With This Ring (21 page)

There was no murmur of response. Jack was alone. "Elf. Hold."

Tongue lolling, Elf paced eagerly to the alley entrance and glided out into Jack's path. From the depths of the dark passage, Leo watched the lantern light splash across the hound's massive head and muscled shoulders. Fangs gleamed in the yellow glare. The spikes on Elf's leather collar glinted.

"What's this?" The lantern light flickered madly as Jack came to a shambling halt, lost his balance, and lurched against the side of a wall. "Get away from me." His voice rose on a thin scream. "Go on, ye bloody damned hellhound. Get away from me."

Elf did not move. His eyes reflected the glare of the lantern. A deep growl emanated from his throat.

"Christ have mercy." Jack started to sidle back along the wall. "Are ye a demon from the pit, then?"

Elf rumbled softly and took a single pace forward. "No,' Jack shrieked.

Leo went to stand at the entrance of the alley. "I'd advise you notto run, Jack. It's been awhile since he's done anyhunting. He misses the sport. He would like nothing better than to bring you down as though you were a fleeing rabbit."

'Tou. "Jack raised the lantern to stare at Leo. "How did

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you get here? You weren't there earlier. I looked in that alley meself."

"Did you?" Leo smiled faintly. "Perhaps you did not look closely enough."

"Ye were not there." Jack's voice rose on a shrill note of panic. "You could not'ave been in there."

I'm here now and that is all that need concern you." 'Tall off yer damned hound."

"Not yet. I require answers to some questions that I am about to ask you, Ginwilly Jack. If you respond promptly and honestly, I may, indeed, call off the hound."

Jack made to take another step back, but he froze when Elf growled a low warning. "Bloody hell, he'll tear me throat out."

"He could, but he won't." Leo paused. "At least, not until I give the word."

"Look 'ere," Jack pleaded. "What'appened earlier, that was just a business matter, m1ord. A man in yer position understands about business. Nothin' personal. I was paid to do a job of work, that's all."

"Who paid you?"

"I don't know his name. I just got a message sayin' to pick ye up when I saw me chance. I was to take ye to a street not far from 'ere."

"What was to happen next?"

"I was told that a man would come for ye. He was supposed to pay me afore he took ye away."

"And the lady who was with me? What of her?"

Jack grunted. "She weren't important. He didn't want her. I was goin'to let her out somewhere along the way. But I figured as long as ye was occupied with gettin' yer cock between her thighs, ye wouldn't be inclined to give me any trouble."

I "This man who was to pay you, do you know what he looks like?"

"No. I never saw 'im, I tell ye. And that's the honest

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truth, yer lordship." Jack switched his nervous gaze back to Elf. "I was promised good money too. But I never got paid on account of ye went runnin' off the way ye did. And someone stole me new coach and team. Just like the gentry to ruin a good night's work."

"Have you done any other work for the person who hired you tonight?"

"No, I swear it," Jack said quickly. Too quickly. "Are you certain of that?"

Elf's lips peeled back to reveal more of his impressive fangs.

Jack blinked several times and appeared to reassess his situation. "Well, there was one other small chore. I got a message askin' me to keep an eye on ye. Followed yerself and yer lady friend to the park. Saw you meet with the brothel keeper."

"How did you make your report?"

"A boy came around. Said he'd been sent to ask me what I'd seen. I told him and he ran off. Expect he told the bloke what hired me."

"And how were you paid on that occasion?"

"I found some money left in me coach that afternoon." Jack shrugged. "Figured that was me fee for the job."

"Is there anything else, Jack?"

"I got no more to tell ye, m'lord." Jack looked at Leo with pleading eyes. "Call off yer beast. I give ye me oath I want no more to do with this bloody affair. I don't care 'ow much money's involved."

He was telling the truth, Leo thought. For Ginwilly Jack the whole thing had been a business matter, nothing more. "You may go now, Jack," he said. "The hound will leave

you with your throat intact tonight. But if we ever encounter you again, We may reconsider that decision."

"I can go?"

"If you promise that you will never mention my lady's name or what you saw that day in the park."

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"Ye have me undying word o' honor. I've forgotten everything. Everything- 77

"Begone." Jack's gaze jerked back and forth between Elf and Leo. His fear and disbelief were plain. "This ain't no game yer playin' with me, is it? Ye promise the hellhound won't tear me apart if I turn me back on him?"

"You have my word on it." Leo smiled humorlessly. "Remember, Jack, the one thing that you may depend upon is my word. If you fail to keep yours, I swear that I will not rest until I find you."

Jack peered at him. His mouth worked once, twice. Then he turned with a speed that made him more clumsy than the gin had done. He fled down the street, lantern swaying.

Leo waited until the light had disappeared into the fog. Then he whistled softly.

Elf went to him. Leo reached down to idly rub a place behind the hound's ears. "It would seem that I have at last succeeded in annoying someone rather severely, Elf. But then, the Mad Monks have never been noted for their social skills."

Another setback.

The new owner of the museum clenched a gloved hand and gazed into the flame of the candle. In its own way, this mistake was more disturbing than the one that had resulted in Glassonby's premature death. It was unfortunate that one was forced to rely on others to carry out one's plans.

And now there were rumors in low places to the effect that the Mad Monk and the woman had slipped away as if by sorcery.

Sorcery. Impossible. But there were always those who were foolish enough to believe such tales. It was bloody rotten luck that Monkcrest had chosen to become involved in this affair.,

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The water clock dripped softly in the shadows. Time, was running out.

For a moment the candle flame seemed to burn too brightly, a lantern from hell.

The new owner took several deep breaths to calm the anxiety that threatened to transmute itself into panic. Reason returned.

Perhaps Monkcrest's appearance in this business was not such an ill omen after all. The fact that he was here in Town was a strong indication that he was on the trail of the Rings. If anyone could find them, it would be the Mad Monk. It was time to try a different approach.

After a few more steadying breaths the flame slowly returned to normal.

It would all come right in the end. Too much planning and effort had gone into this scheme. It could not fail.

Beatrice studied the wooden sign that swung over the entrance to Trull's Museum. The faded lettering informed her that the establishment was open to the public from noon until five.

An aged porter opened the door for her. He did not look pleased at the prospect of a paying customer.

"We'll be closing shortly," he announced.

"Your sign says that you are open until five o'clock. It is only four."

"I keep the place open as long as it suits me and not a minute longer."

Beatrice raised her brows. "Does Mr. Trull know that you do not keep reliable hours?"

"Mr. Trull got himself run down and killed by a carriage a few months ago. We're uAder new management."

"I see. Is the new owner aware of your policy regarding the hours?"

The porter grew visibly more cheerful. "The new owner never comes around, least not while I'm on duty. Sends all

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instructions through the bankers. Got better things to do than pay attention to this old museum, I'll wager.' "Indeed." Beatrice removed a few coins from her reti-

cule. "I would like to purchase a ticket, if you please."

"Just remember that I'll be ringing the closing bell soon."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Beatrice plucked the ticket from his hand before he could think of another excuse to put her off, and swept into the first dimly lit chamber. The musty smell made her wrinkle her nose. She looked around at the rows of glass-topped display tables that crammed the gloom-filled room.

It would be interesting to take a closer look at the objects in the cabinets, she mused, but she did not have time today. When she saw that there was no one else about, she walked quickly into the adjoining chamber.

That room, even more densely shadowed than the first, was equally emptyof museum patrons. There was certainly no sign of a lady in elegant black.

Beatrice wondered if something had gone amiss.

The note from Madame Virtue had arrived at the kitchen door of the town house less than forty-five minutes earlier. Beatrice had read it with a sense of uneasy excitement.

Mrs. Poole:

It is urgent that we meet. I wish to speak to you again on the same subjectwe discussed inthe park. For the sake of your reputation, I suggest that we rendezvous in a public place where our presence in the same vicinity would be unlikely to cause comment. Mr. Trull's museum at four?

Yours, V

Winifred and Arabella had been out paying social calls when the note came. Beatrice had not had so much as a

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word from Leo all day. There was, in short, no one to consult. She had been forced to make a command decision. There really had been only one possible course of action.

She had informed Mrs. Cheslyn that she had an appointment she had nearly forgotten. Discreetly veiled, she had set out to walk to Trull's.

Now, as she stood alone in the cavernous chamber, she ,experienced her first real qualms. She wondered how long she ought to wait. There was no way to know if Madame Virtue had changed her mind or if she had simply been delayed.

She would give her another fifteen minutes, Beatrice decided. In the meantime, she thought she would take advantage of the opportunity to examine some of the displays. She had promised herself a tour of Trull's.

She walked slowly among the cabinets, pausing here and there to examine the odd artifacts inside. An array of knives fitted with strangely carved hilts caught her eye. She went closer to get a better look.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a massive display cabinet standing at an odd angle at the far end of the chamber. There was something wrong with the position of the case. It was as if it had been partially moved away from the wall. Then she saw the dark opening behind it.

The sense of foreboding that flooded her at that moment was strong. It was so insistent that she had to fight the urge to turn and flee back toward the front door of the museum.

Get hold ofyourself, Beatrice. It is only an opening in the wall. Perhaps it leads to another display chamber.

"Is anyone there?"

A soft moan floated out of the darkness behind the cabinet.

"Dear God." Beatrice rushed forward. "Madame Virtue? Is that you?"

There was no response. Beatrice reached the cabinet

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and came to a halt. She found herself standing at the top of a staircase. The chamber below was so dark that it was impossible to see the last of the steps.

Another groan emanated from the bottom of the stairs. Beatrice glanced around. There was a sconce on the wall. She seized the candle that burned there and held it aloft to peer down into the chamber.

She could just make out the familiar figure lying at the foot of the stone steps.

"Mr. Saltmarsh." Beatrice raised her voice so that it would carry into the next room. "Porter, come quickly. There is someone here who has been hurt."

Without waiting for a response, she started down the staircase.

She was halfway to the bottom when, with a grinding scrape of wood on stone, the heavy cabinet swung ponderously back into place, sealing the opening in the wan.

"No, wait," Beatrice shouted. "Do not close it."

As the last of the faint light from the room above vanished, she whirled and raced back up the steps.

"There is someone down here," she shouted. There was no response.

She set down the candle and shoved with all her strength against the back of the cabinet. It did not budge. She pounded on the thick wood with both fists.

No one came to see what all the commotion was about. Beatrice stopped wasting her energy on the unyielding cabinet.

She and Graham Saltmarsh were trapped together in the underground chamber.

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"Be warned," the master said. "The chained specters that

lurk within these walls have not fed in many centuries."

FRom CHAPTER TwELvE oF The Ruin BY MRs. AmELiA YORK

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C,!_Aamnation, Monkcrest, what are you doing back here in my shop? I've already told you that I know nothing about this business of the Rings." Sibson's whiskers twitched in disgust. "Furthermore, I cannot believe that a man of your reputation is wastin' his time on such foolishness. The Rings are naught but a silly legend."

"Sometimes legends live on because there is a grain of truth in them." Leo examined an ancient medallion in one of Sibson's dusty display cases. "I refuse to believe that you have heard no rumors at all. Such gossip is mother's milk to you, Sibson."

A flicker of intense curiosity gleamed in Sibson's eyes. "Are you telling me that you actually believe the Forbidden Rings are here in London?"

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"I'm not sure if I believe the Rings even exist." Leo raised his gaze from the medallion. "But I think that someone who is possibly quite dangerous does believe that they are real. And I think that person also believes that they are here in Town. That puts you in danger, Sibson."