They’d beat me to a pulp. I shouted at Donata to run, but she ignored me, damn the woman.
I heard the pounding of large boots, and then Brewster was there, his sling gone, yanking a ruffian from me and hurling him to the pavement. Brewster’s face was set in a scowl, rage radiating from him as he tore the second tough from me and smashed his good fist into his nose.
As he drew back for another punch, I shouted, “Leave him. Gethim.”
I pointed to the Englishman who’d decided to flee. Brewster released the man he’d pummeled, leapt over his body as he fell to the cobbles, and raced after my assailant.
The ruffians dragged themselves to their feet, decided I wasn’t worth the trouble, and hobbled off into the darkness as rapidly as they could. I pushed away from the wall, catching my breath and trying to brush off my ruined coat.
“Donata,” I said to my wife as she came shakily forward to hand me my walking stick. “What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?”
For a moment, she glared at me as though ready to admonish me in return, then her face crumpled. “Damnation, Gabriel, I thought they’d kill you.”
She came at me, my usually cool and composed wife, and I caught her and pulled her close. We stood there in the tiny lane, swaying a bit as we held each other, I breathing her scent and thanking God she was whole and unhurt.
I heard Brewster stomping toward us, and a second set of scrambling footsteps interspersed with his. Donata and I drew apart as Brewster hauled the knife-wielding man around the corner to us. Brewster had twisted the attacker’s arm behind his back and held him up by the collar, half strangling him.
“You,” I said, gazing into the man’s apprehensive but determined face. “You are going to tell me who you are, and what you are about.”
Our attacker made a few desperate noises and tried to shove a hand into his coat pocket. Brewster twisted the arm tighter, and the man let out a gasp of pain.
Donata darted forward and dipped into his pocket herself, retrieving a small card with handwriting on it.
“Please understand that I am deaf,” she read. “Good heavens.”
“So Grenville told us. Brewster, please escort this gentleman to our lodgings. I have many things to ask him.”
“Should toss him in the river instead.” Brewster jerked on the man’s collar, enough to make him grunt.
“No. Don’t let him go, but keep him alive, please.”
Brewster muttered something, but he pulled the man away with him. Brewster strode rapidly, the captive’s boots dragging as he struggled to keep to his feet.
“The poor man is deaf?” Donata asked. She was still shaking.
I took the card from her, studied it, and dropped it into my pocket before winding her arm through mine.
“The poor man is excellent with a knife, and he pushed Grenville into a hole and left him there. I will shackle him if necessary.” I knew I should give the attacker over to the police, but I did very much want to know why he was pursuing me.
I’d never seen him before in my life.
Brewsterand his prisoner reached home before we did, and when we entered Grenville’s house, Grenville was in the ground floor reception room, studying the wreck of our assailant. The man still hung in Brewster’s grip, Brewster on the point of fracturing the man’s arm in vengeance.
“Ah, Lacey,” Grenville said as though we’d entered a soiree at his Mayfair home. “I see you’ve brought a visitor. I was just scolding him for knocking me into that well in Pompeii.”
The man was much subdued, the wildness in his eyes replaced by pain. Brewster knew how to restrain a captive.
“Can he understand you?” I asked.
“As my half-brother does, by reading lips,” Grenville said. “And, like my half-brother, pretends he cannot when he wishes to plead ignorance. But he understands me perfectly. Hand signals help—my brother and I worked out our own form of it, though of course this fellow can’t know what we contrived.”
The man’s dismay as Grenville spoke told me he did indeed understand every word.
I faced him. “Who are you?” I asked carefully.
“It isn’t necessary to twist your mouth with every syllable,” Grenville said in amusement.
“Very well.” I calmed myself and spoke normally. “The question remains. Who are you?”
