P. Elrod: The Hanged Man

A tall masked form burst from the shadows of the bookcase door. Head to toe in black, topped by a hooded cloak, he was as alarming a sight as any Alex had beheld that evening, including the beast in the mirror room.

Hollifield gave a start and turned, raising the gun toward the intruder, but the man moved incredibly fast. His lordship’s pistol was plucked away in a blink.

The man swept toward Alex, who stumbled backward, bumping into something. His hand shot out, keeping her from falling. As he steadied her, she felt emotions not her own: anger, relief, and an odd, swift spark of amusement, then her barriers came up and halted the flood.

She glimpsed ice blue eyes behind the mask. One of them winked at her.

She began to speak, but he raised one finger for silence. Lord Richard was apparently not ready to return from the dead just yet.

He turned the pistol over to a startled Alex, strode to the bookcase, and gave a whistle. Two flying squad men clattered in, followed by James, Fingate, and Benedict. They were battered, covered in grime and dust, and smelled of black powder. There was no shortage of weapons among them.

Nonplussed and outraged, Hollifield began to bluster as any man might toward strangers invading his home. Lord Richard towered over him and again raised one finger.

Hollifield stuttered to a halt, then demanded, “Who are you?”

James put himself forward. “Doesn’t matter. You made the correct choice in the end. You owe your life to our Alex.”

“W-what?”

“That is to say, our friend here has had a bead on the back of your head at point-blank range for the last five minutes. We’re delighted he didn’t have to shoot you.”

Benedict was paper pale and with help from Fingate sought out the nearest chair, folding into it without a word and closing his eyes.

“Those stairs were a trial for him, Lady Drina,” explained Fingate. “We should have a doctor in.”

“I say there.” James was peeved. “ I am a doctor.”

“Sorry, sir, I forgot.”

“I’m going to have to grow a great hooting moustache and carry a large black bag with ‘doctor’ printed on it in gold before anyone takes me seriously.”

At that point the policeman blew his whistle, catching everyone on the hop. It had the effect of making him the focus of attention.

“The lot of you settle in one spot and inform me wot is goin’ on ’ere,” he ordered. He pointed the whistle at the squad men. “You-put those pistols down this instant or I’ll ’ave you in irons.”

They looked at Lord Richard, who gave one nod, then obeyed, slotting the weapons into their shoulder harness holsters. He gestured and the men went to stand behind Hollifield.

“You! In the fancy togs! I wants that mask orf an’ an explanation-”

Lord Richard produced a heavy folded paper and extended it toward the policeman, who accepted and read it with suspicion. His eyes widened. “Is this…? Truth an’ all?”

The masked apparition pointed authoritatively at Alex. He took the paper, passed it to her, and then turned on his heel, departing the way he’d come, pulling the bookcase door shut with a snick .

“They should have him in Parliament,” said James. “They’d get more work done with less noise. What is that?”

Alex recognized the seals and her godmother’s signature under the brief and neatly written statement. The onus it placed on her inspired equal parts of satisfaction and exasperation.

“It means,” she said wearily, “that until and unless a senior agent arrives-and I think it unlikely-I’m in charge.”

James barked a single laugh. “You should love that, little cousin.”

To be entrusted with the responsibility for the state of affairs in Lord Hollifield’s study was the last thing Alex wanted, but it had its benefits. She immediately ordered tea.

Sebbings looked to his master for a cue. Hollifield nodded and gave a weary wave, then retired to the chair at his desk. His crisis of conscience over, he seemed uninterested in further participation.

While the squad men stood over the prisoners, Alex wrote a brief telegraph message for Mrs. Woodwake. Owing to the need for secrecy, it had to be vague, but she’d know Alex was returning with prisoners. The policeman was dispatched to the station with mysterious instructions to avoid contact with any closed coaches that might put themselves in his way.

Tea arrived, along with biscuits and other edibles from that day’s reception. Fingate helped distribute the refreshment. Benedict roused enough accept a cup, which he had to hold in both hands. After the first bracing gulp he looked around uneasily.

“Are there mirrors here?” he asked in a sharp tone.

“No, sir,” said Fingate. “It’s quite safe.”

“No place is safe. Besides, he’s here.” He glared at Lord Hollifield.

His lordship looked away. “I’m sorry, lad. Truly I am.”

Benedict scowled. “A bit late for that. What you’ve opened and unleashed-”

“You volunteered!”

“And when things went wrong you left me to rot in the dark with those damned nightmares!”

“I did no such-”

“Oi!” Alex’s loud interjection cut short the exchange. Instructive as it might be, she was certain it would lead to things the Hollifield servants did not need to hear. “Fingate, how did you two escape?”

“We didn’t. They locked us up. Not sure for how long, but things got noisy. Whistles blowing, people shouting, screaming, and thumping around…”

“That would be the forces of law and order making a vigorous inquiry about the odd goings-on at number twenty-five,” said James. “The guests lost all sense of proper deportment, in fact, most went into a bit of a blind panic, which was not in the least helpful. Then those masked johnnies tried to leg it out by way of the tunnels.”

Hollifield lifted his head. “What happened?”

“They were sorely disappointed to find the exits blocked. The tall fellow who left? He knew all about those. Most of the johnnies didn’t make it.”

“Dead?” he choked out, going gray.

James’s normally cheerful expression turned somber. “Some fools began shooting. Couldn’t hear their guns, but by God they heard ours. It was over in seconds. A narrow tunnel is a poor place to stage a battle. The men in front fall first, you can’t advance, more bodies pile up, and then you can’t breathe or see for the powder smoke choking the air.” He looked at Alex. “That’s where Hamish is, seeing to the wounded. I should be there, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t in a bad spot.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I take it you got the lady out.”

“We were met halfway by a rescue party led by that tall fellow. We presented our credentials, mentioned your name, and she was passed to safe and caring hands. Then Hamish and I led them to the secret doings. I won’t be shocked if my hair’s turned white from some of what I saw in the private rooms. We did have a jolly time breaking through doors and terrifying people. That’s how we found Fingate and that poor devil.” He cast a look at Benedict, who was now eagerly demolishing a plate of biscuits.

“Our large companion was looking for you. Determined fellow. He loped off into that infernal maze with a couple of men, and I loped after them with Fingate in tow. From some of what was muttered in passing I had the idea we were also tracking the general in charge of the works and had to be cautious. Didn’t know for sure it would lead to you, but I should have guessed you’d turn up. You have a talent for ticking off people at the top.”

“Really, James-”

“You’re right, let me correct that. You’ve a talent for ticking off people everywhere. I hope you won’t stop, as it’s no end entertaining for me. I’d be obliged if you’d explain those unfortunates on the rug. One of ’em seems familiar.”