“You’re still uncertain about how many members there were in Thaxter’s Circle?”
“According to the jeweler’s records, three snuffboxes were ordered. The first two were commissioned about six months ago. The third was purchased a month later. Evidently Thaxter gave them out to the members of his Circle.”
“Three snuffboxes means that there were three members in the Seventh Circle,” Gabe said patiently.
“Thus far, only two snuffboxes are accounted for. Norcross’s and Thaxter’s.”
“Hulsey must have the third one. When we track him down we will find it.”
The need to go to Lucinda was growing ever stronger. “I’m ninety-seven percent sure that Hulsey doesn’t have the third snuffbox,” he said. Calm yourself. She is safe at home.
“What makes you believe that?”
“Thaxter did not consider Hulsey a social equal. As far as he was concerned, Basil Hulsey was merely skilled labor. He claimed that the Order of the Emerald Tablet only accepted members from what he considered a proper social background.”
“In other words, Thaxter would have been willing to employ a man like Hulsey for his talents but he wouldn’t have invited him into the Circle?”
“To him it would have been like inviting his gardener or his coachman to join his club. I certainly can’t see him giving Hulsey an expensive gold snuffbox that, to his way of thinking, had been designed for a gentleman.”
“Perhaps Hulsey insisted on being treated as an equal in the Circle and demanded a snuffbox of his own as part of his fee,” Gabe offered.
“From what I have learned of his nature, I don’t think Hulsey gives a damn about social status. All he cares about is his research. There is something else that bothers me, as well. The third snuffbox was ordered five months ago. Hulsey was not involved in the Seventh Circle at that time.”
“If you’re right, then there is a third member of the Circle still unaccounted for.”
“And another unsolved theft of a plant.” Caleb looked at the paper he had put on the workbench. “There has to be a connection to Bromley’s last expedition to the Amazon.”
“What have you got there?”
“Lucinda’s list of names of the botanists who viewed the specimens from the last expedition immediately after the Bromleys and Woodhall returned from the Amazon.”
“What are you looking for?”
“The person who stole the first plant eighteen months ago. Do you have any notion how much effort is required just to discover whether or not a certain individual happened to be in London on a certain date a year and a half ago?”
“Sounds difficult,” Gabe allowed.
“It’s more than difficult. It’s damn near impossible. I’m going to need more assistance, Gabe. And more money.”
“Just to find the other plant thief ?”
“Not just for that, for the agency. The regular clients pay for their investigations, but trying to chase down the rest of the Circles in the Order and identify the Cabal leaders will require a number of consultants. Consultants, it turns out, are expensive.”
“I thought we agreed on a budget for the Jones agency.”
“It will have to be increased.”
A knock on the door interrupted him.
“Yes, Mrs. Perkins, what is it?” he called.
The housekeeper opened the door. “Inspector Spellar is here, sir.”
“Send him up immediately.”
“He’s already here, sir.” Mrs. Perkins drew herself up. “You will recall that I have given notice, Mr. Jones. I will be leaving your employ at the end of the week.”
“Yes, yes, Mrs. Perkins,” Caleb muttered. “You did mention it.”
“I’ll be expecting my wages then, sir.”
“Never fear, Mrs. Perkins, you’ll get your money.”
“Mr. Jones.” Spellar strolled into the room. He was munching on a pastry. He looked first at Gabe and then at Caleb. “And Mr. Jones. Good day to you both. As you can see, Mrs. Perkins very kindly gave me a bite to eat.”
“What news, Spellar?” Caleb asked.
Spellar swallowed the last of the pastry and brushed the crumbs from his hands. “Thought you might be interested to know that I finally discovered Allister Norcross’s address. Tracked him down through his tailor.”
“The tailor remembered him?” Gabe asked.
“Tailors always remember their expensive customers,” Spellar said. “This one informed me that he sent Norcross’s bill to Number Fourteen Ransley Square.”
Caleb frowned. “That is a neighborhood of large houses, not a street where a single man would rent lodgings.”
“Norcross was staying at the home of his uncle, who evidently is quite ill. I stopped by on my way here to make inquiries but I was told that the owner of the house was too ill to receive callers.” Spellar smiled. “It occurred to me that perhaps it might be easier for a Jones to get past the front door.”
Caleb looked at the list of names and addresses. The last passages of the maze were suddenly illuminated.
“Ransley Square,” he said. “The bastard is supposed to be dying. If he took Hulsey’s last version of the formula, that is probably exactly what he is doing.”
He had told Lucinda that he could not always understand why people acted the way they did but some motives he comprehended very well, indeed. Vengeance was one of them. And that was all that was left for a man in Ellerbeck’s situation.
He was on his feet and heading for the door without thinking about it, relying entirely on his intuition.
“Out of my way, Spellar,” he said.
“Where are you going?” Gabe called after him.
“Ransley Square. Lucinda is there.”
FORTY-FIVE
“YOU ARE THE ONE WHO STOLE THE FIRST PLANT FROM my conservatory,” Lucinda said. “Why did you take it?”
“You will recall that immediately after you and the others returned from that last expedition, your father and Woodhall showed me the specimens that had been collected. With my talent, I comprehended the true potential of one of them. But I also knew that Bromley and Woodhall would never allow me to grow it for the purpose I intended.”
“You made some poison from it?”
“I made a most interesting drug from it, Miss Bromley. It puts an individual into an extremely suggestible hypnotic state. While in that state he will do whatever he is told to do without question. When the effects of the drug wear off, the victim does not recall what happened while under the influence. As you can well imagine, there are those who would pay dearly to have such power over others.”
“You sold this drug?”
“It wasn’t that simple,” Ellerbeck whispered. He was starting to slur his words. “I realized I had an astonishingly valuable product but I did not know how to go about finding buyers for it. I’m a gentleman, after all, not a shopkeeper. I discovered Mrs. Daykin one afternoon when I went to her establishment. I sensed the poisons she kept behind the counter and knew she might be open to a business arrangement.”
“She found your customers for you?”
“She found one customer in particular,” Ellerbeck corrected. “An underworld lord who was willing to pay the very high price I charged for the drug. In exchange, he agreed to acquire all that I could supply. It was a very profitable association for all concerned while it lasted.”
“When did it end?”
“Six months ago, when I joined the Seventh Circle.”
“I would have thought this criminal lord would have objected quite strongly when he discovered that you no longer intended to supply him with the drug.”
“Allister took care of Jasper Vine for me.” Ellerbeck’s mouth twisted. “Caused quite a sensation in the press. The villain’s associates and Scotland Yard were all convinced that he succumbed to a heart attack. I did society a favor, I assure you.”
“How did you get involved with the Order of the Emerald Tablet?”
“Lord Thaxter came
to see me. He was a member of the Order and he had been authorized to recruit botanical talents for a new Circle of Power.”
“The Order wanted you to work on the founder’s formula, I assume.”
“It had become clear that the version created from John Stilwell’s notes was deeply flawed,” Ellerbeck said. “The members of the First Circle are quite anxious to make it more stable.”
“So the Order is conducting research to improve the drug?”
“Yes. I was eager to take on the project. I was certain that with my heightened talents I would soon find the answers. But when my son and I began experiencing side effects, the work took on a new urgency.”
“You gave the formula to your own son? How could you do that? It is one thing to experiment on yourself. Why would you put him at risk, too?”
“You know nothing about my son,” Ellerbeck whispered. “The formula was his only hope.”
“What do you mean?”
“As I said, he was quite insane, Miss Bromley. I was forced to put him into a private asylum when he was only twelve years of age. I did that the day after he murdered his own mother and sister with a carving knife.”
“Dear heaven.”
“I told the police that Allister died at the hands of the unknown intruder who had killed my wife and my daughter. I changed his last name when I put him into the asylum. As far as the world is concerned, Allister Ellerbeck has been dead for years. Now, thanks to you and Caleb Jones, he truly has been taken from me.”
“What made you think that the formula would cure his insanity?”
“I was certain that his mental illness was linked to his unstable psychical senses. I thought that if they could be strengthened, he might become sane. For a short time it appeared to work. I was able to take him out of the asylum and bring him here to live with me. I introduced him to my friends and associates as my nephew since I could hardly claim that he had come back from the dead.”
“But soon the toxic side effects of the drug began to show, didn’t they?” Lucinda said.
“He was plunging back into insanity before my very eyes but this time he was so much more dangerous because the formula had heightened his senses to a level that allowed him to kill with his talent. I knew we were both doomed unless the drug could be stabilized and made less toxic.”
“You weren’t making any progress improving the drug, though, were you? Was that when you discovered that the penalty for failure within the Order is death?”
“Yes, Miss Bromley.”
“That was when you and Thaxter went looking for a modern-day alchemist to assist you, wasn’t it?”
“Believe it or not, I considered inviting you to join the Order, Miss Bromley. But Thaxter wouldn’t hear of taking a woman into the Circle. In any event, I feared that if you ever learned the truth about the death of your father and Woodhall, you might go to the police or to the Council.”
“I would never have agreed to help you work on the formula,” she said tightly.
“You are so like your father,” Ellerbeck said wearily. “All that bloody self-righteousness is very tiresome. In desperation I turned to Mrs. Daykin for advice. I knew she was aware of other botanical talents in London who might abide by a somewhat different set of ethical standards. She suggested I discuss the matter with a certain Dr. Basil Hulsey, who, as it happened, was looking for a new patron.”
“Why did you send Hulsey to my conservatory to steal my Ameliopteris ?”
“I did not send him to steal that damned fern,” Ellerbeck hissed. “He wanted it for his own, private experiments. Daykin had told him about it. Nothing would do but that he had to have it.”
“But he was supposed to be working on the founder’s formula.”
“In order to get him to help us, we had to strike a bargain with him.” Ellerbeck slumped against a workbench and blotted his brow again. “We agreed to finance his private research as long as he made progress on stabilizing the formula.”
“But he wasn’t successful, was he?”
“I have no notion, Miss Bromley, and I never will now because I will soon be dead. Everything has gone wrong because you brought Caleb Jones into this affair.”
The hand holding the gun was shaking.
“One more question,” she said softly. “Why did you kill my fiancé?”
“I had no choice.” Ellerbeck snorted. “Glasson was nothing if not a consummate opportunist. He suspected that I was the one who killed your father and Woodhall. He followed me to Daykin’s shop and realized that I was dealing in poison. He tried to blackmail me. I had to get rid of him. That little scuffle between the two of you in the Carstairs Botanical Society gardens set the stage very nicely.”
“You are responsible for the deaths of a number of people, Mr. Ellerbeck, but it ends now. You will not kill me.”
“You are wrong, Miss Bromley.” The gun wavered precariously in Ellerbeck’s hand. “I will have my vengeance if it is the last thing I do.”
“You are no longer capable of aiming that gun at me, let alone of pulling the trigger. You are quite exhausted and you will soon collapse into a deep sleep.”
“Wh . . . what are you talking about?”
“I put a drug into your tea,” she said gently. “It works very rapidly.”
Ellerbeck trembled, as though in the grip of a raging fever. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. The gun slipped from his hand. He stared at her, uncomprehending.
“You poisoned me?” he whispered.
“The moment I walked into your house today I sensed the terrible energy emanating from this conservatory. I knew something was very wrong. When your housekeeper went to inform you that I had arrived, I took a sleeping powder from my satchel. It is odorless and tasteless. I had no difficulty slipping it into your tea. You have drunk two full cups of it.”
“Impossible,” he gasped. “I watched you pour the tea. I saw no bottles or packets that could have contained poison.”
Glass splintered and shattered. Caleb walked into the conservatory. The gun in his hand was leveled at Ellerbeck.
“Are you all right?” he said to Lucinda without taking his eyes off Ellerbeck.
“Yes,” she said.
Ellerbeck crumpled to his knees. “How did you do it?” he demanded. “How did you poison my tea?”
She held up her ungloved hand so that he could see her lapis-and-amber ring. Very deliberately she opened the tiny, hinged lid to reveal the hidden chamber.
“Some of the stories about me are true, Mr. Ellerbeck.”
FORTY-SIX
“THE GOOD NEWS IS THAT HULSEY DID NOT HAVE AN opportunity to return to Ellerbeck’s residence to remove any files and records,” Caleb said. “There may be something useful among the papers and notebooks that Fletcher and I confiscated.”
They were in her library. Caleb was stalking up and down in front of the hearth. He had been doing a great deal of stalking about since arriving a short time ago. She was seated at her desk, hands clasped on top, doing her best to hang on to her patience.
“Hulsey was probably waiting for the full effects of the poison to take hold,” Lucinda said. “He no doubt meant to go back last night when he could have been certain that Ellerbeck was dying. Fortunately, I got there yesterday afternoon, instead.”
“There was nothing fortunate about your presence in Ellerbeck’s household.” Caleb shot her a dangerous look. “Damn it, Lucinda, you could have been killed. What the devil did you think you were doing, dashing off alone to see him?”
“That is approximately the fiftieth time you have asked me that question,” Lucinda said. “And I have given you the same answer at least as many times. I went there because he sent me a note saying that he was dying and wanted to say farewell.”
“You should have waited until I could accompany you,” he said.
“You forget, sir,” she said, resigning herself to the endless lecture. “This is Ira Ellerbeck we are discussing. I believed him to be my father’s friend.
And it was not as though I went alone. I took Shute with me.”
“For all the good it did,” Caleb muttered. “Shute was in the street outside the house. He had no way of knowing you were in danger. You should have left the instant you sensed the dangerous energy in that household.”
She pursed her lips. “I suppose that would have been the appropriate course of action.”
“You suppose so?” He stopped in front of the desk, flattened his hands on the surface and leaned forward in what could only be described as a menacing fashion. “What sort of shabby reasoning is that?”
“I never said logic was involved. The moment I entered that house, I knew that the solution to my father’s murder was there. I could not leave without the answers.”
“Let us be clear on this, Lucinda. I will not tolerate such reckless behavior in the future. Do you comprehend me?”
Her strained temper finally snapped. She shot to her feet. “I am not the only one whose behavior could be considered reckless. What of the manner in which you went to interview that kidnapper? You insisted on going alone and you were nearly murdered by Allister Norcross as a result.”
“That was different.”
“I fail to see how.”
“Damnation, Lucinda, if you are going to be a partner in this firm, you will learn to follow orders.”
“I will be a partner, not an employee. By definition, partners do not take orders.”
“Then you will damn well learn to confer with the other partner in this agency before you take such rash actions.”
“Come now, Caleb. You are overreacting here.”
“I have not begun to react. You will never again attempt any such ventures without consulting with me.” He circled the desk, seized her by the shoulders and hauled her hard against his chest. “Do we have an understanding, Lucinda?”
She thought about the harrowing energy that she had sensed emanating from him when he crashed through the door to Ellerbeck’s conservatory yesterday afternoon. In that moment she knew that he had been driven half mad with fear for her safety. A half-mad Caleb Jones was a very dangerous man, indeed. She did not want to put him through that kind of ordeal ever again.