“The Ankh has been studying the legend in ancient scripts and scrolls for years, and located each of the instruments but for one. Two were in private collections, and one was in the museum. We were to prove our loyalty by retrieving the item, and in turn, we would be granted great privileges and power when Sekhmet was resurrected.”
How could anyone be so gullible? Resurrecting an Egyptian goddess by locating her supposed personal effects here in London? I heard the front door closing. “Did you retrieve the cuff?”
“I stole it while the owners were on the Continent.”
“From whom?”
Lilly shook her head. “I won’t tell you that. I don’t wish to be charged with any crime, and that’s the only thing I’ve done wrong. Would that I’d never been so foolish as to become involved with all of this! Oh, Jemmy!” She was near tears by now, and I tried to head them off by offering her another drink of tea.
She sipped, seeming to take forever, and when she lowered the cup from her mouth, she continued. “I found the cuff and brought it to the Ankh the next day. It had to prepare the cuff before I could be inducted into the inner sanctum, and the Society was to meet again, on April twenty-fifth, for the ceremony. We were to meet where we always did, every week, and—”
“Did you go?” I realized my fingers were digging into the arms of my chair. “What happened?”
“I got to the place, and Jemmy met me at the door. He told me to run, to escape—that the Ankh was going to k-kill me. We tried to run away, but th-they were there . . .” She was sobbing by this time, clearly reliving the horror. “I d-don’t know wh-what happened to Jemmy, but I ran and ran . . . and the n-next thing I knew, I was lost . . . and then the m-men found me. And t-took me to B-Bad L-Louie—”
“Where does the society meet?” Footsteps were just outside the door. “And when? Tell me, quickly!”
“At Witcherell’s, at nine—”
She stopped as the parlor door opened.
Lady Fauntley came in and walked over to the two of us. “Miss Holmes, I’d like to thank you for coming. But my daughter needs to rest now. I’m sure you understand.”
I knew I had no choice but to leave. “Yes, right, of course,” I said. I’d learned much, but I suspected there was much more she hadn’t yet told me.
Try as I might to catch her eyes, I was unable to do so. Lilly Corteville had turned away and clearly was unwilling or unable to speak to me any further.
The poor girl. I would have to come back at another time, but first I was going to be visiting Witcherell’s to find out what I could of the Ankh’s plans. For it was clear the society met every week on the same day. April twenty-fifth was a Tuesday.
And so was today.
Miss Holmes
A Most Curious Device
Once more at the British Museum, where I’d spent more waking time than at home since the first night I met Miss Adler, I hastened to her office.
Uncle Sherlock had impressed upon me from a young age that learning every streetwalk, road, alley, railway route, and business in London was imperative for him in his crime-solving capacity, and so I had taken it upon myself to study maps and become familiar with business districts and neighborhoods. I knew the schedule for every train, underground or otherwise, as well as the buses. One never knew when one might need to utilize public transportation.
Since it was still several hours before noon, she wasn’t in residence. Fortunately, I’d acquired a key and was able to gain access on my own. I had preparations to make before I attempted to attend the Society of Sekhmet meeting tonight at Witcherell’s Pawnshop.
Living in an age of great technology and scientific progress, I was skeptical of the legend of Sekhmet that the Ankh promoted, but I also knew I couldn’t fully discount it as being an excuse for some other scheme—such as to terrorize members of the peerage through their daughters or overthrow the government. After all, Miss Stoker was evidence that vampires did exist. And, as had become apparent, so did time travel—although one could argue the latter was a scientific endeavor and not that of some supernatural force.
And, much as I tended to discount the idea, it seemed that whatever the Ankh was doing with Sekhmet and its statue had caused Dylan’s leap through time.
I’d come to the museum to review the array of notes and writings I’d collected during my week of research into Sekhmet’s instruments. If three of the instruments had been located, I wanted to know as much about them as I could, as well as about the fourth.
Lilly had retrieved the cuff herself. And based on Miss Stoker’s information that a figure had been running from the museum the night of Miss Hodgeworth’s death with a long, slender item in hand, one would conclude that the second one was the scepter. That left the sistrum and the diadem.
I sat at Miss Adler’s desk and closed my eyes to review what I remembered from the Society of Sekhmet meeting, redrawing in my mind like a moving picture the Ankh’s gestures, the speech, and even the actions when she commanded that we be apprehended.
Something about the Ankh niggled in my fertile mind, something I felt I should know or recognize. Something I was missing.
A thought lodged in my brain and my eyes popped open. I stared unseeingly into the room.
“Impossible,” I said aloud.
Lady Cosgrove-Pitt had been at the ball when I returned from the excursion to the Society of Sekhmet’s lair. I’d seen her myself, speaking with another person.
Still. There was something about the Ankh that reminded me of her. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Seeing Lady Cosgrove-Pitt today at the Fauntley mansion only served to remind me of it. It was the way she tilted her head, the way she moved her gloved hand.
And then there was the fact that, apparently, Miss Hodgeworth had received an invitation to the Roses Ball. And someone—Lady Cosgrove-Pitt?—had marked a secret message on that very same invitation.
The door to Miss Adler’s office cracked open, shattering my concentration. A blond head poked around the opening.
“Mina,” said Dylan, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“And I’m relieved to see that you’ve emerged from your exile below,” I said tartly, as a rush of warmth billowed through my middle. What was wrong with me that the sight of this young man would set me to fluttering?
“I realized you were right about what you said this morning—I can’t just stay down there forever,” he said as he came into the office and shut the door behind him.
I was acutely aware that the two of us were alone in a private room. “I’m glad to hear it. I intend to do anything I can to help send you back to your time, but until we can determine how to do that, I believe it’s in your best interest to interact with the people and life here. After all, we don’t know how long it could take.” Gad, I was babbling, and I didn’t seem able to stop myself.
He smiled, and my cheeks went warm. “I realize I’ve been a jerk, and I’m sorry. I was a little short with you this morning, and that wasn’t right.”
“Never mind that,” I said, feeling both discomfort and pleasure from the way his gaze settled on me. It was warm and genuine—not at all like the cold gray-green stare of a certain detective.
“I’m glad you’re here, because I just realized I might be able to help you. I feel like an idiot for not remembering before now. Do you know where my clothes are? My original clothes?”
“Of course.” I’d brought them with me when I bailed him out of the jail, and they were in a cupboard in this very chamber. I produced the satchel and watched as he dug through it. I couldn’t resist picking up one of the very odd rubber and leather shoes. It laced up like a corset, and the sole curved up and around the sides and front of the shoe. On the back in small letters, it said NIKE.
Of course, I knew who Nike was—the Greek goddess of victory. But I couldn’t understand why Dylan would
