“Don’t be ridiculous.” I started moving toward the screen. He went to grab me, expecting me to be the usual kind of helpless miss. But I had been well schooled by experience in my profession as well as by my future bridegroom. I delivered a savage kick to his shin, then brought my elbow up to his windpipe. I heard the thin fabric of my dress ripping under the arm but I didn’t care. Monty gasped and reeled backward. I only needed that half second to run around the screen and down the stairs.
“He’s in there!” I shouted to the constable. “Quickly. The murderer is in there. Don’t let him get away.”
The constable rushed up the stairs. I stood below, holding my breath. But a few minutes later the constable reappeared. “There was nobody there, miss. You must have imagined it.”
“Then he escaped over the rooftop again,” I said. “But he can’t go too far. He’ll have to come down a fire escape on the building behind. Blow your whistle and get help.”
He was now looking at me strangely. “Are you sure about this, miss? You didn’t just imagine that you saw someone. I don’t want to look like a fool if this is for nothing.”
“Of course it’s not for nothing,” I said. “He tried to grab me and I ripped my dress, see?” I demonstrated, not caring that it was unladylike to reveal flesh to a strange man. “And he got into the apartment across the roofs—the way he got in before. He’s wearing climbing boots.”
“And you say he’ll have jumped across to the next roof?”
“Yes, around the corner on Pell Street.”
“Right. I’ll get help then.” He blew his whistle as he headed in that direction. I was very tempted to follow but I saw that there was nothing useful I could do and I certainly didn’t want to find myself taken hostage by a desperate man. I should go straight to police headquarters to await Daniel. I set off back up Mott Street. As I passed the narrow arched entrance beside Lee’s emporium I thought I saw a flash of something light in the darkness beyond. Surely Monty couldn’t have climbed down from the roof already and taken refuge in there? I didn’t know where the arcade led, but it didn’t seem the brightest move to me, seeing that he could be trapped so easily. I peered into the darkness. Had I really…?
A hand came over my mouth and I was yanked backward. I tried to struggle but the hand clamped over my mouth and nose, making it impossible to breathe. I hadn’t realized how strong he was. I was being half dragged, half carried backward down a sort of tunnel. I flailed, fought, and tried to breathe. I could feel singing in my head. Spots danced in front of my eyes and my only thought was one of fury—that I had let this man get the better of me, and that I was going to die before my wedding.
“Damnation,” I heard Monty mutter before I blacked out.
*
I gradually came back to consciousness, like a swimmer coming up from deep water. I was lying on a hard surface in almost total darkness. I lay there, gasping for breath like a landed fish. As I breathed I was conscious of a cloying smoky smell that I couldn’t place. My eyes became used to the darkness and I saw a wooden ceiling, only a foot or two above my head. A moment of panic shot through me that I was lying in a coffin. Then I noticed a fire was glowing nearby. As my lungs tried to work properly again I felt something hard and foul-tasting in my mouth. I gasped in smoke, making me cough and retch.
I knew where I was now—an opium den and not the mock kind of Mr. Connors’s. The cold hard object in my mouth appeared to be the long stem of a pipe, the bowl of which was propped over a glowing brazier. I saw similar pinpoints of light in similar cubicles around the walls and the darker shape of figures lying in tiers around the walls. I tried to move my hand, but my limbs felt lethargic as if they didn’t fully belong to me. If I managed to get my mouth free and shouted for help, would anyone here be awake enough to help me? My eyes wanted to close. I fought the sleep that was overcoming me. Was Monty still here, watching me? Enjoying the spectacle of my being drugged by opium, or had he merely half suffocated me and then left me to give the appearance of an opium addict while he made his getaway?
I had no idea how long I had been unconscious or how much opium I had already breathed in. I was horribly aware of the singing in my head and that my arms and legs were no longer obeying me. If Monty was still watching me, my only course was to breathe as little as possible, feign sleep, and hope that he’d leave.