Whether it was alcohol, or brine, or some mixture of the two was unknown to Matthew, but the solution carried with it a twisted white squid that for a few seconds plastered itself to Mother Deare’s forehead. Her scream changed from outrage to a higher pitch of pain. Her free hand went to her eyes, but she held onto the knife and suddenly became a frenzied whirlwind, spinning this way and that, the blade slashing wildly in all directions. Blinded or not, she propelled herself toward Professor Fell. He was nimble enough to dodge the first swings of the dagger but then her hand found and caught the shoulder of his coat. With an animalish roar she lifted the knife to plunge it into his chest.

Before Matthew could move, a figure rushed past him. In the blur of motion he saw a pistol’s barrel being pressed against the side of the madwoman’s head, and the sharp crack of the shot was followed by Mother Deare’s brain matter spraying across the specimen shelves.

The knife at its zenith was halted by a hand that gripped the wrist. Mother Deare’s knees buckled, her squat body began to fall, and Julian Devane let her go.

She crashed to the floor. Incredibly, even brain shot, she pulled her knees up beneath her and tried to rise again. Both Professor Fell and Devane drew back through the blue smoke curling across the room, and Matthew saw in their faces the stark expressions of fear, that the woman’s lifeforce was powerful enough to keep her moving with deadly purpose even with a bloody hole in her scarred skull.

She almost got up to a full standing position. Her bloodshot eyes appeared to be near bursting from her face. From her mouth came the mangled words that sounded like the voice of a child crying out as she tumbled into a bottomless pit.

Then she went down again in front of Fell and Devane, her chin smacked against the floor, she shuddered a few times and at last lay still.

No one moved.

Matthew realized he was trembling, and he fully expected Mother Deare to draw in a breath and begin to rise again, a braindead phoenix energized by the strength of her ambition and the strange love she had for Cardinal Black.

But … she was gone.

Fell staggered. He put a hand against the nearest wall to steady himself. He gazed around the study and said listlessly, “Look at this terrible mess.”

“You can drop that sword,” Devane said to Matthew.

Matthew was still stunned. He looked at the sword and at the burning wig impaled upon it.

“I suggest,” said Devane, “that you drop the sword now.”

Matthew heard him as if at a distance. It came to him that Devane’s pistol was another single-shot weapon and could not be reloaded fast enough to defend against the blade. Devane had a purple knot on his forehead above the right eye, a mottling of bruises across his left cheekbone and a show of blood from a split lower lip, indicating he’d endured his own travails elsewhere in the village.

Could the man be taken?

Matthew decided he was in no shape for any further combat. And what would the point of that be?

He dropped the sword.

“Ribbenhoff is dead. Not by my hand,” he said. “The man Mother Deare was working with … he calls himself Cardinal Black. He came to the hospital …”

“The hospital?” Fell’s sense of urgency had returned.

“He took Gentry’s book,” Matthew went on, and he had to lower himself into one of the chairs before he lost his own equilibrium. “That’s what all this was about. Somehow Cardinal Black convinced Mother Deare to help him break in here and get the book. She’s been telling him where the Velvet was stored, too.”

“The formulas,” said the professor. “With those in hand, and the botanicals he needs … he won’t be able to recreate the more exotic drugs, but …” He stared down at the dead woman’s body.

“My oldest and most trusted associate. Why did I not see this?”

Matthew noted that Devane remained tight-lipped at this question. “Time moves on,” Matthew said, recalling that Gardner Lillehorne had spoken this exact phrase to him in discussing the rebirth of the criminal element of London beyond Professor Fell’s influence.

The professor grasped Devane’s shoulder. “Thank you, Julian. How goes the situation?”

“They’ve cleared out. We’ve caught three of the horsemen who blew up the gate and we have two of the turncoats. Otherwise we took many casualties. Among them Copeland, Fenna, Leighton and McGowan.”

“We have five tongues to make talk, though.”

“Yes sir.”

“Start that at once. Strip them and have them tied up in the square. Do we have enough men left to do that and put on watch?”

“Guinnessey had a wagon pulled up to block the way in, if they try coming back. I think we have nine men able to shoulder muskets.”

“Not very many.”

“Cardinal Black has what he came for,” said Matthew, who was fighting against a terrible weariness. “One thing, at least.”

“Meaning what?” Fell asked sharply.

“Mother Deare came here for two reasons. To kill you and to get a second book. The one you were reaching for when I came in. Had she just gotten here a moment before? I imagine I made some noise trying to get around Martin’s body.”

“We both heard you on the stairs. She likely thought it might be Julian, the same as I.”

Matthew nodded. “The demoniac,” he said, “wanted as his second prize the book of descriptions of demons and spells on how to raise them. Tell me, Professor … what does The Lesser Key of Solomon have to do with Ciro Valeriani?” When Fell didn’t answer, Matthew said, “He created something in his laboratory that Rosabella told me he tried to destroy, but it wouldn’t let him. What was it?”

Fell remained in silent contemplation for a bit longer, and then he said, “The girl is incorrect. Ciro Valeriani did not create it in his laboratory. From what I’ve gleaned, he created it in his workshop. It is not an object of science.”

“All right, then. What is it?”

“It’s an object,” said the professor, “of furniture.”

“What? A chair that tells fortunes? And it ran away from him when he tried to put an axe to it?”

“It is heartening to see that in all this chaos your imagination is unimpaired. This object—which you do not need to hear the particulars about, for I would like to keep you alive for awhile—not only kept him from destroying it, but it killed him. Such is its power. What it has to do with The Lesser Key, you don’t need to know for your own protection.”

“Protection from what? A devilish bookworm?”

“No,” Fell said. “Protection from me. Julian, I’m putting you in charge of cleaning up, since Fenna is no longer with us. After the prisoners are bound, send as many men as you can spare to go through every house room by room. We don’t want any of their wounded hiding here.” The professor’s eyes had become more focused, and his mouth a cruel slash. “As for the prisoners, find a strong sawblade or two. Build a fire in the center of the square. I’ll be along in a little while.”

“What about him?” Devane jerked a thumb toward Matthew.

“What about you, Matthew? Why did you come here, knowing that Miriam was planning to kill me? Were you intending to stop her?”

“That’s right.”

“And why should that be? I would’ve thought Albion might have fought you for the pleasure of killing me. Where is that gentleman? Hiding under his bed?”

“He was killed in the hospital by Cardinal Black’s men,” Matthew answered. “What you don’t know is that your White Velvet caused the death of his wife in a freak accident, and for that and your other ventures he saw you as a blight on society.”

“I’ve been called that,” said Devane, with a measure of twisted pride. “It’s an exclusive club. The membership dues are more than most men want to pay.”

“Indeed.” Fell flashed a quick and insincere smile. “My heart bleeds for Judge Archer. I’ll say a kind word over him when we throw his body to the sharks. Now … your reason for wishing to save my life? Listen to this, Julian, it should be interesting.”

Matthew said, “You told me Hudson would recover on his own within a few days, if you ceased giving him the drug. He’s a strong man both physically and mentally, he’ll come out it. But Berry …” He had to stop for a moment, as the memory of her all powdered and painted and made to think of herself as Nash’s daughter welled up in him. “But … as you say, Berry’s on a path to mental infancy unless she gets the antidote. With Ribbenhoff dead and the book of potions stolen, who but you has the ability to make that antidote and give it to her in the proper amount?”

“Oh,” said the professor, with a slight nod. “I see.”

“I expect you to give it to her and bring her back, presuming she’s not been killed in this onslaught. I still offer the proposition … you put Berry and Hudson safely on a ship bound for New York and I’ll find Brazio Valeriani. That’s a promise.”

Fell seemed to be considering it. Then, very suddenly, he laughed.

Matthew didn’t care for the sound. “What’s humorous?”

“You,” Fell answered. “What makes you think I know the formula for the antidote?”

Matthew had the feeling that the floor had given way beneath his feet.

“That was Ribbenhoff’s formula, a variation on something Gentry had created. I’m sure he added it to the book, as he liked to keep everything in order … but with him dead and the book gone … the only one who can possibly bring your Berry back to you is this Cardinal Black, and I’m fairly sure he doesn’t have access to the proper botanicals.”

Matthew had lost his power of speech.

“I admire him, in a way,” Fell went on. “A courageous bastard, breaking in here as he did. But that doesn’t mean I won’t savor cutting him into small pieces. I want to know how he got hold of Miriam’s mind and how he took possession of a mortar vessel. That smells to me like someone in the Admiralty is involved.”

“To hell with that!” Matthew exploded. “You’ve got to have a supply of that antidote somewhere! I know you do!”

“No, we do not. We have a supply of what is used to keep the general public pacified, and what we spice the Velvet with, but not the more esoteric formulas. As I told you, I never intended to give the girl an antidote.”

Matthew got up from his chair. Instantly Devane stepped forward and picked up the sword Matthew had dropped. Matthew was shaking with anger and the realization that without the antidote, the woman he’d decided to share the rest of his life with was doomed.

“Damn you,” Matthew seethed. “Damn you to hell and back a hundred times.”

“Quite so,” said the professor. He cast an uneasy gaze upon the dead woman again, as if still expecting her to rise and strike. “Julian, go about your business,” he said. “Our valiant Matthew has been reduced to a blubbering shell.”

“You don’t wish me to take him out?”

“No, let him go where he chooses. Just bind the prisoners, get that search done and prepare the sawblades and the fire. But I shall keep the sword and dagger, thank you.”

Devane handed it over. He worked the dagger from the pink-gloved hand, gave it to Fell, and then he cautiously stepped over the body and passed Matthew on his way out.

“Wait,” Matthew said. The power of his voice stopped Devane short.

“You have something further to add?” Fell asked. He prodded Mother Deare’s body with the toe of his boot, just in case.

What Matthew had come up with in the last few seconds had been born of desperation. “Let me go. I’ll get the book back.”

“Oh, of course you will! The problem-solver on the hunt! Of course!”

“Hear me,” said Matthew, and again the force of his voice was a strong commandment. “You and I have equal desires to get it back, but either you’re in shock or you’re pretending that all those formulas at a madman’s whim would not wreck what remains of your so-called empire. He’ll likely already have a chemist at the ready. He might not have all the necessary botanicals but I’d say he could get them in time … if he’s allowed to. Now tell me truthfully: how long does Berry have? I mean to say … what’s the point of no return for her?”

Fell’s face had become grim. He said, “Ribbenhoff told me that beyond thirty to forty days the antidote would be useless.”

“How long has it been so far?”

“Six days. A dose was started on her the night they were brought in.”

“I am begging you,” said Matthew, “to let me try.”

“We no longer have a chemist here.”

“I’ll find the book and a chemist. If not, I’ll die trying.”

“A sensible statement. One that may well be etched upon your gravestone.”

“You don’t have enough men to guard this place and send a group out searching,” Matthew said. “You have me. I heard Black tell Mother Deare to meet him at ‘the tower’. Do you have any idea where that might be?”

“None. We are some twenty miles down the coast from Swansea. The nearest village would be Adderlane, six or seven miles to the northwest, also on the coast.”

“All right. That’s a place to start.” Matthew still read indecision on the professor’s face. “I have to go as soon as possible. I expect I can use one of the horses, if they haven’t burned down the stable.” He had another inducement to offer, as odious as it seemed. “I don’t have time to wait for Hudson to recover. Send someone with me. One man is all I need.”

“You think highly of yourself.”

“Yes, I do. And so does he.” Matthew lifted his chin toward the third man in the room.

Devane frowned. “Me? Are you mad?”

“Here’s a chance to make amends for past errors,” Matthew told him, and the message between them was clear.

“Meaning what?” Fell asked.

“I believe he means,” said Devane, recovering silkily, “that he blames me for the loss of two teeth and a dirty guttersnipe who he considered his ‘brother’ by that mark on his hand. Is that what you mean, Corbett?”

“Exactly so.”

Fell backed away from Mother Deare’s body and stepped around it. He approached Matthew and Devane and looked from one to the other, his eyes holding a spark of renewed interest. He said to Matthew, “You would go with Julian out to find the book?”

“Yes.”

“Julian? What say you?”

Devane answered, “As always, I am ready to serve.”

“Hm.” Fell stepped closer to Matthew and stood only a few inches away. “You’re correct in that time is of the essence. I don’t know the meaning of ‘the tower’ but perhaps one of our new guests does. We may get some valuable information in the next few hours, so let’s don’t put you on the road until we hear what’s to be said. In the meantime, Julian, go on and do what I’ve asked.”

Devane nodded. He cast a brief glance at Matthew that had a flash of sneer in it, and then he departed.

“I want to get out of this room.” The professor was staring down at the remnant of the crisped brown wig on the floor. “Come downstairs with me. I have a bottle of whiskey I’ll share.”

“I need to find Berry,” Matthew said. “I want to make sure she’s still alive before I go out hunting the book.”

“I imagine Nash got them to his house. It’s up where Conger Street begins, on the left. He has one with a cellar, and doors that can be locked.”

“Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t miss the festivities in the square,” Fell said, “but I’d advise you to try to get some sleep. I can give you something for that, if you’d like.”

“I’d rather not get in the habit.”

“Of what? Sleeping?” Fell gave him a chilly smile. “You should rest while you can.”

“I’ll be all right.”

“Likely so. I’ll tell you this, Matthew: if you bring the book back to me, I will agree to your proposition and I will agree to your terms. By all means go find the girl and make certain she’s well.” He made not the slightest sign of recognizing the irony in this statement. “If you bring the book to me—and a chemist who can understand the formulas—the first order of business will be creating and administering the antidote. When the girl has recovered, I’ll send her and Greathouse safely back to New York. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“And the second part,” Fell went on, “is that I would then hold you to going to Italy with a team of my men to find Brazio Valeriani. Is that also agreed?”

“It is.”

“Then,” said the professor, “I believe we are in partnership.”

“Don’t ask me to shake your hand on it,” Matthew said, and with a last look at the dead Mother Deare lying on Fell’s floor he turned around, got past the other corpse outside the doorway, and left the house to go find Nash’s counterfeit daughter.