were printed the bold words, “Have you seen this woman?” Smaller print gave my name, description, and words to the effect that I was wanted by the police. The other poster bore a crude drawing of Slade, with a similar legend.
Slade cursed under his breath. I said, “This is surely Lord Eastbourne’s doing.” The few days’ grace that Lord Palmerston had obtained for me were over. Now I, and Slade, were the objects of what appeared to be a massive manhunt.
“We’d better make ourselves scarce.” Slade took my arm and we hurried but did not run outside, lest we draw attention. He waved down a carriage, flung our bags on top, and bundled me inside, shouting an address to the driver as he jumped in with me. Fortunately the driver didn’t recognize us. Slade shut the windows, to keep us hidden while we rode through London. “You’ll be safe at my sister’s house.”
“When shall you leave for France?”
“Today. The sooner I get out of England, the better.”
The carriage eventually turned onto the fashionable street in Mayfair where Slade’s widowed sister, Mrs. Katherine Abbott, lived. Slade pulled his hat low over his eyes and looked out the window. He called to the driver, “Don’t stop! Go around the block.”
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“There’s a constable standing in the square. He’s watching Kate’s house. Lord Eastbourne must have ordered surveillance on my associates.”
I trembled with fear. As we rattled down the alley behind the house, Slade peeked out the window again and said, “Good. They didn’t think to station a man here. Come on.”
We jumped from the carriage. Slade hauled down our baggage and paid the driver. The alley was lined with brick walls that enclosed the back gardens of elegant Georgian houses. When we hurried through the gate, I recognized the pretty garden-I’d stayed here before, during my adventures of 1848. Slade sneaked us in the back door. We stole through the kitchen and up the stairs. The house was quiet. We saw no one until we entered the morning room. There, a woman dressed in a pale green silk gown sat at a desk, writing a letter.
“Kate,” Slade said.
She started, exclaimed in surprise, and turned. Her hand clutched her throat.
“John! And Charlotte! Good Lord, what a fright you gave me!” Katherine Abbott bore a strong resemblance to her brother. She had his black hair and striking gray eyes, but her figure was small, slim, and graceful, her features prettier. “If I were the kind of woman who gets the vapors, I’d have fainted dead away!”
“I’m sorry,” Slade said. “We didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Then you shouldn’t have sneaked into my house like thieves.” Kate’s anger turned to relief. She embraced Slade, then me. “Thank God you’re all right! Do you know that the police are after you? Do you know what they think you’ve done?”
“Yes,” I said.
“How do you know, Kate?” Slade asked.
“They were here,” she said, “not an hour ago. Two of the most arrogant, menacing fellows I’ve ever had the bad luck to meet. John, they said you went insane and murdered two nurses in Bedlam. As for you, Charlotte, they said you murdered a Russian actress and three women of the streets in Whitechapel. Of course I didn’t believe it. It’s utter hogwash!”
I was so thankful for her loyalty that tears momentarily blinded me.
“What in the world is going on?” Kate demanded.
Slade said, “We’d better sit down.”
We sat in the parlor. Slade told Kate about his travails in Russia, Wilhelm Stieber, Niall Kavanagh and the invention, his arrest, and his incarceration and torture in Bedlam. “I killed those nurses in self-defense. Had I not, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’m sorry, Kate.”
“Well, I’m not,” she said staunchly. “I won’t have a Prussian mercenary spy murdering my brother.”
I took up the story, telling Kate how I’d spotted Slade in Bedlam and all that had led up to my finding Katerina and being arrested for multiple murders and thrown in Newgate Prison.
“Oh, you poor dear!” she exclaimed, hugging me. “If only I’d known! I’d have rescued you.”
Her sympathy was balm to my spirit, which had suffered from too much cruel treatment of late. “Fortunately, the Queen intervened.” I detailed my search for Niall Kavanagh. Slade and I took turns describing Kavanagh’s secret laboratory in Tonbridge, what we’d found there, and what had happened-except for our personal matters.
Slade finished our tale with an account of what we’d learned in Ireland. “I’m going to France,” he told Kate. “I brought Charlotte to stay with you while I’m gone, until this whole business is cleared up.”
I expected that Kate would readily agree, for she’d helped me before, during Slade’s and my collaboration in 1848. She had liked me and encouraged my relationship with her brother. But instead she looked stricken. “John, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Why not?” Slade asked.
“Do you know that the police are watching this house?”
“Yes. That’s why we had to sneak in.”
Kate shook her head, twisted her hands. “You can’t get out of the country.”
“Of course I can,” Slade said. “The policeman outside didn’t see us arrive, and he won’t catch me when I leave.”
“No, you don’t understand!” Kate explained, “You’re the most wanted criminal in the kingdom. The army has troops stationed at the ports, watching for you. They have orders to capture you alive or dead.”
“What?” Slade said as I gasped in dismay. “How do you know?”
“Your former superior told me,” Kate said.
“Lord Eastbourne?” Slade said. “He was here?”
“With the police,” Kate said. “He’s questioning everybody connected with you. He knows you’ll try to leave England. He told me that if I saw you, I should persuade you to turn yourself in-if I wanted you to live.”
Slade and I exchanged a look of horror. Lord Eastbourne had anticipated our moves all too well.
“He’s also looking for Charlotte,” Kate told us. “He suspects you’re together.”
“Don’t worry,” Slade said. “I’ve sneaked out of England unnoticed before; I can do it again. And Charlotte should be safe here as long as she stays out of sight.”
“No. She won’t. Lord Eastbourne and his men searched the house. Even though you weren’t here, he thinks you’ll show up eventually. He said he’ll come and search it again.” Kate turned to me, regretful. “I want more than anything in the world to help you, but you mustn’t be here when he comes back.”
“She’s right,” Slade said.
I was dismayed that our plan had foundered, and Slade’s voice troubled me because it sounded so forlorn. Exhaustion and pain had caught up with him; he hunched over in his seat, arms resting on his knees, hands dangling. I was frightened because I’d counted on him to know what to do next, and he didn’t. But he quickly rallied and got to his feet.
“There must be some trustworthy friend I can lodge you with,” he said, pacing the floor. “Just let me think.”
“No,” I said, for I saw the only solution. “I must go to France with you.”
Kate exclaimed in astonishment. Slade stopped pacing, his expression grim rather than surprised: he had been expecting my suggestion.
“A woman has no place in such business,” Kate told me. “Think of the danger!”
“My work will be harder if I have to worry about you,” Slade said bluntly.
“I’ll be safer away from England. You won’t have to worry about Lord Eastbourne finding me.” I added, “I’ve been useful so far. I can be again.”
“Very well.” Slade turned to Kate, who gamely accepted our decision. “Our first challenge is to get away from this house without being caught. Sister, dear, we need your help.”
Kate insisted that Slade and I must eat before we departed. After breakfast, I hurriedly washed myself; then she helped me dress in a teal silk gown and frilled bonnet she’d lent me. When I rode off in her carriage with her driver, the police constable tipped his hat to me; he’d mistaken me for Kate. He didn’t see Slade crouched on the carriage floor with our bags. We traveled across the Thames to Southwark.
Southwark is populated by dock laborers, boatmen, and other folk who make their living on the water. Their
