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ONCE EVANGELINE HAD recovered from the surprise of seeing three guests waiting in her parlor to initiate what promised to be a serious conversation, she ordered Daisy to bring coffee for everyone. Her English guests didn’t object to the strong brew, given the need for alertness despite the lateness of the hour.
After the maid left to prepare their refreshments, Mrs. Featherstone noted Evangeline’s frazzled appearance for the first time. “Miss LeClair, are you ill?”
Evangeline collapsed into a wing chair beside the fireplace. “Not ill. I was merely attacked tonight.”
“Attacked?’ Freddie exclaimed. “Engie, are you all right?” He crouched down beside his partner to scrutinize her face.
The two Arkana agents registered mild alarm.
“I’m fine. Just very tired.” She smiled bleakly at her guests. “I may as well begin my tale at the beginning. It all started when I met Mrs. Vangilder for luncheon today.” Evangeline went on to describe her deliberately provocative conversation with her prime suspect.
“Why would you antagonize her like that?” Freddie cried. “What a hare-brained thing to do!”
“Two reasons,” Evangeline replied, not at all ruffled by the insult. “I wanted to test whether Bill Mason’s information about her dark past was accurate. Judging from Mrs. Vangilder’s startled reaction, it was. I also hoped to nudge her into saying something that might implicate her in the museum robbery. Unfortunately, the woman has nerves of steel, so that part of my plan didn’t work. At least not immediately.”
Evangeline’s eyes held a mischievous twinkle. “Not until I was assaulted as I was leaving Hull House.” She then regaled her guests with the story of the courtyard attack and how she successfully warded off her assailant.
Merriweather shook his head in mild amazement. “I must say, you American ladies are nearly as fond of shooting guns as your countrymen.”
“It’s a good thing she is, Mr. Merriweather,” his associate pointed out. “Otherwise, the evening might have ended rather badly for her.”
“As it was, the attack offered me an unforeseen opportunity,” the lady detective said. “My assailant was none other than the bandit who stole the Egyptian statue. And now, I know with absolute certainty who he is.”
“How?” Freddie asked blankly. “He wore a mask, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but he also wore amber scent,” Evangeline countered.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand the significance of that fact.” Merriweather stared at his hostess in perplexity.
“It was Cassius Vangilder,” Freddie explained. “Engie has a bad habit of sniffing men.”
“Sniffing...” Mrs. Featherstone trailed off, appalled.
“Not so!” Evangeline objected. “It’s simply when a man wears so much cologne that you could detect him from several paces away, a lady can’t help but notice. His fragrance first came to my attention when I met Cassius Vangilder at the Palmer mansion, and he leaned in closely to inspect my ruby necklace.”
“That wasn’t all he was inspecting,” Freddie growled.
Ignoring the comment, Evangeline continued. “The scent he wore had a distinctive amber base. I’m very grateful that Cassius is so much of a dandy that he can’t even attend a mugging without splashing on his favorite cologne beforehand.”
“Oh, I see.” Mrs. Featherstone seemed relieved by the explanation.
“I suppose that’s one point in our favor,” Freddie observed. “At least we know for sure that Cassius is the thief.”
“We know more than that,” Evangeline said enigmatically. “His assault proves conclusively that Hettie Vangilder is the Spider.”
“I beg your pardon,” Merriweather interjected timidly. “Doesn’t it seem more likely that the young gentleman is the mastermind we call the Spider? After all, he is the person who attacked you.”
At his words, Mrs. Featherstone smiled slightly, while Evangeline gave an outright laugh of derision.
The two men seemed taken aback by the women’s reaction.
“What’s so funny?” Freddie finally asked.
“My dear Mr. Simpson,” Mrs. Featherstone said, “You gentlemen mistake the apprentice for his teacher. The Spider owes her success as a master criminal to careful planning. She would never indulge in amateur theatrics simply to intimidate someone.”
“Aside from that,” Evangeline posited, “she wouldn’t have wasted her time with a mere warning.” She tilted her head, considering the scenario. “If I were in Hettie’s shoes and someone posed a serious threat to my operation, I would kill them outright and be done with it.”
“As would I,” Mrs. Featherstone concurred. “That would be the most sensible course of action.”
Freddie cast a scandalized glance at both women. “I’m glad you ladies fight on the side of justice.”
Thinking aloud, Evangeline mused, “I don’t believe Hettie ordered Cassius to attack me at all. She must have complained to him about our luncheon conversation, and he impulsively took it into his head to frighten me off. As it is, I gained a greater advantage from the encounter than my assailant did. He played into my hands by admitting that he stole the Egyptian statue.”
At that moment, Daisy entered the parlor bearing a coffee tray. While the maid dispensed cups of the beverage, Evangeline pondered the dilemma that remained regarding the museum theft. “Even though Cassius confessed, he said it would be impossible for me to prove his involvement.”
“That’s quite true,” Mrs. Featherstone said. “We must catch the thief red-handed to implicate him and recover the statue.”
“And catching the thief red-handed is also our best way to help free Perdita from the clutches of her nefarious family,” Evangeline reminded the group. She glanced at the maid, who was still hovering about, and tactfully dismissed her from the room before continuing. “Even though I promised Mrs. Palmer that I wouldn’t involve the police in the museum case, that was before we knew the robber was part of an international crime ring. I’m sure the authorities on both sides of the Atlantic would be interested in questioning the Vangilders. With her brother and mother either in custody or fleeing from the law, Perdita could disavow them and lead her own life.”
“But how do you propose we catch the thief red-handed?” Freddie asked, yawning as he took his first sip of coffee.
“We have a plan,” Merriweather said. “That is the reason for our late visit tonight.”
“We received important news only a few hours ago,” his associate chimed in. “A telegram from our contacts in Europe.”
“The last time we all spoke, you told us a Prussian count was sending a courier to Chicago,” Freddie said.
“Quite so,” Merriweather agreed. “Our informants were finally able to give us the details of the transaction. The courier and his bodyguard are to collect the statue tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night!” Evangeline and Freddie exclaimed in unison.
“It is very short notice,” the lady agent conceded. “Fortunately, we do know the precise location. They are to complete the transfer at one o’clock in the morning at a place called the Rush Street bridge. Do you know where that is?”
Evangeline and Freddie glanced at one another before both chuckled in amusement.
“It’s not hard to find, Mrs. Featherstone,” Freddie said. “In fact, you probably crossed it to get to this side of the city without realizing its name.”
“The Rush Street bridge is the busiest in the city and spans the river nearest the point where it meets Lake Michigan,” Evangeline explained. “It’s about as conspicuous as your London Bridge.”
“Which makes it seem an odd choice to me.” Freddie knit his brows. “For a clandestine meeting, the bridge is too out in the open.”
“I neglected to mention that the villains are to meet on the quay below the bridge,” Mrs. Featherstone added.
“Now, that would make perfect sense.” Evangeline nodded. “What better place than a shadowy area below the sidewalk with no pedestrian traffic at a time when no boats are traveling the river.”
“Which quay?” Freddie asked the Arkana agent.
“I just told you,” Mrs. Featherstone replied blankly. “The one beside the Rush Street bridge.”
“No, I mean, which side of the river?”
“Oh, dear.” The lady agent sighed. “Our communication didn’t specify.”
“Don’t worry,” Evangeline said brightly. “Freddie and I will guard the quay on one side of the river while you two watch the opposite bank.”
“That should provide satisfactory coverage,” Merriweather said.
“I assume you will be carrying weapons,” Evangeline remarked pointedly to the agents.
Merriweather quailed at the question. “Are you referring to firearms?”
“Yes,” Evangeline said evenly. “Freddie and I will be bringing pistols. We don’t intend to shoot anyone, but the display of a gun can sometimes ensure great cooperation.”
“I will rely on my trusty walking stick,” Mrs. Featherstone said resolutely.
“And I on my fists.” Merriweather sounded equally determined.
“I’m sorry to point out that simply relying on your fists didn’t work out well when we first met,” Freddie ruefully reminded the agent.
“I also own a flick-knife,” Merriweather admitted grudgingly.
“A what?” Evangeline asked.
“I think he means a switchblade,” Freddie whispered.
“Then, by all means, bring it with you,” Evangeline advised. “Despite your reservations, Mr. Merriweather, it’s better to be overly prepared than not prepared enough. The people we are likely to encounter won’t hesitate to use force against us.”
“A cogent argument,” Mrs. Featherstone admitted. “I possess a cosh and know how to apply it to good effect.”
“A cosh?” Freddie echoed.
“It’s what British people call a blackjack,” Evangeline murmured to her partner.
“That should do nicely.” The reporter gave the lady agent an encouraging smile.
“Now that we’ve settled the issue of armaments, let’s plan to assemble here tomorrow at midnight,” Evangeline said. “Jack can drive us a short distance away from the rendezvous point. Then, we’ll take up our positions and wait.”
“What is our precise goal in mounting this attack?” Merriweather asked.
“To get the statue back,” Freddie said flatly.
“And to capture the person carrying it,” Evangeline reminded him.
“Who, I assume, will be Cassius Vangilder,” Mrs. Featherstone said.
“I think not, madame,” her associate countered. “The Spider always uses middlemen to conclude transactions so that no one can connect her to a crime.”
“If that’s true, she must have a network of go-betweens that spans the entire United States,” Evangeline speculated.
“And Europe,” Merriweather offered helpfully.
“Then why did Cassius commit the robbery at the museum if his mother has so many connections?” Freddie challenged.
“My theory is that it was a crime of opportunity that only presented itself after the Vangilders arrived in Chicago,” Evangeline speculated. “They had a single night to steal the statue before it was locked away in the museum. Not enough time for Hettie to plan a proper operation, but Cassius was ready to hand.” She shook her head and laughed wryly. “That rash young man may one day prove to be his mother’s undoing. His flair for the dramatic certainly constitutes a fatal flaw. I ask you, who wears an opera cape to commit a robbery or assault a woman?”
“He was entirely overdressed for both occasions, in my opinion.” Mrs. Featherstone sniffed disapprovingly.
“We, on the other hand, will be dressed appropriately for tomorrow evening’s outing,” Evangeline said.
“With matching accessories.” Freddie grinned. “Weapons all around.”
“Audentes fortuna iuva,” Merriweather observed, wincing slightly.