Oscar and I tapped panels in earnest until I finally hit one that sounded different to the others. I pressed on the wood, but the panel didn’t open. Oscar and Miss Wheeler tried, too. Nothing happened. The voices were still muffled, but they were louder and filled with desperation.
“A hammer,” Oscar said, looking around. “Something to break through.”
There was nothing, not even fire irons on the hearth. Then I saw it. The escutcheons carved into the stone fireplace surround were blackened from years of soot, except for one. It was clean. Too clean.
I pressed both hands to it and pushed. The stone shield sank an inch.
“You got it,” Oscar said, still at the wall where one of the panels had popped open. He opened it wider, revealing a pitch-dark space beyond.
The voices cried out in excitement, but they were still muffled.
“It’s all right,” Miss Wheeler said, her voice soothing. “We’ve come to rescue you.”
I quickly struck a match and lit the lamp, my fingers fumbling as I replaced the glass chimney over the flame. I handed the lamp to Oscar who led the way inside, Miss Wheeler on his heels, but not for long. She surged past him and fell to her knees in front of one of the women. She removed the gag from the captive’s mouth.
Mary—I was sure from her clothing that she was Mary the maid—began to sob. The other woman, dressed in a silk dress, must be Juliette Buchanan. Miss Wheeler removed Juliette’s gag, too, but instead of crying she let out a string of abuse directed at her kidnappers. She didn’t stop until her hands and feet were freed from their bindings.
“There was more than one?” Oscar asked as he assisted Juliette to her feet, while I helped Mary.
Juliette didn’t seem too weakened from her ordeal. Her voice was strong, her eyes flashing in the light of the oil lamp, now held by Miss Wheeler. “There were three—two men and a woman.”
“A woman?” Miss Wheeler echoed. “Can you identify any of them?”
“Let’s get them home before we pepper them with questions,” I said. “Are you harmed? Do you need to see a doctor?”
“We are not injured,” Juliette said, “aside from a few scratches and bruises.” She inspected her wrists where the rope had rubbed the flesh raw. Her hair was tangled, as was Mary’s, and the hem of her dress had come down. Despite her disarray, there was a bearing about Juliette that commanded attention. “We’ve received food and water, and they made beds for us. Of sorts.” She kicked a bundle of rags and stuffed sacks, which knocked over a night soil bucket. Head held high, she picked up her skirts. “I want to see my mother.”
Oscar offered her his arm. She hesitated before taking it and allowed him to assist her from the hidden room. I steered Mary into the lighter, larger room, where her tears finally abated. I patted her hand, unsure what else to do to comfort her. The small gesture brought on a fresh wave of tears.
Juliette put an arm around the maid’s shoulders and gave her a little shake. “That’s enough now, Mary. We’re safe. It’s over. These people will take us home and the police will find who did this and punish them. We’ll get our justice.”
Her no-nonsense determination rallied Mary. The maid wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Not the police, Miss. We cannae trust them.”
Juliette gave Mary’s shoulders another shake. “We can. Those people were not officials. They were operating outside the law.”
“But they said we were on trial.”
“Trial?” Miss Wheeler echoed. “On what charge?”
Juliette’s gaze met hers. “Witchcraft.”
Chapter 14
“Ignorant, that’s what they are,” Juliette snarled. “Ignorant, narrow-minded, horrible people. I hope they rot in prison.”
“Me too,” Mary declared. “Horrible people.”
The maid seemed to take strength from Juliette, who showed no ill signs from her captivity. A stark reminder came when both girls shielded their eyes as we emerged into the light. They needed a moment to adjust to the brightness after being held in the dark for so long.
We’d found ourselves on a busy street, but few passersby paid us any attention. Those who did wrinkled their noses at the filthy state of the two women with us. None stopped to ask if they were all right.
I wasn’t sure where we were, but Mary, the only local among us, directed us to Moray Place. Oscar spotted two constables walking their patch and informed them we’d found the two kidnapped women. One left to inform the investigative team at police headquarters and the other continued with us to Moray Place. He asked the women to wait for D.I. Smith before discussing their ordeal, but Juliette was in no mood to wait.
“We never saw their faces. They wore masks covering all but their eyes. One was a woman, two others were men. There were no distinguishing features, they weren’t tall or short, fat or thin.”
“One of the men smelled nice,” Mary piped up.
“What did he smell like?” Oscar asked.
