بخش 18

CHAPTER 34

A VISITOR

IT WAS VERY LATE NOW— more morning than night—and Molly had given up on even the hope of sleep.

She’d tried reading by the light of an oil lamp, but she couldn’t concentrate. Most of the time she stood looking out her window, watching Mr. Jarvis standing guard in front, under the gas streetlight.

She was watching him when a tap at her door made her jump.

Molly went to the door, expecting to be reprimanded by her mother for being awake at this late hour. When she opened the door she was quite surprised to see the new maid, still in uniform.

“Yes, Jenna?” Molly said. “What is it?”

“I was just wondering if the young lady needed anything,” said Jenna.

“No, thank you,” said Molly. She started to close the door, but Jenna remained in the doorway, motionless, the intensity of her gaze disconcerting to Molly.

“Is there anything else?” said Molly.

“I was just thinking that, as it’s quite late, perhaps the young lady should go to bed.”

“Thank you, Jenna,” Molly answered stiffly, “but I’m fine.”

Jenna stepped forward a half step—almost menacingly, Molly thought.

“But the young lady should go to bed,” said Jenna, her tone insistent. “To get her rest. I don’t think Lady Aster would want to know the young lady was up at this hour.”

Molly was shocked by this impertinence, and the implied threat. She allowed her ire to overcome her breeding as she responded with an impertinent question of her own.

“How did you know I was awake?” she said. “And why are you up at this hour?”

If Jenna was intimidated—if she felt any emotion at all—she did not betray it in her cool and steady gaze.

“I heard the young lady moving about, and came up to see if the young lady needed anything,” she said, ignoring Molly’s second question.

“As I told you,” Molly said icily, “I do not.”

Jenna appeared to be about to say something more, but was apparently dissuaded by Molly’s expression.

“Was there anything else?” Molly said, her hand on the door.

“No, ma’am,” said Jenna.

“Good night, then,” said Molly, closing the door. She stood there, listening, feeling the presence of Jenna twelve inches away on the other side of the door. Finally, after a very long minute, she heard the maid’s footsteps leaving.

What cheek, thought Molly. She sat on her bed, stewing for a bit, and as her anger subsided, troubling thoughts arose. How could Jenna have heard her moving about? She was sure she hadn’t made much noise, and her room, in one of the towers at the top of the house, was a full three floors away from the maids’ quarters.

Why was Jenna awake? Why had she come up? Why was she so insistent that I go to bed?

She sat there thinking for a few more minutes.

Then she rose and blew out the oil lamp.

Then she went back to the window and resumed watching the street. CHAPTER 35

A WALK IN THE DARK

THE FIVE MEN RODE inside the cab of a black, horse-drawn taxi, Ombra and Nerezza on a bouncy bench facing Gerch, “Constable” Hampton, and Slank, the three crammed shoulder to shoulder, facing backward. The sound of the horse hooves clippity-clopping on the cobblestones kept their voices from being overheard by the driver.

Nerezza pulled back the small window curtains. They had ordered the cabbie to take the long way around to the Aster house, avoiding the busier Uxbridge Road in favor of Silver Street and Church Lane. But peering out the window, Nerezza had no idea where they were; he saw only darkness. He took a deep breath; his wooden nose whistled.

Gerch and Hampton tried not to stare at Ombra, but they couldn’t help themselves. Ever since the dark shape had appeared on the deck of Le Fantome, oozing from below more like a cloud than a man, the two had kept eyes on him, the way the fox never loses track of the hounds.

Both men jumped when the groaning voice spoke, coming from somewhere in the dark-hooded void where Ombra’s face should have been: “Describe the situation at the house.”

Gerch cleared his throat and straightened his posture. His voice cracked as he said, “Hampton?”

Hampton, not eager to be the object of attention of the dark thing across from him, spoke nervously in a thick Cockney accent. “One out front, name of Jarvis. ’Nother around back called Cadigan. And a third man, Hodge, inside the house.”

“The location of the man inside?”

“That there varies night to night, sir,” Hampton said. “But we’ve got a housemaid inside, keeping track for when the time comes.”

“The time has come,” Ombra said. “Stop the cab.”

Nerezza banged his fist on the wall. Immediately the clippity-clop slowed, then stopped. Nerezza peered through the curtain. Nerezza saw that they were stopped now near the south end of Kensington Palace Gardens, within walking distance of the Aster mansion. He wondered how Ombra had known, with the curtains drawn, where they were, but he did not intend to ask. He opened the cab door and stepped out, followed by the others.

Nerezza paid the driver, then pressed an extra coin into his hand and told him to await their return. The cabbie agreed somewhat reluctantly. Something about these passengers made him nervous, and his horse was acting skittish, nearly bolting when the cloaked one had approached the cab.

Church Lane was pitch black and quiet. The chilly air smelled of smoke. With Ombra gliding ahead, the group moved away from the cab, into the night. They turned left onto a broad street, holding to the side away from the string of gas streetlamps.

Halfway up the street, Ombra stopped; the others caught up.

“Mister Slank,” groaned Ombra, “you will stay here and keep watch.”

Slank nodded and stepped behind a tree, now invisible from the street.

Ombra resumed gliding up the street, passing several more mansions, then stopped as the light in front of the Aster house loomed in the distance. Barely discernible at the edge of its wan glow was the figure of Jarvis, standing guard.

“Mister Gerch,” Ombra groaned quietly as the others reached him, “you and Captain Nerezza will remain here, out of sight. I shall signal you when Mister Jarvis is no longer a concern. Constable Hampton, you will lead the way. We’ll cross the street here. Don’t bother about me. You will walk past and engage Mister Jarvis in conversation. You must make sure that he stands in the light. Do you understand?”

“Yes…Yes, sir…m’lord,” stammered Hampton.

“Not in the shadow, but the light,” repeated Ombra. “And when I approach, you make sure his attention is elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere,” echoed Hampton, twitching his nose like a nervous rat. “Yes, m’lord.”

“Go,” groaned Ombra.

Hampton stepped into the street, crossing toward the mansion. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Ombra was following him. But he saw only Gerch and Nerezza in the distance; there was no sign of Ombra.

“Go!”

Hampton jumped at the voice, which came from…where?

Quickly he turned back and resumed walking, feeling the unseen presence behind him, looking ahead at the streetlight and the dark figure of Jarvis. Hampton did not know what was about to happen, but he did know this: he was glad he wasn’t Jarvis.