The Curious Case of Miss Amelia Vernet by Dana Cameron

Author:Dana Cameron [Cameron, Dana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-10-14T04:00:00+00:00

This bolt-hole was nothing but the most basic of hiding places. A small room—equipped with water for washing, disguises, and food—hidden by means of a false wall in the back of a shop. Ordinarily, the brick-covered door was opened by a triggering mechanism . . .

. . . but the door was already ajar.

We entered cautiously and found Jack Cooper lying on a pile of wigs and torn clothing, quite dead.

Sherlock ascertained that the secret cupboard with the weapons had not been found. “They came here, they found nothing of note, and they killed Jack.”

I felt quite giddy at the sight of the lifeless Jack and barely attended to my Cousin’s words.

Sherlock tried to rally his thoughts. “They didn’t find anything—and yet we were not followed, no one is watching us now . . . the room is situated so that it is impossible to be observed . . .”

I realized it a moment sooner, having been under its influence less than my Cousin. “We must go out into the fresh air—”

“Yes, yes, they’ve brought us here, left the chemical compound about to slow us . . .”

We staggered outside and shortly our heads cleared.

“Billy is not here—Amelia!” My Cousin seemed much more like his usual self. “It is not us that they are looking for. They seek our friends, the Ordinary men and women of our acquaintance! Watson is in danger. I will go to him; you return to Baker Street and warn Martha to guard the household!”

Without waiting for an answer, he sprinted off toward the doctor’s home.

I was frozen with the horror of that notion. Hal had been right: My Family and I were responsible for Tommy’s injuries.

I sprang, moving as quickly as I could for Baker Street, but found my steps lagging when I passed one of the lecture halls of University College. I was slowed by the scent of an evildoer, rank and putrid. Somewhere behind that smell—which no perfume could hide—was a hint of lavender bath soap.

I had Jack’s murderer.

What was so astonishing was that the man—I could not call him a gentleman, no matter his rank—entered the lecture hall.

I was terribly curious, for what could a murderer and kidnapper want with a presentation on the binomial equation?

I was able to watch him, and keep my hackles down, as he sat near the back; I spied from the open doorway. Giving only half an ear to the speaker—a skinny, older, cerebral-looking fellow who not only was incomprehensible in his mathematics but also had an off-putting habit of swaying his head side to side, a symptom, perhaps, of some nervous disorder—I noticed that my quarry had no particular interest in the lecture. Perhaps he’d only come in to get warm, or perhaps he was scouting out some new victim.

As soon as the lecture concluded, he left, and I followed him outside. He was nearly as slick as I was, quick and quiet, but he had no hesitation in shouldering someone out of the way when he thought he would be unobserved or unchallenged.

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