“That is all in the past,” I said, feeling my cheeks turning red at the thought of explaining this. “He is a reformed character. But Sid and Gus still insist on using the epithet.”
“Because he still doesn’t treat Molly how she deserves to be treated,” Sid said. “Too self-centered by half.”
“Aren’t all men?” Elizabeth said. “My husband is better than most but if he has a pet project then all else is shut from his mind. I once waited over an hour for him to pick me up from the station, because he was rearranging his stamp collection and had forgotten the time.”
I decided that I should probably go home and let these old friends enjoy one another’s company. I rose to my feet. “If you ladies will excuse me,” I said. “It’s been a long day and I should get out of this ridiculous outfit.”
Gus took my arm. “Molly, do stay and have a late supper with us,” she said. “Sid has found some lovely ripe cheeses and we’ve a bottle of claret we’re dying to try.”
“It does sound tempting,” I said, “but I think I should go home and let old friends reminisce.”
Nelly Bly also got up. “And I should also go and change before there is any talk of supper. I’ve been an urchin long enough today.” She held out her hand. “It was my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Murphy.”
“Molly, please,” I said.
“And I am Elizabeth. I prefer not to use my infamous nom de plume when I am not working.”
Her handshake was firm, almost like a man’s.
Gus held open the door for me. “Tomorrow you must come to dinner, or will you be out sleuthing again?”
“I suppose I must, if I’m to do this job thoroughly,” I said, “although I rather think that the young man will turn out to be just as represented.”
“Lunch then,” Sid said. “We won’t take no for an answer.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at them. “Then I definitely accept.”
“Unless Daniel the Deceiver puts in an appearance,” Sid said dryly, “then we’ll be cast aside again, you mark my words.”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “I am not a puppet on a string. I don’t jump to Daniel’s commands. And if he can’t be bothered to send me one note in over a week, then he can wait until I’m ready to see him.”
“Well said, Molly,” Elizabeth applauded. “Spoken like a Vassar graduate. I take it you didn’t go to that esteemed institution?”
“I went to no institution at all,” I said. “I was educated, to a certain extent, with the daughters of the local landowner, but then my mother died and I had to stay home to raise three young brothers. I’d have dearly loved to further my education, but it just wasn’t possible.”
“There is always time,” Elizabeth said. “These two women possess an impressive library and a wealth of interesting and informed friends.”
“I know,” I said. “I have taken full advantage of both. Now if you’ll excuse me, I look forward to continuing this conversation tomorrow. Now I hear soap and a washcloth calling to remove this grime from my face.”
I left them laughing merrily and closed the front door feeling in much better humor. I crossed Patchin Place and was about to put my key in the front door when I was grabbed violently from behind. My arm was wrenched behind my back as an elbow came around my throat.
“Got you,” a voice hissed in my ear. “Don’t try to struggle or it will be the worse for you. I could snap your neck in a second it I wanted to.”
THREE
For a moment I was too terrified to move, and when I tried to struggle I found that my attacker had me in an impossible stranglehold; an arm crushed my windpipe so that I couldn’t even cry out.
“Right. Let’s take a look at you,” the voice continued in low, threatening tones, and I was dragged backward to the lone street lamp. “Okay, who sent you? Who put you up to it, huh? Have the Hudson Dusters now got boys breaking into homes for them?”
The iron grip on my neck was released just a fraction. My heart had started beating again and I recognized the voice.
“Daniel,” I croaked, trying to turn my head toward him. “Daniel, let go of me. It’s me. Molly.”
The hands let go of me as if I was burning.
“Molly? Are you all right?”
“I will be when I can talk again,” I whispered.
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” he said, then glared at me. “What in God’s name do you think you are doing? I thought I’d arrived just in time to nab a burglar.”
“I’ve been out on a case,” I said. “The situation necessitated a disguise.”
He turned me toward him, his big hands resting on my shoulders. “My dear girl, when will you give up this absurd notion and start living a safe and normal life?”
“I have to earn a living,” I said evenly, although the closeness of his presence was unnerving.
“I have enough to worry about at the moment on my own behalf, without having to worry about you. You have to stop taking these absurd risks, do you hear?”
Tell Me, Pretty Maiden (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #7)
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