Page 103 of An Artful Dodge
I hesitated. “She’s still here, but I think she plans to leave, too.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders fell. “But won’t Maggie be caught? You gave the Yard what they need, didn’t you?”
“Even if she’s in prison, she’ll have someone on the outside, whether it’s Billy or someone else. We just don’t know.” I paused. “And if she’s in prison, just think about the kind of revenge she’d want to take on me.”
That was enough to put a sudden, stark terror into her eyes. But a moment later, she stiffened and tried to look as if she wasn’t afraid. It wrung my heart. I didn’t want her to have to act braver than she was anymore.
She swallowed. “When do we have to go?”
“This afternoon,” I said gently. “We’ll be all right. I have ready cash. My bags are at Amelia’s.”
“But you always said we didn’t have enough saved,” she protested.
“I took a fifth diamond,” I said.
“Oh,” she gasped. She wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers clutching at her sleeves. “But, Kit,” she said, her voice catching. “We’re leaving everyone we know. Amelia and Mary ... and James.”
“I know.”
The door slammed and Mr. Fuller emerged, striding toward us with a satisfied air.
“All right?” I asked.
He nodded, but his attention was caught by Sarah, who—bless her—had not yet mastered the art of concealing her feelings. “What’s the matter? You look upset, and you did beautifully.”
“I’m glad it’s over, that’s all,” she managed.
He frowned dubiously. I took Sarah’s arm, and the three of us started across the cobbles toward the giant archway.
A constable rushed past us, legs churning, arms pumping, huffing with urgency.
Mr. Fuller spun to watch him. “He’s from Lambeth. I wonder what the devil’s happened now.”
Chapter 28
It could have been anything, of course. A railway disaster at the station. An accident with a costermonger, or a carriage. A murder that had nothing to do with us.
But an undertow of worry sucked away my relief over Sarah being safe and her story told.
“We’ll wait here,” I said to Mr. Fuller. He nodded and started toward the door, the ends of his coat flapping like bat wings.
Sarah stared at me. “What’s happened?”
“I don’t know. Let’s wait,” I said quietly. Mr. Fuller reentered the division, shutting the door behind him.
Sarah took my elbow firmly, turning me toward her. Her eyes locked on mine. “Kit, answer me. What’s happened? What haven’t you told me?”
I couldn’t reply, for all I could think of was the look on Mary’s face as she spoke of Maggie having taken her mother from her—and the look on her face not three hours ago, as she came out of the bakery.
Oh, Mary, I thought, fear scalding my insides.What have you done?
I never would have believed it of my friend, but into my mind came Mr. Fuller’s words about monsters. One begets another.Dear God, has Maggie turned Mary into one, too?
My heart ached, twisted, tightened inside my chest as we waited. Somewhere beyond the omnibuses rattling over the cobbles, the hiss of the wind cutting the corner, the muted chatter of steamers and the blaring horns of tugboats, there was the sound of a moan, perhaps, a last breath of air coming through teeth.
Sarah’s hand on my arm tightened. “Kit, he’s back.”
Mr. Fuller strode toward us and stopped in front of me. “She’s dead,” he said grimly. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
