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When Fogarty was through, he stood up and gestured to the side. I stuck my head over the wire and saw it went to the stopper of a glass vial perched on top of a barrel of whitish powder. Hancock was an inventor of weapons. I guessed this was one of his creations.
Fogarty carefully unhooked the wire from the loops on either side of the doorway and pushed it to the side. Now no one could accidently trigger the fire or explosion or whatever Lord Hancock had pla
Fogarty set down his lantern and pulled out his pistol. Then, with a nod, he pushed open the door and the three of us spilled into the room.
I had never seen a room like it before. Once it had been a small ballroom, but now it was covered with tables holding glass vials in metal stands with gas jets underneath, glass tubes ru
In the very center in the crossroads of two aisles, Emma sat bound to a large wooden chair with thick ropes. Her head drooped forward. There was blood on her skirt. I reached for my dagger.
Fogarty put out a hand to stop me.
“I’m glad someone in your group has some sense.” Lord Hancock, in a heavy canvas coat like the one Lady Westover wore for gardening, stood facing us a few feet away from Emma. He stood behind a table three rows back, measuring an orange powder into a beaker.
Emma looked up then, and I saw relief in her eyes. She tried to squirm, but she was tied too tightly to move more than a shiver. Then she glanced upward.
That was when I noticed the beaker of clear liquid poised over Emma’s head. It was held in place by a rope and pulley that ran through a glass dish containing a reddish jelly. The dish was on a metal stand. A few inches beneath the dish sat an upright tubular gas jet, and Lord Hancock stood near the gas jet. He set down the beaker and picked up a friction match.
“Would you like a demonstration of how this works? I’d love to show you, but I don’t think your friend would like the outcome. Acid causes such frightful burns.”
I thought for a moment I’d throw up. Emma was so incredibly beautiful, inside and out. I’d never once regretted my decision years before to take her in. She was my sister in all but name, and at that moment she depended on me to save her. “Why did you abduct her from the ball?”
“You were the only two not a
I had to find a way to stop this madman. Taking a deep breath to steady my heartbeat, I said, “But why abduct Emma?”
“To use her for a trade, of course. Her life for Nicholas Drake and his papers.”
As long as he was talking, he wouldn’t strike the match and Emma would be safe for the moment. “Why use Emma for a trade? Wouldn’t anyone do?”
“She’s part of the Archivist Society. The society found Nicholas Drake. I want him. Turn him over to me. Now.” He waved the gas jet to his left. “And make this man disappear.”
Glancing in the direction he pointed, I saw Sumner standing with his weight on the balls of his feet and a knife poised in his hand. He and Fogarty seemed to have reached some sort of agreement with the slightest of moves.
Hoping I’d make a good distraction, I took two steps forward but I wasn’t nearly close enough to pull Emma free. How long did we have until Hancock decided to act? The man was insane. “Why did you bring Emma here? I thought you’d moved out.”
“It’s being stolen from me by my creditors. I used it to get loans to continue my research, but I’ve not been able to sell any of my ideas and couldn’t repay the loans. They’ve been trying to take this away from me since last summer. My laboratory!”
“Why bring Emma here when you never let anyone in?”
“Because I knew you couldn’t resist coming here to search for her. And I have the advantage of knowing every inch of my laboratory and what each chemical will do.”
I tried again. “Why are you doing all this?”
His sneer said he didn’t think I was too bright. “Ultimately? Recognition in my field. My inventions in use by the British army. Respect. Drake stands in my way. He and those damnable papers will ruin me. I should have destroyed them long ago, but I didn’t know about the one until recently when Drake told me what he’d stolen from Daisy. And I kept the other locked safely in here where only I would see it. That letter’s a memento of my cleverness. That is, until Drake broke in here and stole my prize from me.”
“It wasn’t very clever to let Drake gain the upper hand.” Seeing his eyes narrow and his grip on the gas jet tighten, I knew I’d erred badly. I held up my hands, palms out. “We’re not experts in your field. And Drake knows nothing about weapons. He’s not in a position to order your inventions. What do you want with him?”
“I don’t want him. I want what he has. His blackmail papers.” Lord Hancock struck the match.
“What’s in Drake’s papers that you want?” Desperation clogged my voice. I knew Lord Hancock could hear it. I certainly could.
“That’s none of your business.” He moved the match toward the gas jet as he turned it on.
“Wait! If it’s a document or letter, Drake doesn’t have it any longer.”
He turned off the gas and blew out the match. “What do you mean, ‘any longer’?”
“He sold all his papers. He handed them over to a buyer tonight. You don’t have to worry about Nicholas Drake any longer.”
“Who did he sell them to?”
“The Duke of Blackford.”
“Bloody hell. He’s worse to negotiate with than Drake. Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. All I know is the duke said he’s giving the papers to someone else. All of the papers.”
“Who?”
“Someone who would never harm you.” My voice rattled from my shivers.
“Who?” Louder this time.
“The head of the Archivist Society. Sir Broderick duVene.”
He stared at me for a moment before speaking, and I exhaled with exhaustion. I hadn’t realized how stiffly I was holding myself in my terror over Emma’s plight.
“He’s giving all the blackmail letters to the head of the Archivist Society? After he paid good money for them? Why would he do that?”
I had captured Hancock’s attention for the moment. I hoped I could hold it until someone thought of a way to stop him or to free Emma. “Blackford only wanted a few of them that belonged to him. He doesn’t care about the rest of the letters.”
“It doesn’t matter whether it’s Blackford or Sir Broderick who reads them. Once those letters are read, I’m a dead man.” He began a crooning wail as he twisted his whole body from side to side.
“You’re a dead man? Why? What could be so terrible?” Anything to keep him talking.
“Army headquarters rejected my latest invention today. The official said not to worry. Perhaps some other time.” He gave a hysterical laugh. “And the chair of the Royal Society told me they’ll reconsider my application for full membership in the autumn. Said he was sorry. Nothing he could do. I need two useful inventions, not just one, to become a full member.”