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“He’ll be fine as long as you follow directions.” Hancock used a quieter voice, but the menace was unmistakable. I balanced on my toes, ready to move again when there was more noise upstairs.
“Oh, this is terrible. You must stop this at once. I insist. He needs medical attention,” Emma shouted again. This time, the volume of her voice hid my steps across the entry hall and opening the door.
I slipped out and eased the door shut behind me. Then I looked up and down the street in a panic. No sign of a bobby. I decided my best chance was toward New Oxford Street and rushed in that direction. People might have stared. I didn’t care.
I’d run two blocks before I found a policeman. Relieved, I let my feet slow as I tried to pull air into my aching lungs. When I reached the bobby, I gasped out, “You must get a message to Inspector Grantham at Scotland Yard immediately. He’s after a killer named Hancock. The man is in Sir Broderick duVene’s house, holding him and others hostage. Inspector Grantham must come at once.”
“I’ll come with you, miss,” the bobby said, sounding doubtful.
I grabbed his arm by his scratchy wool sleeve and stared into his eyes. “Not until you get a message to Inspector Grantham to come at once.”
The bobby slowly pulled out his notebook and a pencil, and I let go of his arm.
“Inspector Grantham, Scotland Yard,” I repeated. “Hancock has taken prisoners at Sir Broderick duVene’s house. First-floor study. Come at once.”
He laboriously printed every word. “And how would you know this?”
“I escaped from there.”
His pencil hovered in midair. “How did you do that?”
“He didn’t realize I was in the house. I sneaked out the front door. Hurry. We must get that note to Inspector Grantham immediately. He’ll know what to do.” I raised my voice, hoping futilely it would speed up his writing.
The constable flipped over to the next page in his notebook and continued printing. “And your name is . . . ?”
“Miss Georgia Fenchurch.” My fingers itched to grab the pencil and write the message myself.
More printing, onto the third page. “And this Sir Broderick duVene. What’s his address?”
“The inspector knows. That’s why you need to see this message gets to him immediately.”
A tall, antique carriage rounded the corner. I began to wave my arms frantically. “That’s the Duke of Blackford. He’ll help. We’ll get this message passed on to Scotland Yard now,” I shouted.
The duke, looking spotless and wearing perfect creases, without an errant curl in his precisely combed hair, climbed down from his carriage and set his top hat on his head. “Miss Fenchurch, what’s wrong?”
I grabbed his arm, wrinkling the soft fabric of his coat sleeve. “Thank heavens you’re here. Lord Hancock is holding Sir Broderick and Emma hostage in Sir Broderick’s study at gunpoint.”
“At gunpoint?” The bobby’s pencil scratched faster across his notebook.
“Bloody hell, man. Get that message to Detective Inspector Grantham at Scotland Yard immediately,” the duke said in his most commanding ducal tones. Then he called up to the carriage driver, “Take this police officer to Scotland Yard and wait for his return with Inspector Grantham. Sumner, come with us.”
Sumner jumped down from the carriage, and the bobby backed up at the first sight of his scarred face. With an evil-looking grin, Sumner said, “Need a hand up?”
The bobby darted past him and clambered inside.
The carriage took off, and Sumner and the duke rushed up the sidewalk with me. Sumner growled “He has Emma?” in his raspy voice.
“Yes.”
Heat flashed in the man’s eyes, and I suddenly felt almost sorry for Hancock. “How is your wounded arm, Mr. Sumner?”
“It won’t slow me down.”
The duke broke in with rapid-fire questions. “How long has he been there? Does he have any of his chemicals with him? What kind of a gun does he have?”
“I don’t know. Emma went ahead of me, so she was the only one Hancock saw. I never reached the study. I left the house and went looking for help.” I sounded like a coward to my ears, but it was the only plan I’d had at that moment. All I could do now was dash back into the house and pray none of my friends were hurt.
“Does he know you were in there?”
“He didn’t seem to when I left.”
“Sumner, are you armed?” the duke asked.
“Always.”
“If you get a clear opening, take it. Don’t wait for my permission once we enter the study.”
Sumner nodded once.
We reached the house. “The door’s unlocked and doesn’t squeak. The study is upstairs and on the right,” I whispered.
“Wait outside,” the duke said.
“No. He won’t be alarmed to see me. I can get in first and signal you as to where everyone is.” I looked into both men’s eyes. “You know it’s the only way.” I didn’t see agreement, but I didn’t care. Archivist Society members were in danger. I couldn’t stand aside and leave them in peril.
I turned the knob and marched briskly and noisily across the hall and up the stairs, the duke in step with me at my back. “Sir Broderick?”
“This isn’t a good time for a social call,” he said loudly. I hoped Hancock hadn’t learned I’d been here earlier with Emma.
“Anytime is a good time for a social call.” I stomped up the rest of the stairs and stopped in the doorway to the study as if I’d hit a wall. I tried to speak but no words came out.
Jacob was tied up on the floor, his head bloody, his body limp. Emma and Dominique were tied back to back, their arms bound behind them. Both of them were gagged. The ropes binding one woman’s legs wrapped around the other’s throat. If either moved, the other died of strangulation. Sir Broderick sat in his wheeled chair, his hands pi
Lord Hancock was gone.
“Who did this?” I cried as I ran first to the two women. As my fingers fumbled with a knot, the Duke of Blackford reached around me with a knife and sliced the rope wrapped around Emma’s throat.
I pulled the gag out of her mouth and she whispered, “Behind you.”
I whirled around, air leaking from my lungs with a gasping sound. Lord Hancock had pushed the door half-closed so he could come out from the corner where he’d hidden. The barrel of the gun in his hand looked large enough to bring down an elephant.
The duke had already freed Dominique’s neck by the time Hancock said, “So the duke arrived with Miss Fenchurch. Good. Now, who has my letters? Sir Broderick says you didn’t give them to him last night. Miss Fenchurch told me you would.”
Blackford sounded completely relaxed when he said, “I don’t have your papers with me. I only pla
“Once again, I move against people to get back my papers, only to learn they don’t have them. Blackford, you’re no better than Drake.”
“What do you mean, ‘once again’?” I asked before I considered the wisdom of my words.
“I sent a fool with a bottle of phosphorus and other chemicals to burn down that house outside of Hounslow and get rid of Drake and the letters in one move. It wasn’t until later I learned he got the wrong man and the letters weren’t there. You can’t imagine my disappointment.” He sounded a