“Impossible.”
“There’s more to the story,” I said as I explained Sir Bryant Rothschild’s connection to the Fascist Party and Hitler and what he hoped to do to the Freemasons. Adolph Hitler wasn’t yet born in this path, and Fascism wouldn’t be founded until the time of World War I in Italy. But it didn’t take much for me to explain both to Austen. “Jack the Ripper isn’t a Freemason,” I said to him, running out of breath. “He is their enemy. I don’t know if he was behind your parents’ murder, but I know he wants the Book. He wants to take the Freemasons down.” Panic took hold of my heart as I remembered that Miles hated the Freemasons because they had protected his father after he had killed Miles’s mother. “Just as Miles wants to see them ruined. Maybe they do work together.”
Austen shook his head. “Miles wouldn’t allow an innocent woman to be killed, no matter what he believes about the Freemasons.”
When we finally got to the harbor, the sky was a little brighter, but several large passenger ships were still docked at the wharf.
“I purchased tickets for them on the passenger liner theCity of New York.” He scanned the harbor and then pointed and said, “There! It’s still docked.”
We continued down the wharf toward the ship, which looked like one of the newer vessels in the harbor. People were stillboarding, so when we approached, I told the steward that we had come to speak to two of the passengers.
“It’s very important,” I said to the man, knowing that my voice and face revealed the depth of my dismay. “Something that cannot wait.”
“We’ll be setting sail within the hour,” the steward said with sympathy. “So make it quick.”
“Thank you.” I started up the gangplank with Austen close behind.
“They’re in a first-class cabin,” he said. “I believe it was room 164 in the bow of the ship.”
When we reached the promenade deck, he took my hand and led me toward the front of the ship. We asked a porter where room 164 was located, and he directed us up a beautiful rounded staircase.
Everything in first class was lovely, from the potted ferns to the walnut trim. Part of me was thankful Austen had taken such care to make sure my sister traveled in style, but the other part was so worried Miles had taken her back to Miller’s Court that I could hardly see straight.
When we finally reached room 164, I didn’t hesitate and pounded hard on the door. “Mary,” I said, praying that by some miracle my sister was still in her cabin. “Mary!”
The door finally cracked open, and Miles stood on the other side, blinking away sleep. He was wearing a modest nightshirt, and his hair was disheveled. On the ground behind him was a pallet with blankets and a pillow.
He frowned, clearly confused and alarmed. “What’s the trouble?”
“Where is my sister?” I demanded as I pushed open the door.
Mary was in the berth. She sat up, startled, and pulled the covers to her chin. “Kathryn! What’s wrong? Why are you here?” She looked toward the small window where the sky was just turning soft pink, obviously sleeping just moments ago. “Haven’t we left port yet?”
“Mary!” I cried as I rushed into the room and tripped over theblankets on the floor before falling against my sister with relief. I began to weep. “You didn’t die!”
She was baffled as she hugged me back. “Of course not. What has gotten into you, Kathryn?”
It took me a moment to gather myself, but even as I felt relief, more confusion set in. “I don’t have much time,” I said as I pulled back and righted myself. “But I need to speak to you.”
“We’ll give you a moment alone,” Miles said as he pulled his coat on over his nightshirt and grabbed his pants before he and Austen stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind them.
“What is going on?” Mary asked me as she got out of bed and grabbed her dress.
“There was a murder last night,” I told her. “At 13 Miller’s Court.”
She paused and stared at me. “What?”
I couldn’t tell her how I knew, so I said, “Jack the Ripper got into your room and murdered—someone. Someone who looks very much like you, perhaps.”
Her expression blanched as she grabbed my arm. “Jane.”
“Jane?” I frowned and shook my head. “Who is she?”
“A friend,” Mary said. “People always mistook us, and everyone thought we were sisters. Our hair is the same color, and we’re about the same height and weight. I was surprised at first, thinking that we might be related. We looked so much alike.”
“Why would Jane have been in your room?”
“She came often,” Mary said, her voice quivering with emotion. “She was afraid to be on the streets, so I told her that if she couldn’t get her doss money, she could always come and stay with me. She was in my room minutes before you came for me last night.”
