Then she knew what room she wanted—the room set aside for ladies to rest and refresh themselves in private. It was empty, the force that was keeping Mouse inside no doubt keeping everyone else out. Evelina swallowed hard and peered through the doorway.
The room was lit by a pair of branching gas sconces reflected by gold-framed mirrors hung on the opposite wall so the light bounced back and magnified the brightness. There was a painted Japanese screen, a few low couches, and a steam trolley piled with cakes and lemonade for the ladies’ refreshment. Evelina stepped inside, feeling Mouse’s presence like a piece of herself that had wandered astray.
The moment she did, the barrier she had sensed disappeared, and she felt a light tugging on her hem. She looked down to see Mouse pulling at her dress with its tiny forepaws. On the pretext of adjusting her slipper, she bent and scooped it into her reticule.
She whirled around, feeling Mouse squirm as the reticule swung with her movement. Mouse was right. Dr. Magnus gave a small bow, resplendent in his black and white formal attire.
“You are a vision, Miss Cooper.”
And he was an apparition. A ruby stickpin skewered his lapel like a drop of blood. “Dr. Magnus,” she replied with a stiff curtsey, uncomfortably aware that they were in the room alone.
“Pardon my methods of getting your attention. I would speak with you, but we meet in an inauspicious location for any conversation of substance.”
Evelina bristled. “I have no wish to speak with you.”
“But I have much to impart.” He gave her a significant look. “As I said before, you possess a talent that interests me greatly. I have been studying the infusion of spirit into machine for a great many years, struggling to accomplish the task at even a primitive level. Yet you, as in the case of your bird and of the little mouse you even now carry in your bag, are able to achieve this effortlessly. I would teach you all I know if you would return the favor.”
Evelina started as if shocked by Jasper Keating’s machine. The last thing she needed was someone to overhear them. “Dr. Magnus! Have a care what you say. We might be alone, but there is every chance someone might chance by.”
He gave a meaningful nod. “As I said, this is an inauspicious location. It would be far better if we met in private. Perhaps at my rooms on Pemberton Row?”
“I’m not a fool!” she whispered. She always ended up whispering to the man. “Why should I trust you, here or anywhere else?”
“Shall I give you an earnest of my intentions?”
“What do you mean?”
“It is obvious to me that you pursue an answer to what has swept your corner of creation into such sad disarray. I will put you a step closer to your goal.”
Evelina frowned, wary of anything the man might say. “My lord, your meaning is far from clear.”
“That tends to be the case with random puzzle pieces.” He waved an airy hand, all grace and elegance. “Attend. You are not the only avenue to learning, and I am not a man to neglect an opportunity. In addition to you, my living example of a rare talent, there is also an ancient artifact called Athena’s Casket that forms part of the archaeological exhibit Jasper Keating has acquired from Greece. I would very much like to study the casket, but Keating claims that he does not have it.”
Evelina narrowed her eyes. Nick had said Magnus was after an object of power, and he was trying to force Lord Bancroft to help him get it from the Gold King. That object had to be the casket—and if it was from Greece, what about the crates she had seen with strange writing on them? She took a wild gamble.
“And he stored that exhibit in a warehouse?” Evelina’s neck ached from the tension in her body. She kept her face utterly blank, hoping he would give up and leave her alone. Instead, he assumed his most charming smile. If she didn’t know better, she would have found it devastating.
“Yes, the warehouse you so neatly exorcised. Well done, Evelina.”
“How do you know that?”
“I visited the place after you. With all the metal in the vicinity, it stank of your battle with the guardian. You need to have a care, throwing your magic about like that. You leave a wide trail for those who can read it.”
Evelina flushed, but refused to be baited. This was the man who had done his best to lure her to become his student in the dark arts. He had hurt Nick, and he was the one who had tricked her into this room tonight. She should have been fighting her way from the room.
Instead, she seized the opportunity to ask questions. That was the problem with Dr. Magnus—as much as she loathed him, he was the only person she knew who understood magic better than she did. It was an insidious attraction. “What went on in that warehouse? I heard something about Chinese workers connected to the place.” Their deaths had finally made it into the papers. “And Mr. Markham, the shopkeeper, uses Chinese tailors.”
Dr. Magnus shrugged. “Markham’s men may well be honest tailors, merely plying their trade, or they might be lookouts. I don’t know. The only concrete fact I have is that I discovered living quarters beneath the floor of the warehouse.”
Evelina’s eyes widened. She missed that—but then again, she’d been running from the guardian. “There was blood on the floor,” she added. “Bodies were found in the Thames.”
“Then the Chinese who worked for Harriman were killed.”
The scraps and bits of information she had gathered were suddenly forming a pattern. “How unbelievably horrific.”
“I agree.” Magnus frowned. “But I think you have your answer. The warehouse is empty. No traces have been left of what went on there.” He folded his arms, his face dark with displeasure. “There were workbenches beneath the warehouse, and signs that equipment had been in place, but what they were actually doing there remains a blank to me. I do not like that.”
That at least was something Evelina could agree with him about.
His mouth twitched irritably. “I am not convinced the casket is missing.”
That logic puzzled her. “Why don’t you know?” He seemed to know everything about everything. The fact that he was unclear about this point was odd.
He gave her a disgusted look. “I have tendrils everywhere, but I am not
“I still don’t understand why Keating would say he doesn’t have it if he does. Won’t it form part of his exhibition anyhow?”
“Perhaps he means merely to keep it from seekers such as I am. Perhaps, like so many collectors, he cannot bear to share that which he has made part of his private hoard. The potential reasons are many. I simply know the man is lying to me, and must draw my conclusions from that.”
“Of course,” she said slowly, fascinated but horrified. So much was sliding together—Nick’s half-understood account of Magnus’s conversation with Bancroft, what she had seen in the warehouse, Magnus’s interest in her bird. More questions exploded in her mind like a flock of startled pigeons, but the doctor spoke again before she could grab even one.
His face softened, his expression almost amused. “And now I’ve given you what information I have to solve this mystery. Will that buy me some trust, my Helen?”
“Helen?”
“A figure of speech. Helen is the wise woman, the divine truth made flesh.”
“You have an odd notion of flattery.”
“I merely seek to win you over to my cause. Your knowledge and mine added together would be a powerful force.”
“Not in this century or the next,” Evelina shot back.
“Never?”
“Never.”
“You sound like the heroine of a bad novel.
Evelina braced herself, refusing to give ground. “You deal in death magic. That’s what sorcerers do.”
“So I’m a sorcerer. What does that mean to you?”
