As it turned out, Dot quite literally if inadvertently did this.
Hawkes was washing his face in preparation for his encounter with Brundage when he heard a knock on his door.
He patted himself dry and peered out the peephole to discover Dot.
He opened it.
“Mr. Hawkes, will you be down for dinner this evening?”
“Well, let me think, Dot. Will everyone be present at dinner?”
“Oh, everyone, I believe, except for Mrs. Gallagher, who has an engagement for seven in the evening.”
Oh,didshe now? thought Hawkes.
“What a coincidence, Dot. I’m so glad you mentioned it, because as it turns out, you helped me recall that I have an engagement this evening, too. As delightful as it is to enjoy everyone’s company and Helga’s cooking, I shall take dinner out.”
“An engagement! Oh, how lovely!” Dot was always willing to rejoice in the good fortunes of others.
Chapter Seventeen
He was fairly certain he’d been followed from the Stevens Hotel to his stabbing location, because he’d told Brundage that’s where he’d be staying. Brundage had likely provided a helpful description of him to his would-be assassin.
He had at no point since then gotten the sense that anyone realized he’d staggered all the way to The Grand Palace on the Thames. His assailant had likely left him for dead, confident he’d gotten the job done.
But Hawkes nevertheless made his way to Brundage’s St. James townhouse circuitously, which was the way he intended to leave it, as well. No sense making it easy for someone to track and kill him, should someone take the notion to try again.
He asked his hack driver to stop a hundred feet or so away from Brundage’s townhouse. He swiftly walked the final distance, maneuvering between the pedestrians and equestrians of St. James Square. He hadn’t been followed.
He rang the bell.
To his surprise, Mr. Pike, the footman, opened the door.
Mr. Pike’s face lit. “Mr. Hawkes. Pleasant to see you again, sir.”
“Good day, Pike,” he told the footman. “Likewise. You traveled with the earl from Paris, did you?”
“Yes, sir. He’s spent so little time in London during the war that he didn’t see cause to keep the London house fully staffed.”
He suspected Brundage couldn’t quite afford to keep the house fully staffed when no one lived in it.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Hawkes?”
“The earl is expecting me,” Hawkes said firmly.
Pike hesitated. “Forgive me, sir, he is in... but I fear I wasn’t informed you would be coming today, and he normally leaves instructions with the staff regarding the reception of guests.”
It wasn’t definitive proof, of course, that the earl was confident that Hawkes had been successfully murdered. Forgetfulness beset all men from time to time. But Hawkes knew full well the Earl of Brundage was usually scrupulously organized.
Poor Pike looked uncertain. Determined to do a good job for a man he loathed, determined to help a man he liked and admired, and quite uncertain about what Hawkes might have in mind today.
“No need to stand on ceremony, Pike,” Hawkes said lightly. “I expect he has a good deal on his mind. I promise I shan’t be long. I’ll just go on up with you, as I know he’ll want to speak with me straightaway.”
Perhaps he saw something in Hawkes’s face that indicated he was going to go up whether Pike thought it wise or not. Intelligent fellow that he was, he opted not to argue.
“Very well, sir.” Pike stepped aside so Hawkes could enter.
And so up the staircase they went, to a vast room.
