Read Page 102

“I trust you’ll give Mademoiselle LeFarge no trouble, ladies,” she says. “I shall see you on the morrow.”

“I didn’t know Miss McCleethy had any friends,” Ann mutters once McCleethy has taken her leave of us.Advertisement

Nor did I, but Miss McCleethy has been full of surprises tonight.

The London fog envelops us in its murkiness. Figures emerge at first like ghosts, like something that belongs to the mist, before taking on form—top hats, coats, bonnets. It is an effect as thrilling as anything conjured by the Wolfson brothers’ magic lantern.

Ann, Felicity, and LeFarge are distracted by the sight of a Mr. Pinkney—the Human Calliope—as he mimics the sound of the instrument with his mouth while also banging a drum.

Dr. Van Ripple emerges from the fog, hobbling quickly on his cane. He collides with a gentleman. “I do beg your pardon, sir. It’s this leg and the damp.”

“No harm done,” the gentleman says. As he helps to right Dr. Van Ripple, I see the magician reach into the man’s pocket and relieve him of his gold watch.

Master illusionist, indeed. Master pickpocket would be more like it.

“Pardon me, pardon me,” he says, shooing the ladies and gentlemen in their finery out of his way. I block his path. He locks eyes with me, startled.

“Did you enjoy the show, my dear?”

“Which show would that be, sir?” I say sweetly. “The Wolfson brothers’? Or the one I just witnessed in which you relieved a man of his pocket watch?”

-- Advertisement --

pqdm.comads300x250--

“An honest mistake,” Dr. Van Ripple says, his eyes wide with fear.

“I shan’t tell,” I assure him. “But I expect something in return. When Miss LeFarge mentioned Spence, you paled at the name. Why?”

“Really, I must be going….”

“Shall I call for the constable?”

Dr. Van Ripple glowers. “My assistant attended the Spence Academy.”

“She was a Spence girl?”

“So she said.”

I search his face. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

He puts his hand over his heart. “On my reputation as a gentleman—”

I stop him. “I believe your reputation as a gentleman is very much in question, sir.”

He holds my gaze. “On my reputation as a magician, then. I promise you this is the truth.”

Our carriages have arrived. “Come along, girls!” Mademoiselle LeFarge calls.

“Best not keep them waiting,” he says, pocketing the stolen watch.

Can I trust the word of a thief?

“Dr. Van Ripple,” I start, but he waves me off with his cane. “Please, sir, I only wish to know her name, nothing more, and I shall leave you in peace. I promise.”

Seeing I will not surrender, he sighs. “Very well. It was Mina. Miss Wilhelmina Wyatt.”

Mina, Miss Wilhelmina Wyatt, author of A History of Secret Societies and the lady in my visions, was a Spence girl, and one of her sisters betrayed her.

The moment Mademoiselle LeFarge falls asleep in the carriage, we break into low chatter.

“Wilhelmina Wyatt! To think that we have her book—and its dangerous secrets—in our possession!” Ann blurts out.

“But we’ve read the book,” I say. “What could we have possibly missed? There is nothing dangerous there.”

“Unless it is the danger of putting one to sleep.” Felicity yawns.

“We did discover some truth about the Order,” Ann says, defending herself. “Without the book, Gemma, you’d never have discovered the true identity of Circe,” she reminds us, and she’s right. For that was how we discovered that the Order often hid their identities by use of anagrams, and that Hester Asa Moore, the name of our trusted mentor, was an anagram for Sarah Rees-Toome.

Felicity drums her fingers on the seat. “There is something that has always troubled me about that book. What purpose could Miss McCleethy have had in purchasing it? If she’s a member of the Order, why should she need a book about the Order?”

At Christmastime, we followed Miss McCleethy to the Golden Dawn bookseller’s in the Strand. She purchased the book, so we did the same, but until now, I’ve thought it one of her peculiarities. I’ve not thought there could be a deeper, and perhaps much darker, reason for her wanting it.

“I saw McCleethy’s face briefly in one of my visions,” I remind them. “She could be the sister Dr. Van Ripple mentioned.”

“Yes, though you said you only saw her face,” Felicity adds. “You didn’t see them together.” pqdm.com