James looked at him. “Observe?”
“Yes. Understand, however, that I will be part of no deception, and that if you come to me, it will not be because I have asked you to. I am only counseling you to do what I myself would do, in your position. You have a unique opportunity to see what you can.”
“I shall,” said James.
“But not on my behalf. However, if there is anything in the house or in the actions of the people residing there that you wish to report, come to me or go to Inspector Exeter, as you see fit.”
“Oh, Exeter, what does he know?”
Lenox tried to smile, but the young man was patently unhappy—and lurking in the back of his own mind was Bartholomew Deck, for whom he had some sympathy as well.
“Good evening,” said Lenox, and turned away, not toward the Athen?um, now that he was no longer pursued, but up the street and in the direction of home.
He had walked two blocks, and left James behind, when the third of the three events occurred.
To cut more quickly toward his own house, Lenox had chosen to walk along one of those small, dark, thin streets, closer to alleys than anything, that proliferate everywhere in London, even in the best parts of the city, and that always seem to hold some menace in them until they are safely traversed, after which they seem to be less than nothing.
He was alone in this little alley when suddenly he saw two men coming at him from behind but at an angle, and walking quickly. It would have been better, he later saw, to run away immediately, but in the event he thought only that he had been unnerved by the quick encounters with Claude and James and was being foolish.
The two men were of a similar height, both an inch or two shorter than Lenox and younger as well. From their dress and their demeanor, it was impossible to tell whether they were middle-class or lower-class men wearing their finest, but they did not stick out too badly for the neighborhood—except in a single respect. The shorter of the two men had a very clearly outlined tattoo of a hammer curved around his left eye.
It happened in a quick flash. At one moment they were striding toward him and, the next, one of them—it later seemed to Lenox to be the one with the tattoo, though he would never be sure—had clipped him hard into the wall.
The detective did not lose his wits all at once, and when the second man came toward him he dealt him a hard blow in the concavity of his chest, doubling him over. As Bartholomew Deck had learned, Lenox knew just enough to protect himself. But no sooner had the second assailant fallen than the first was again upon him, shoving him to the ground and kicking him hard in the stomach with the toe of his boot.
It was not the first time that such a thing had happened to Lenox, and yet he felt shock—pure shock. He had been brought up a gentleman, and though he had chosen to wade, occasionally, into an unfamiliar world, a world of hard men, his own essentially genial outlook on life had never left him. The toe in his stomach, therefore, was shocking, and by the time the other man had recovered, Lenox was overwhelmed.
He protected himself as well as he could with his arms, but they rained blows across his shoulders. Only once did one of them hit the side of his face and then quickly corrected himself, as the other grunted “Not the face” and pushed him aside.
Then one of them took out a knife, and Lenox felt a violent fear in his chest. Though the alley was dim, he could see the silver gleam of the knife’s edge. Even amid his fright, he tried unsuccessfully to spot something distinctive about the knife.
“Wot now?” said the one with the hammer over his eye.
“That’s good enough.”
“Let me give him a poke—quick one, in the belly.”
The leader seemed to consider this, then, to Lenox’s almost uncontrollable relief, said, “No. You’ll make a mistake and knife an organ.”
“How about the leg?”
There was a noise at the end of the alley, and they looked up.
“Let’s get out of here,” said the tattooed man, and he spat near Lenox’s foot.
The other man told Lenox, “Leave it to the Yard,” and then both men ran away, leaving him against the wall: prone, terrified, and breathing heavily, still within less than a minute’s walk from his own home.
Chapter 22
Beasts!” said Lady Jane, yet again.
“Yes,” said Lenox.
“The absolute beasts!”
“I daresay,” said Lenox, wincing as he tried to sit up.
He was on the sofa in his library. Graham stood back, but Lady Jane was perched on the edge of the sofa next to him. Word had somehow worked its way to the next house when Lenox came staggering home, and Lady Jane had rushed into the library and said, “Graham, move out of the way!”
There were very few people from whom Graham would have accepted such a command at that moment, but she was among their ranks. She had been able to do very little in the way of providing Lenox with physical comfort —he had, he thought, a broken rib, but other than that only bruises, albeit painful ones—but she hadn’t left anyone in the room in doubt of her opinion of the two men who had done it. She thought that they were beasts.
“Where did they come from?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Did they try to rob you?”
“No.”
“Then why?” She patted his hand sympathetically.
“I think it must be in connection with the case.”
“About Prudence Smith?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Charles, I
“I fear I shall have to.”
“Charles!” She leaned toward him, her hands in her lap and a look of concern on her face. Lenox thought she looked beautiful.
“I’m sorry, my dear, but I have to finish, now more than ever.”
“Why, because two cowardly men hurt you? Please, stop your investigation.”
“It may have been Exeter himself who put them up to it.”
“It couldn’t have been, Charles. He’s a policeman.”
“Yes, but I daresay he caught wind of me trolling around the edges of the case and wanted to warn me off. I made him look a fool with that forgery last week. I tried to beg out of going to the Yard to put it all down officially, but he wouldn’t let me.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I’m nearly sure of it.”
“Then report him!”
“That’s not how it’s done. But don’t worry, my lady, I shan’t get into any more trouble if I can help it. I’ll equip myself with a rifle or something and wave it around, and nobody will come near me.” He made an effort to laugh and winced as he did.
“Oh, don’t joke, Charles, it’s not in the least bit funny to us, you know.”
She looked at Graham, nodding, and he nodded too.
At that moment there was a knock on the outer door, and Graham excused himself to answer it. After a few seconds he announced Dr. and Lady McConnell.
“Oh, Charles, you poor dear man!” said Toto, bursting through the door and kissing him on the forehead. “Are
