Within moments, they entered. The air inside had a stale, fishy smell. Charlie lit some candles she’d brought, eerie shadows chasing over the cracked walls.
“Let’s split up,” she said. “Glory and I will take this floor, Livy and Fiona the one above.”
Livy and Fi headed up the creaking stairs. The plan of the top floor was like the bottom: three rooms separated by a hallway. The front room held a few worn furnishings. While Fi poked around in the middle room, Livy went to the one at the back. As she held up her candle, the light illuminated a head of black hair.
Heart seizing, she yanked out her pistol; the figure did not move. She inched forward…and realized that she was looking at a dressmaker’s form. A wig of long black hair tied in a Chinese-style single braid sat upon a blank wooden head. Below, the form wore a long tunic over matching trousers.
Fiona came up behind her. “Heavens. Is that…?”
“I think we’ve found Fong,” Livy said grimly.
She shone her light over the desk next to the dummy: the surface was covered in pots of face paint and brushes. As Charlie and Glory came into the bedchamber, Livy pinched a strip of hair between finger and thumb, holding up a straggly black beard.
“Master Fong is a fake,” she said. “Someone is pretending to be the Chinese mastermind.”
“Who?” Glory asked, her eyes wide.
“I have four likely suspects in mind,” Charlie said in a hard tone.
“That makes perfect, diabolic sense.” Fi opened the cupboard, revealing more garments cut in the Chinese style. “One of the Horsemen is supplying the drug, but he is protecting himself by using a false persona.”
“Then if the lethal effect of the drug is uncovered, he can deny having knowledge of it.” Livy picked up the theory. “He will claim that he was an unwitting dupe like everyone else. The upstanding Englishman can blame everything on the evil foreigner…who, of course, will never be found.”
“A stratagem as brilliant as it is despicable. One that society is primed to believe, given its prejudices,” Glory said darkly. “Now, who of the four is responsible for this heinous crime?”
As the others rifled through the room, Livy tried the drawer beneath the desk. When it didn’t open, she crouched and picked the lock. Inside were assorted papers. She pulled out the loose sheet on top and read the scrawled lines.
A favorite of pirating swaps,
And mannered grocers,
I am the cause of a nightdress furor.
To find me, head on yonder towards snails
And swim with the fish beating gills.
“Did you find something?” Glory asked.
Livy frowned. “It appears to be an odd bit of verse. A riddle, perhaps?”
She continued searching through the drawer. She found a note. Unfolding it, she scanned the lavish feminine hand.
My darling,
I count the days, hours, and minutes until I can see you again.
Every moment while I am trapped in this country prison with Hadleigh as my warden is torture. How I loathe my husband. He seeks to stifle my soul with his bourgeois ways. He cannot hold a candle to your manly sophistication, my darling. How I miss you!
I dream of the day we can run away together. Until then, the life you put inside me gives me hope for our future. Come for me soon, my love, or I shall expire from wanting you.
Your loving,
A.
The words sunk in, chilling Livy’s blood. “I have to warn Hadleigh.”
“About what?” Charlie asked alertly.
