Simon stood in front of a map of London tacked over the ornithological wallpaper in the library at Hartley Hall. It was marked with four yellow spots corresponding to churches designed by Nicholas Hawksmoor. Two of the four yellow dots were marked with a black X.
“The Sacred Heart Murders,” Simon announced, and tapped the two X’s with his walking stick. “St. George’s Bloomsbury and Christ Church Spitalfields. Both the sites of horrific sacrificial murders.” Then he pointed to the two yellow dots. “St. George in the East and St. Mary Woolnoth. Two other churches designed by Nicholas Hawksmoor where we found the same four names of the so-called zoas from William Blake’s poetry, as well as signs of Pendragon’s inscriptions using Egyptian symbols.”
Kate sat with Penny on a sofa across the room, where they studied a folder of information provided by Sir Henry Clatterburgh as well as various other slips of paper and correspondence associated with the murders. She spoke up. “Speaking of which, tomorrow we are scheduled to visit the British Museum. The records of the Office of Works are housed with the King’s Library, and they contain many of Hawksmoor’s papers. And we will speak with my friend, Thomas Clover, who is a curator of Egyptian materials, and ask him about the hieroglyphs.”
“Right. Now, neither St. George in the East nor St. Mary Woolnoth have hosted a murder. And we are ruling out all other churches as having ritual importance. Correct?”
Kate raised her hand like a patient student. Simon looked at her in confusion, then gave her a lopsided sarcastic grin. He pointed at her.
She sat up straight like a schoolgirl. “Yes, Professor Archer, that is correct.”
“Droll. And Henry is kindly providing watchmen for those two churches.”
Penny said, “So we’re operating under the assumption that the ritual links the four names and four churches.”
“Yes, two victims who need justice.” Simon drew his pipe from his mouth. “And two potential victims we need to prevent.”
“I determined that the victim at St. George’s, in any case, was not drugged so far as I could tell. However, it’s impossible to assume she was a willing participant.” Kate lifted a sheet of paper from the folder. “But there is so little on the two dead women except for what Henry gave us. The first victim, at St. George’s, was named Madeleine Hawley. She was apparently a minor poet who had a few published works. The second, at Christ Church, was named Cecilia de Ronay. She was a courtesan of some note.”
“De Ronay? Sounds familiar.” Simon tapped his chin. “I believe I knew her.”
Kate’s face clouded, and Penny glanced away with a smirk. Then Kate shook her head. “Lord knows why that sort of thing still shocks me. Both victims were members of bohemian society. The interesting connection comes because Henry says both women’s bodies were claimed by the same man.”
“Were the two women related?”
“Not that he knows of. The bodies were claimed by a man calling himself Rowan Barnes.”
“Rowan Barnes?” Simon tilted his head. “Why do I know that name?”
“A prominent Mayfair pimp perhaps?”
Simon laughed and went to a pile of newspapers on the table, where he began to paw through them, tossing papers over his head.
“Could you try not to use my house to re-create that bachelor sty of yours on Gaunt Lane?” Kate asked, then continued, “In any case, the police are not interested in solving these murders. Two dead women are considered disposable, clearly.”
“In their miserable defense, the Metropolitan Police are barely formed and are more skilled at infiltrating reformist groups and pouncing on debtors. Fortunately, we have time to assist them.” He held up a paper in triumph. “Ah! Here we are in the society notices. I remember now. Rowan Barnes oversees the Red Orchid salon.”
“Salon?”
“Yes, he’s an artist, apparently quite popular. And this Red Orchid salon is the place to be if you are artistic or intellectual or pretend to be either.”
“So you’ve been there then?”
“No.” Simon paused, looking at Kate for signs of sarcasm. He rubbed his thumb over the rune on the bowl of his pipe to fire the tobacco again. “But I should have gone. And now we shall.”
Charlotte popped up suddenly from behind the sofa. “May I go?”
Penny leapt to her feet with a shout. “Good God!”
Kate started with surprise. “Charlotte! How did you get in here? It’s not appropriate for you to listen to this, dear.”
“Why?”
“We’re talking about very disturbing subjects. You should go to your room.”
Charlotte pouted. “No. I want to stay. I don’t like being in my room alone. I’m not upset by what you’re saying. I’ve seen many dead people.”