Concerned, she set the slate on a nearby chair and approached him. “Mr. Fletcher? You look unwell. Perhaps you ought to sit down.”
Stopping in his tracks, he turned frenzied eyes upon her, and a shiver snaked down her spine. She’d witnessed a rabid horse put down for just such a look.
“Miss Dalton? What the devil are you doing here?”
“I would ask the same of you. What happened to the sale with Mr. Harrison? How did you get involved with Mr. Wormwell?”
His eyes narrowed. “How did you?”
“I have nothing to do with the man! I just wish to leave. Can you help me?”
“Ha-ha! I can’t even help myself.” He sagged against the desk. “I’ve dealt with Wormwell’s associates before but never him—and now I realize I shouldn’t have. He didn’t pay me up front as he said he would, and I need that money. I need it now! You would think the most notorious smuggled goods dealer in all of London would know the value of a load right off. But no! I’m shut in here, left to sweat and wonder if he’ll pay me or pop me off. Blast it all!”
He pulled at his hair, sweat raining from his face, so caught up in his own misery she wondered if he even knew she was there.
She stood stock-still, unsure if she ought to advance and comfort the pitiful man or retreat from the horror of him. “Why would you need money? Mr. Price says you’re a good businessman.”
He threw back his head, rough laughter pouring from his mouth.
Ami frowned. What sort of mess was this? “Mr. Fletcher, I demand to know what is going on right now.”
“Demands are naught but smoke in the wind.” Steppingaway from the desk, he puffed a stream of air at her, the stink of rum on his breath. “See? Gone.”
Alarm prickled the nape of her neck. Something was definitely not right about him. Suddenly she preferred the pockmarked Mr. Flick to this unpredictable man. She edged toward the door.
Mr. Fletcher rocked forward to his toes. “Would you like to know how I did it?”
“Did what?” She humored him as she took another step backward.
“The curse, of course. After all, you were the one who gave me the idea.” He tapped his temple. “Oh, the look on your face, my dear! As priceless as Miss Bastion’s screams when I set up the makeshift magic lantern I created in her bedroom. Didn’t even hear me doing it, so effective was the laudanum I slipped in her drink. I’m surprised you didn’t find the broken spectacle pieces that I crafted the lens from when I made my hasty escape.”
She paused, stunned as the puzzle pieces he threw out started to form a picture. “And the whispers I heard?”
“Easy enough.” He shrugged. “I paid off a servant. Handsomely, too, thanks to the set of scarabs I pinched when you weren’t looking. Brought in a pretty penny, bought me enough opium to get me by for quite a while.”
Her stomach sank. So. That’s what this was about. The man was an addict. What sort of Egyptologist had relics stolen from right under her nose for the purchase of such a devilish substance? “And the Anubis statue? There’s no way you could have moved that.”
“A magnificent feat, was it not?”
“So it was you!” Her mind whirled. Even with ropes and levers, he couldn’t have pulled that off single-handedly. “But how did you manage it all alone?”
“Ah yes. Same servant. Loves a good prank, he does, and an added bottle of gin. Not so difficult after years of practice.”
She shook her head. “But you didn’t have years. You didn’t have any time at all. You arrived at Price House after I did.”
He spit out a curse. “Try moving chests of opium bricks and you’ll gain the skills quick enough.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” He advanced, his head twitching one way, then the other, as if he were losing control of his own body. “You know, you’re very pretty with your rabbity nose.”
She backed up another step, almost to the door. If she kept him talking, she could make it out of here, not that a warehouse of Mr. Wormwell’s men was much better, but at least they were more predictable.
“The workman with the broken leg.” She flourished her hand in the air, hopefully distracting him as she slid her foot back another step. “The frightened maid. You couldn’t have had anything to do with them.”
“I didn’t. Ha-ha! Good fortune, though, eh?”
“As was the influenza?”
