleasant conversation. And now you and Mr. Munro have returned. Please do join us.”
My great-aunt looked over from where she sat across from Sir Avery. Sir Jamison Laughton, her attorney, sat beside her.
At her other side sat the hound. Rupert immediately got up and greeted me with an insistent nudge of my hand, no doubt looking for food.
My aunt was dressed in a gown of royal-blue satin, trimmed with white satin at the edge of the sleeves and about the neck, a creation of Madame’s for the Queen’s golden jubilee a few years earlier.
It was an elegant design, somewhat over the top, I thought, for calling on the director of Special Services. And then there was the walking stick made of mahogany and topped with a circle of gold and precious stones that she held before her.
She had been forced to use it when she had previously injured her ankle and had been known to wield it about like a truncheon. She held it before her now with a bejeweled hand that included a ring set with another blue sapphire that was inherited from some long-lost ancestor.
She presented an impressive sight, and knowing my great-aunt, not without a purpose. My friend Templeton had nothing on her when it came to grand entrances.
And performances as well, I thought.
I had not spoken of Brodie’s situation when I returned from Scotland Yard; there had been no time. Nor had I discussed the murder case we were following.
The less said, the better, as I did not want to concern her. However, I was reminded that it was never wise to underestimate her or what she was capable of.
“We have been discussing the situation,” she said with a smile for Sir Avery. “I have expressed my deep concern over the manner in which Mr. Brodie has been treated in this,” she continued. “It would appear, for anyone with a grain of intelligence, that given the somewhat difficult history between certain parties, liberties have been taken.”
There was another smile.
“To be brief I have expressed to Sir Avery that all manner of justice must be observed, as any clear-thinking person would insist. To that end, and in light of certain actions on the partof certain individuals, I do fear for Mr. Brodie’s safety and that he might be subjected to someone taking the law into their own hands.”
