In the glow of light from a nearby streetlamp, I saw the surprise in the expression on Adele DeMille’s face with the obvious question.
“I do know how to use it,” I assured her and we crossed the Strand together.
As we reached the other side, I simply explained to Mr. Cavendish that Adele was a client.
“Has there been any word from Mr. Brodie?”
“Not as yet, miss,” he replied with a curious glance at her. Yet he made no comment. Not that he wasn’t quite used to various people we worked with arriving at the office.
“Please keep watch,” I replied. “And do make it known if anyone arrives.”
He glanced at the revolver that I held at my side and nodded his understanding.
“You might keep Rupert with you,” I said in parting.
He had an uncanny instinct about people and would be the first to sound the alarm. With that, Adele and I climbed the stairs to the office on the second floor.
Once there, I locked and bolted the door and drew the shades down over the windows. I then took a chair from the side table where we met with clients and braced it under the handle.
I then laid the revolver on Brodie’s desk. It sat across from the entrance, and if necessary, provided the best angle, as he had explained when I had suggested that we move it across from mine to accommodate other furnishings.
‘It is best where it is, between myself and the other room, if there should be a need. And it provides a look through the window at anyone who might not be invited.’
I did see his point. It was that particular aspect of his inquiry business—it could be dangerous.
“You live here?” Adele asked as she glimpsed the adjacent bedchamber through the doorway.
“For now,” I replied and did not go into details about the loss of the townhouse to fire in another case. That might have been unnerving under the circumstances.
I had her remove her coat and hat, then went to the coal stove. I added several pieces of coal, lit it, then returned to Brodie’s desk.
The package lay there as well. It was tempting, but she had asked that I not open it. I respected her request. For now.
When coffee had bubbled and simmered sufficiently, I poured two cups. It did smell quite bracing. I handed one to Adele.
She wrapped her hands around the cup and took a sip. “It is good, as I like it. And hot. I am very cold.”
Adele DeMille was either a very convincing liar, or...
“Who are these people?” I inquired after some time had passed and I had filled both our cups once more.
She provided a physical description of three gentlemen who were the most frequent ‘guests.’ Hosts she described them, for their meetings. When others arrived, she was sent upstairs and not allowed to leave until everyone had gone.
The three who were there most often appeared to all be well educated. The others, one in particular, had a foreign accent. He was German.
And then there was Steiner.
“He was very cruel.” She had set her cup down at the edge of the desk. “He came to my room. He wanted what the otherstook. He said that since he worked for them, it was a business arrangement.”
There was no need for her to go into details. It was there in the anger and defiance in the expression at her face.
“And when he was through, he beat me. And then did this.” She eased the neck at the bodice of her gown aside and revealed a gruesome scar of a wound barely healed.
It was the mark of a wolf’s head! She'd been branded!
“He wears it on a ring on his hand,” she added as tears slipped down her cheek. “It excites him to use it.” She looked at me then.
“Is it a sin? What I have done with these men? And now Mr. Burke is dead.” Her hands were clenched tight, folded before her.
