“No, I swear it. I’m not the one who shot you. I’ve been one step behind you at every turn. It wasn’t until I followed you to Foxcroft’s laboratory in Los Angeles that I realized the importance of his solar engine system, though. The cannon won’t function without it, will it?”
“No. How did you come to be familiar with Cork’s and Foxcroft’s inventions?”
“An agent of the United States came to see my father and my uncle. The agent wanted to know if a cannon fueled by the energy of the sun and powerful enough to serve as a battleship weapon was technically feasible. He said there were rumors that such a device had been constructed by a British inventor named Alden Cork who had established a laboratory somewhere in the Caribbean. My father and uncle were familiar with Cork’s work, of course, but they weren’t particularly worried about it.”
“The world of inventors working on solar energy devices is a small one,” Benedict said.
“As I said, my father and my uncle didn’t think Cork’s design could function as a battleship gun, but they were sufficiently concerned to send me to St. Clare to take a look at it. When I learned that you had been shot, my first assumption was that you were the person who had murdered Cork and that you had been wounded in the process. Later, when you took the train to Los Angeles after we docked in New York, I realized that in all probability you were on your way to see Elijah Foxcroft. So I followed you. Again I was too late.”
“What made you so certain that I went to see Foxcroft?”
Declan’s smile held no trace of amusement. “As you said, the world of inventors working on solar energy devices is small. At one time Elijah Foxcroft was an employee of Garraway Oil. He was fired because he wanted to focus his research on solar energy rather than oil. We were aware that he had set up his own laboratory in Los Angeles to pursue his dream of a solar engine.” Declan paused. “Do you have any idea of who murdered Cork or who stole Foxcroft’s notebook?”
“We assume the killer and the thief are one and the same and that he is in the employ of the Russians.”
Declan nodded. “I am aware that the Russians and the British have been playing a dangerous game of strategy for some time now. Both sides want to control the future of Central Asia and the East.”
“Personally, I’m of the opinion that neither empire can control that part of the world, but as long as the Russians are attempting to do so, the Crown is convinced it has to stop them.”
Declan shook his head. “So the game goes on.”
Benedict folded his arms. “A close look at a map of North and South America makes it clear that the U.S. government is playing a few strategic games of its own.”
Declan shoved his fingers through his hair. “I can’t argue with that. But I think it is safe to say that neither your government nor mine would want the Russians to have a superior battleship weapon. Damn it, we’ve got to work together on this.”
“Given the disgraceful manner in which you have treated my housekeeper and my butler, I see no reason to assist you in any way. I am going to have Hodges summon the constable now. I imagine it will take the nearest one about two minutes to get here.”
“You’re going to regret this, Stanbridge.”
“I’m sure I’ll learn to live with that regret.” Benedict looked at Hodges. “You may summon the police now.”
Hodges inclined his head. “At once, sir.”
“Damn it,” Declan muttered.
He swung around, yanked open one of the French doors and rushed out into the garden.
Hodges looked at Benedict. “Do you still wish me to summon the police, sir?”
“Don’t bother. I’m sure Garraway will be several streets away by the time a constable arrives. In any event, it may be more useful to leave him on his own for a while. I will inform my uncle about him in the morning. Cornelius can deal with the Americans. I have enough trouble of my own at the moment.”
“Yes, sir.”
Benedict surveyed the chaotic state of the study. “Do you see the decanter? If Garraway spilled my good French brandy, I’m going to very much regret letting him leave in one piece.”
“I believe the brandy is still standing, sir,” Mrs. Hodges said. She stepped over a pile of tumbled books and moved some newspapers to reveal the decanter.
“Pour three glasses, Mrs. Hodges. Make those large glasses. We all deserve some. It has been a rather trying evening.”
“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Hodges said.
She splashed brandy into three glasses and handed them around.
Hodges studied Benedict with a considering air. “Can we assume that your evening was no more satisfactory than ours, sir?”
“You have no idea,” Benedict said.
Nineteen
