17

Friday, June 11, cont.

“What! How could you possibly know that, Elizabeth?” James asked.

“I followed you, of course. You mentioned the bistro, so once you left our flat, I changed into my disguise and loitered outside the restaurant until you exited. I knew that a gentleman like you would see her home, so that way I could learn where she lived. I was about to leave after you parted, when I noticed a man pacing the distance from the entrance to Miss Harkness’s apartment building to various corners or places where he could hide. After he measured three different sites, he left. I was afraid to follow him, so I came home. You nearly caught me, too, because before you’d have gone to a pub for a drink, but this time I barely had time to jump into bed before you came and peeked in to see if I was sleeping.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I wanted to, but was unsure how to tell you. I was following Margaret today. Oh . . .” She turned to me. “May I call you Margaret?”

I smiled. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

“I was following Margaret today to see if he came back. I didn’t see him.”

“What did he look like?” James asked.

“Sorry, Father, but it was dark. He looked strong, like someone who works with his hands. But all I could really see was his outline.”

James shook his head. “I want to be angry with you, Elizabeth. But I can’t. I am, however, worried. I got a quick reply from our colleagues in Berlin that I am not going to share with you, but it makes me think Miss Harkness’s recent trip to Berlin and this mysterious man are related. Now it’s your turn to go sit on the sofa while Margaret and I discuss things.”

“You mean while the adults talk?”

“No. I mean while confidential information is shared with the only person it pertains to.”

Elizabeth strode out of the room to the exile of the sofa with her nose upturned while James turned to me.

“Herr Adler sings your praises and wishes you well. A cell of anarchists was arrested after the police followed the telephone wire to a nearby warehouse. Only one man escaped that we know of, but he could be a very dangerous one. His name is Herman Ott. His father-in-law is a gunsmith who is suspected of being an anarchist sympathizer at the very least. Ott is known as a crack shot who often demonstrated his father-in-law’s wares to clients. Elizabeth’s description of a man pacing off distances makes me fear he was choosing a sniper position.”

“He must be very loyal to his cause to want to kill me.”

“Politics isn’t his motive, I’m afraid, at least not the only one.”

“Then what is?”

“His wife killed herself shortly after the police came to her house looking for him, leaving a small child behind. The woman’s mother blames her son-in-law for her daughter’s death. In one stroke, he lost both his wife and access to his son. He probably blames you and Professor Bell. I suspect he fled to England and, after hearing of his loss, decided to seek revenge.”

My heart seized at the news of the woman’s suicide. I recalled the Irish prostitute, Mary Kelly. I’d unwittingly led the Ripper to her door, and the description of her mutilation would haunt me for the rest of my life. It seemed that once more I’d been manipulated by others, leading to the death of an innocent woman.

I shook my head to clear it of the memory, with little success. “I’m the closest, so it makes sense. But how could he locate me so quickly?”

“You’re a well-known author. Who would have your address? Your agent?”

“I have no agent. I deal directly with . . . my publisher.” Then raising my voice I called out, “Elizabeth, please tuck your hair back under your cap. Care to join us for a little jaunt?”

It was approaching closing time when we arrived at the publisher, so I wasted no time, though I took care not to antagonize the elderly man. He was, after all, the one who made sure I got my royalties fairly and promptly.

“Excuse me, Mr. Aldrich, but has anyone approached you in the past week trying to contact me?”

He looked over his pince-nez glasses. “I apologize, Miss Harkness. I meant to send his address on to you sooner, but with the disruption of my office, I’ve had a devil of a time setting things right.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Can you describe the gentleman?”

“Certainly. A German gentleman, shy of forty. Large he was, not the typical academic one sees in our business, eh? He asked for your address and was rather put out when I refused, though I did agree to forward his request on to you.”

“And when did he come by?”

“Two days ago. You’d have his note now, if not for the mess I found in my office yesterday morning.”

Ethington stepped forward and showed his badge. “What happened yesterday, sir?”

Mr. Aldrich pursed his lips when he saw the badge. “Naught for the police to concern themselves, Inspector, lest you arrest cats for their willful nature. I keep one in the office to keep rats from eating the books, and this one . . .” He nodded at a tiger-striped tom licking himself in the far corner. “He took to running about and overturned my inkwell onto some correspondence I had from a promising young author whose address I cannot now recall. I was so upset and occupied trying to locate a previous letter from him, your message slipped my mind.”

“How do you know it was the cat?” I asked.

“Got his paw prints in ink all over the office, that’s how.”

“Anything else you might be able to tell us regarding the German visitor?” Ethington asked. “It’s rather important.”

“He had large hands, Inspector. At one time in his life, he made his living with those hands, before he went into books. Oh, and his eyes. As cool and gray as any cat I’ve ever seen. I wouldn’t want to see him angry.”

“Thank you, sir.” Then, turning to me, James asked, “Anything else before we go?”

I considered telling the man I would soon set sail for Australia, then hesitated. Given my sudden intimacy with James and Elizabeth, I preferred they not learn of my plans this way. “Not now. Thank you, Mr. Aldrich, sorry about your troubles.” I took the note left for me by this mysterious stranger and once outside, James and I peered at it together.

“A name and address only. Both probably false,” he mused. “I’ll pass it on to Herr Adler, to see what he can make of it. I find the story of the marauding cat rather too convenient to be coincidence. I suspect its involvement was staged to hide the evidence of a break-in. Too bad the cat can’t defend itself. Doubtless, this is where Herr Ott got your address. One moment.”

James studied the door lock. “Some small scratches. Inconclusive, but a professional would find this lock no challenge. Yes, I think our man was here recently.”

“What now?” I asked. “He knows where I live, and I have only a vague description of what he looks like. I doubt he’ll introduce himself before he fires.”

“I will inform my superiors, of course. Professor Bell’s report was well received, by the way. When I tell them that an anarchist sniper is about, they’ll increase surveillance of known anarchists in London. Ott can’t have arrived without someone taking him in. He may walk in shadows, but he needs a roof and sustenance.”

I sighed. “A good plan, and I wish you well, but what about me in the meantime? I can’t stay where I am unless you can offer me police protection.”

Elizabeth, who’d been silent all this time, piped up. “We can!”

James looked askance at her outburst. “What are you talking about? Where could I find a contingent of bobbies to watch her place?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Of course, you can’t! She can stay with us. She can share my room!”

“That is very kind of you, Elizabeth, but I must warn you, I’ve been told my snoring is atrocious.”

“I can hear Father from down the hall. Yours couldn’t be worse than that.”

James frowned. “What will people think?”

“And what would you think, Father, if Margaret is killed by this man, and you didn’t take her in? Are you so afraid of what strangers think that you’re willing to risk her life?”

James shook his head. “No, Elizabeth. That just wouldn’t do. But I have an alternative solution. Margaret, there is a flat one floor below ours that has recently become vacant. I’m sure the landlord would be happy to have a tenant ready to move in immediately. It moves you from your current residence and I’m near to hand if you need assistance. Will that do?”

I stood there in a rare moment of doubt. I could probably sail sooner and assume my Pennyworth guise until safely onboard. That would be the logical thing to do. The safe thing. But if I made the move dressed as Pennyworth, the assassin couldn’t track me to a new residence, and I’d have the time to properly prepare for my new life in Australia.

Also, I didn’t want this Ott fellow to scare me off. I was angry at being manipulated in a way that led to a woman’s death. And if I did flee, what would prevent the man from coming after me in Australia? If I didn’t want to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, I needed to stand my ground and assist in this man’s capture. I would leave England on my terms, when I was good and ready. I looked down at Elizabeth and squeezed her hand.

“Very well. In for a penny . . .”