“Yes. Emma and Lancing, however, were convinced that they were only a step away from success. They believed that the secret lay in the paranormal properties of the eyes of the Anubis statue they had discovered.”
“The gemstones that you said were missing?”
“Right,” Joshua said. “They began an intensive search for the eyes.”
“I’m surprised they believe that there would be anything left to revive,” Beatrice said. “After all, the traditional Egyptian manner of preserving the dead involved removing most of the organs and the brain.”
“This was an entirely different process. According to the papyrus, time was of the essence. The newly deceased were to be immersed immediately in a chemical bath that supposedly plunged them into a state of suspended animation. They remained in the Egyptian Water until healed of whatever disease or injury had caused their death. Later they could be revived with the energy infused in the Anubis statue.”
Beatrice shook her head. “Madness.”
“Yes.” Joshua turned back to face her. “Their obsession with the Egyptian Water did become a form of madness, at least as far as Lancing was concerned. He began carrying out human experiments.”
Beatrice flinched in shock. “Dear heaven.”
“He selected his victims from among the poorest and most wretched of street people. When Emma discovered that he was murdering innocent people in his quest, she was horrified. She made the mistake of confronting him. He made her a prisoner in his mansion. Victor finally realized that his daughter was in grave danger. He sent me to rescue Emma. I arrived too late.”
“What happened?”
“Emma tried to escape on her own,” Joshua said. “Lancing caught her. In his madness he thought that she was running to me, that she loved me. He thought she had betrayed him. He strangled her. I found her body on the floor of the laboratory. Lancing appeared. He said Emma was dead because of me. He said he had been waiting for me, that we were all going to die together. He set off the explosion.”
“It was a trap,” Beatrice whispered. “But you survived.”
He looked at his cane. “To this day, I’m not sure how I made it into that stone hallway in time. The walls protected me to some extent from the full force of the explosion. But the blast was followed by a fire.”
“How did you escape?”
“My memories of what happened after the explosion are more in the nature of fever dreams. Lancing kept a lot of powerful chemicals in his laboratory, including that incense you encountered last night. The blast and the fire released fumes into the atmosphere. I used my shirt to cover my mouth and nose but by the time I got out of the house I was hallucinating.”
She studied his scar. “And losing blood, as well. The combination would cloud anyone’s memories. Were the bodies ever recovered?”
“Yes, at least we assumed so at the time. My injuries kept me from returning to the scene for weeks. Victor Hazelton went to the site with a crew of laborers, but they had to wait days for the rubble to cool down. In the end they found the bodies. Both were burned beyond recognition. The doctor who examined the corpses declared one was male and the other female. That was the end of the matter. Hazelton grieves to this day. He will for the rest of his life.”
“That was why he retired from his role as Mr. Smith?”
“He was the Lion, defender of the empire,” Joshua said, his tone almost reverent. “But after Emma died he said he no longer cared about the future of England. As far as he is concerned, it is buried with Emma.”
“He blames you for her death?”
“Not in so many words. But, yes, we both know that I failed him. The last time I saw him was at Emma’s funeral. We have not spoken or communicated with each other since that day.”
“An obsessive grief can drive a man mad into despair,” Beatrice said. “In such a state he will shut out even those who are dear to him.”
Joshua looked out at the gardens. “I know.”
She got to her feet and went to stand beside him.
“But still you blame yourself,” she said.
Joshua said nothing.
Unable to think of any words that might comfort or console him, she did the only thing she could think of. She touched the hand he used to grip the cane. She felt the now-familiar whisper of awareness that stirred between them and wondered if he felt it, too.
Joshua looked down at her hand on his as though not sure what to make of the small, intimate gesture. She could almost feel him pulling himself out of the past and back into the present.
“Now you are wondering if it’s possible that Lancing survived the fire,” she said.
“It’s a remote possibility but it has to be considered. It’s more likely that someone has found his notebooks and used them to create that incense drug. Whatever the case, I have no choice but to discover the truth and the search starts here at Alverstoke Hall.”
“I assume you will talk to the staff and examine the guest list?”
“Perhaps. But first I’m going to take another look around the great hall. I did not have time to make a thorough job of it last night.”
“I’ll come with you,” she said quickly.
“I do not want you involved in this affair.”
“You said, yourself, I am involved.”
“I’ll make arrangements to keep you safe in London while I pursue the investigation,” Joshua said.
“We are not in London at the moment,” she said, keeping her voice steady and cool. Joshua would not respond to passionate demands or a hot argument. Only logic would get through his stubborn head. “You have said before that I have exceptional powers of observation. Where is the harm in allowing me to go back into the antiquities chamber? Who knows? I may see something that will bring back a helpful memory.”
Twenty-Five
I was not hallucinating, after all,” Beatrice said. She looked at the seething footprints on the floor. “The man who murdered Roland was, indeed, here last night. He waited there, behind that large statue. When the blackmailer arrived he crossed the room to the altar and murdered him.”
“But first he probably used the incense to incapacitate his victim,” Joshua said. “He used it again when you arrived.”
They were standing near the sarcophagus in the great hall, attempting to piece together a picture of what had transpired during the night. The lamps were illuminated but at Beatrice’s request they were turned down low. Joshua had not argued when she had explained that it was easier to see the wispy traces of energy in the shadows. She knew he did not believe that she could actually make out the paranormal prints of the killer and his victim, but he was willing to let her handle her side of the investigation her way.
She glanced at him and saw that he was examining the alabaster bowl that contained the remains of the incense.
“I have been meaning to ask you two questions,” she said. “First, how is it that you were not affected by the smoke last night?”
“I did the same thing that I did when I escaped from the burning laboratory last year. I covered my nose and mouth with a cloth and tried not to breathe any more than absolutely necessary. It did not take long to find you and remove you from this chamber. A matter of two or three minutes, no more.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“When I entered the room I could smell traces of the stuff. That gave me time to take precautions.”
“It affected all my senses,” Beatrice said. “I got dizzy and I started to hallucinate. It was as if the statues were coming alive.”
“If you ever smell the stuff again, cover your nose and mouth and try to get down low to the floor.”
“Why?”
“The fumes are carried in the form of smoke, which rises.”
“Yes, of course. I should have thought of that.”
“You were caugh
t by surprise,” he said very seriously. “And there was the shock of finding the body. That sort of thing can be disorienting.”
She smiled to herself. “Thank you for your understanding. If you had not found me when you did, I suspect we would not be here chatting today.” She looked at the bloodstains on the altar and shivered. “That brings me to my other question.”
Joshua moved across the space to examine the altar.
“What?” he asked.
“How did you know that I was in danger? No one came or went from this chamber. The blackmailer was killed before I arrived and the assassin was already inside when I entered the room. What alerted you to my situation?”
“Sometimes one gets a feeling that things have gone wrong with a plan.”
“Yes,” she said. “I know the feeling. It’s called intuition.”
“If you are about to inform me that intuition is a psychical talent, you may as well save your breath.”
“You don’t think it’s paranormal in nature?”
“No, I do not,” he said. “It’s merely a combination of observations—some of which are so small that we are not even consciously aware of them—and unconscious awareness of the connections between those observations.”
“Some might call that psychical awareness,” she said.
He paid no attention. “Last night while I was watching the door to this chamber I noticed a faint but detectable draft in the hallway outside. It was coming from this room.”
“A draft, hmmm? And what does that tell us?”
“It tells us that there is another door in here, most likely a set of servants’ stairs.”
She glanced around. “I don’t see another door.”
“Walk me through the events of last night from the very beginning.”
She did as he asked. When she finished the short narrative she came to a halt in front of the altar.
“This is where I was standing when the fumes overcame my senses,” she said. “I had just seen the body and noticed the killer’s psychical prints. I sensed another presence in the chamber. I thought I saw one of the statues coming toward me.”
“Which one?”
“It was the jackal-headed god, Anubis, in his partially human form.” She wrinkled her nose. “I know, it sounds ridiculous now, but at the time I could have sworn it was a statue come to life.”
“Or a man wearing a mask,” Joshua suggested.
“Why would the killer wear a mask?”
“Two reasons, first to protect him from the incense.”
“Yes, of course. And the second reason?”
“To cast terror into the hearts of his victims. He knows that the incense is causing them to hallucinate. The mask would generate more fear. Some professionals enjoy that aspect of the kill.”
She drew a breath. “I see.”
“What else did you observe?” Joshua asked.
“Nothing very helpful, I’m afraid. I saw Anubis coming toward me. He spoke in a Russian accent. Something about Did you think you could escape me, little whore? And then I saw the light you struck. The killer realized he had been discovered and he fled. That’s all I remember.”
“Now we must find the source of the draft that I detected. You say the voice came from behind you?”
“Yes.”
“The killer did not go past me on his way out, so the second door must be here somewhere.”
Joshua started toward the nearest wall. She knew he intended to conduct a methodical search for the source of the draft. She cleared her throat.
“I think I can save you some time,” she said.
He glanced at her. “How?”
She looked down at the trail of seething footsteps. “I believe you’ll find the door over there behind that granite figure.”
He raised his brows. At first she thought he would ignore what she had said and continue to search in his own fashion. To her surprise, however, he crossed the chamber to the large stone statue and disappeared behind it.
“There is a servants’ door back here,” he announced. “Excellent observation, Beatrice.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I made it with my paranormal senses.”
He reappeared from behind the granite figure. “It’s far more likely you felt the draft yourself last night and registered the approximate location using your normal sense.”
“You are very good at concocting normal explanations to explain the paranormal.”
“That is because the normal explanations usually suffice.”
“Mmm.”
She walked through the maze of antiquities to join him. When she rounded the granite figure she saw that the door had been designed to be as unobtrusive as possible. Its location behind a jumble of relics made it virtually undetectable from anywhere else in the chamber. A large portion of a tomb painting stood directly in front of it.
“The killer knew about this door,” Joshua said. “That means he has more than a passing familiarity with the hall. Clement Lancing moved in a circle that included a number of collectors. He would have known Alverstoke.”
“Do you think Lancing is the killer?”
“No,” Joshua said. “Lancing had no skill with a knife. He would have used other methods. Poison, most likely.”
Joshua wrapped one hand around the doorknob and twisted. The door opened easily enough. Beatrice found herself peering at a flight of stone steps that disappeared into a sea of night. The killer’s footprints burned on the steps.
“He was in a rage,” she said. “Furious because he had been interrupted before he could finish whatever it was he came here to do.”
Joshua contemplated the darkness for a moment.
“I’ll get a lantern,” he said. “We will find out where this leads.”
Twenty-Six
A short time later they started down the ancient steps. Beatrice held the lantern. The light splashed on old stone as they made their way downward into the depths of the old house.
“I can see the killer’s footsteps in the dust,” Joshua said. “He entered the mansion using this passage and he left the same way.”
Beatrice heightened her talent and studied the hot prints. “Yes, it’s the same man who was waiting for me last night, the assassin who murdered Roland. I’m sure of it.”
“It’s an obvious enough conclusion.”
“It’s a good thing I have long been accustomed to having people question my abilities,” she said. “Otherwise I might take offense at your constant skepticism.”
“I do not mean to offend you.” There was genuine apology in his voice. “It is just that I think you have a rather vivid imagination.”
“Do you ever allow your imagination to get carried away by fanciful thoughts, Mr. Gage?”
“I do my best to guard against those sorts of distractions. They rarely yield any useful results.”
“But on occasion?” she prompted.
“I’m only human.”
“You say that as if it were a serious character flaw.”
They descended a few more steps and rounded a corner into another dank passageway. Beatrice’s heart sank. The corridor that stretched before them was narrow and filled with unrelenting darkness. She felt the old, familiar edginess spike higher. She held the lantern aloft, hoping to cast the light farther into the shadows.
“Last night,” Joshua said.
The words came out of nowhere. Beatrice wondered if, in her struggle to control her nerves, she had missed something in the conversation.
“Sorry,” she said. “What about last night?”
She forced herself to breathe slowly and evenly. She could do this. She had a lantern. Joshua was with her.
“Last night when we kissed in that alcove,” Joshua said. “That was the last time I got distracted by fanciful thoughts.”
/> “Oh, I see.” She was not sure what to say to that. She knew she was blushing again and for a few seconds she was grateful for the flood tide of darkness that surrounded her.
She was trying to come up with an appropriate response when Joshua stopped abruptly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, shivering a little.
“The air has changed. You can smell the sea.”
She breathed in cautiously, paying close attention to the atmosphere. Then she caught it, the unmistakable whisper of salt-tinged air. There was a muffled roar in the distance. The pounding of waves on a rocky shore, she thought.
“This passage must lead to the sea.” She looked down at the traces of energy on the stone floor. “By the time he got this far he was calmer, more controlled. But he was still frustrated and angry. No, it’s more than just anger. It’s a kind of obsessive rage.”
“A logical assumption based on our knowledge of him,” Joshua said. “He is a professional in a bloody business. But like any professional, he prides himself on his expertise. Naturally he would have been in a fury because he was unsuccessful tonight.”
“You can’t bring yourself to admit that I might be able to see some traces of paranormal energy that he left behind, can you?”
“You arrived at your conclusion with logic and intuition, whether you know it or not.”
“Mrs. Flint and Mrs. Marsh were certainly right when they said that clients were always the most difficult part of the business.”
“Are you implying that I’m your client?” he asked.
“That is exactly what you are, sir. You are paying Flint and Marsh for my services. That makes you a client.”
“The hell it does. We will sort that out some other time.”
He went forward more quickly now, his stick creating a steady drumbeat on the stone. Beatrice picked up her skirts, relieved to be moving faster. Physical motion helped suppress the oppressive sensation that gnawed at her.
The sound of the crashing waves grew louder. So did the dampness around them. The stone walls of the tunnel ended suddenly, giving way to the interior of a large cave. Restless seawater filled the lower portion of the cavern, churning and sloshing around a small wooden dock that was designed to rise and fall with the tide. The outside entrance was not visible from where Beatrice stood but she could feel the currents of fresh air that flowed into the space.