“No, Elysande. Do not do it,” he said.
“Shut up,” O’Rourke snapped as he reached into his jacket, presumably to extract the poisoned pills.
Now was her chance.
Elysande threw her arm wide, striking the lamp and shoving it from the table.
“Damn it, you stupid bitch!” O’Rourke cried.
What happened next seemed to unfold all at once and yet with otherworldly torpidity. The glass base shattered on the floor at O’Rourke’s feet, sending flame licking over the carpet and catching his trouser leg aflame.
He cursed and shook his leg, lowering his pistol in the shock of the fire singeing his skin. In the next moment, the loud report of a pistol echoed in the chamber and red blossomed over O’Rourke’s chest.
He clutched the wound in surprise, his own pistol slipping from his fingers to the floor.
“Run, Ellie!” Hudson cried.
O’Rourke slumped to the carpets, blood trickling from his mouth, his eyes wide and unseeing.
It was over. O’Rourke was dead. He could no longer hurt anyone now. But the fire was spreading over the rug, smoke and flame growing.
“Ellie, get out of here!” Hudson called, throwing a pitcher of water on the flames.
She shook herself from the stupor that had overtaken her and rose from the chair, rushing past the inspector’s fallen form, her long skirts trailing through the rising flames. In a blur of movement, Hudson was upon her, swatting out the flames and bundling her from the room.
“You are safe now, Ellie,” he said, sweeping her into his arms. “I have you.”
* * *
“Look away, my love.”Hudson pressed a kiss to her temple and the arm wrapped around her waist tightened protectively.
She did as he said, knowing Scotland Yard detectives were now removing the body of Chief Inspector O’Rourke. Hours had passed since the fire had been contained and police had been called. She was still wearing her burned scarlet gown, wearier than she had ever been, and overwhelmed by the events of the evening, but she and Hudson were alive and a monster had been stopped. That was what mattered most.
“Do you have any more questions for us, Chance?” Hudson asked the sergeant who had been working through the extensive details of O’Rourke’s crimes. “My wife is growing weary, and I should like to remove her from this mayhem soon.”
The younger man was lean as a whip and clearly held her husband in highest regard. “Forgive me for keeping you for so long, Chief Inspector—er, Duke. I expect you are exhausted after your ordeal. Just a few more questions, if you please. Chief Inspector O’Rourke admitted to killing Reginald Croydon, correct?”
“Yes,” Hudson answered, giving Elysande’s waist a gentle squeeze. “He confessed that he had been one of Croydon’s connections in Scotland Yard, but that prior to Croydon’s arranged escape from Dunsworth, he began threatening O’Rourke with revealing the nature of their association. I believe O’Rourke arranged for the escape. Shortly after Croydon was freed, O’Rourke must have killed him.”
“He said Croydon did not enjoy his freedom for long,” Elysande recalled, shuddering as the memory of being at the inspector’s mercy hit her once again.
“When I began to investigate Croydon’s escape, O’Rourke grew desperate,” Hudson added. “He murdered Mrs. Ainsley in the hopes her murder would sufficiently throw me from my course. But he could not arrest me for the crime because I had witnesses proving I was not present at the time of the murder. When that failed, he paid Mrs. Lamson twenty pounds to come forward as a new witness claiming she saw me.”
The level of O’Rourke’s duplicity was appalling.
“He brought the knife he used to kill Mrs. Ainsley as well, with the intent to suggest he had found it in my husband’s possession,” Elysande added. “Were you able to find it?”
“Yes, madam.” Sergeant Chance cleared his throat. “Your Grace.”
“If there are fingerprints on the knife, it may be possible to compare them to the fingerprints where Mrs. Ainsley was murdered,” Hudson added. “My wife’s father, Lord Leydon, has been documenting the characteristics of the fingerprints from the crime scene. Undoubtedly, they will be found to match O’Rourke’s prints.”
“Fingerprints, you say?” Chance was frowning. “I have never heard of them being used to identify a criminal before.”
“It is a relatively new science,” Hudson explained. “Given time, I do believe it will become one of the best means of solving crimes. We would be more than happy to provide the evidence Leydon has gathered concerning Mrs. Ainsley’s murder. You will be free to study it and draw your own conclusions.”
Elysande leaned into her husband’s strength, allowing her mind to drift as Hudson finished his conversation with Sergeant Chance. The shock was beginning to recede, making her gradually more aware of what they had just endured. How close they had come to death.
She swayed on her feet, and both Hudson’s arms wrapped around her, keeping her from falling to the floor. “You are overwrought, my love,” he murmured in her ear.
