“I don’t believe so. There was bruising that indicated restraints, and two puncture marks on the inside of both arms.”
“My God. What is this about?” Sir Preston demanded, but Burnell ignored him.
“Fascinating. I would, of course, be interested in observing the postmortem when you do conduct it, Munroe.”
Munroe hesitated only slightly, then shook his head. “Unfortunately, that won’t be possible. The body was stolen.”
“Stolen?” Burnell stared at Munroe, stunned. “Are you certain?”
Munroe smiled wryly. “They don’t just get up and leave, you know.”
Burnell shook his head. “Who would steal fromyou?”
“I heard Mr. Percy paid an ungodly sum to obtain only an arm from a man who had leprosy,” Dandridge said, looking shaken.
The image of the leg in Goldsten’s laboratory flashed through Kendra’s mind. She’d assumed it had come from one of his patients, like the toes Dandridge had collected, but now she wondered if he’d purchased it on the black market.
Kendra circled back to the victim. “When you last saw Lady Westford, how did she seem?”
Burnell studied Kendra like she was a new species he’d discovered. After an uncomfortable beat, his mouth curved into another smile. “Forgive me, Lady Sutcliffe, but it is rather unusual for a gently-bred woman—or any woman, really—to be making these types of inquiries. Do you fancy yourself a Bow Street Runner?”
His amused condescension scraped her nerves more than his probing gaze, but she managed to summon a cool smile of her own. “Given your association with Lady Westford, I would think you’d be used to women having unusual interests, Mr. Burnell.”
“Yes, she was indeed an enlightened female,” Sir Preston said. “Which is why it’s preposterous to think any one of us would wish to harm her. She supported our causes. Now . . .” He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. “I’m afraid I must go.” The old man picked up his cane and leaned on it briefly as he eyed Kendra. “If I can be of any further assistance, let me know, madam. Good day.”
Dandridge set down his coffee cup and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll accompany you, Sir Preston.”
The surgeon picked up his stethoscope and slipped it into his pocket before leaving with Sir Preston. Burnell, Kendra noticed, seemed to find his colleagues hasty departures amusing.
“You didn’t say where you were on Sunday morning, Mr. Burnell,” she noted.
“No, I didn’t.” He smiled. “Even God had a day of rest, my lady. I was at home. Enjoying my day of solitude.”
“I take it that means you don’t have a wife?”
“My wife died several years ago.”
“I’m sorry. Can anyone else verify you were at home?”
His smile thinned. “Solitude is derived from the Latinsolus. By oneself.”
“Your housekeeper?” Munroe put in.
“I do not have live-in servants. Given my schedule, I find that would be a frivolous expense. I do have a maid who cleans once a week, but I am not such a pagan to require her to work on the Lord’s day.” He finished his whisky and set down the glass. “This has been . . . interesting, my lady. Munroe.” He nodded and sauntered across the room.
Kendra waited until the surgeon was gone before turning to Munroe. “Does he have a big house?”
He raised his dark brows at the question. “I’d say it’s a modest dwelling. Why do you ask?”
“I’m just wondering how he’s able to fit his giant ego into such a small space.”
Munroe chuckled. “I know Burnell can come across as insufferable, but he’s a highly skilled surgeon. And probably one of the most vocal proponents for medical advancements in the Metamorphosis Club, aside from Sir Preston.”
“I’m sorry if my questions will cause problems for you with your colleagues.”
“They’ll understand, once they’ve had a chance to think about it.”
They stepped back into the hallway, which seemed even more chaotic after the calm of the lounge area.
