The Edge of Dreams (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #14)

“Thank God,” he and I both said at the same time, falling into each other’s arms.

“Did you catch him? He didn’t escape, did he? He was still there in the house where I left him? I sent the constable to find you. I told him how urgent it was.”

“Edward Deveraux didn’t escape,” Daniel said. “We were too late. He’d set off some kind of explosive and it brought the house down, with him in it.”

“I thought he’d set the timer on the bomb,” I said. “He’d rigged the house with explosives, you know. I was terrified you’d open the front door and be blown up.”

“He took you captive? You escaped?” he asked, holding my shoulders fiercely. “What possessed you to go anywhere near him? You knew what he was capable of.”

“I didn’t mean to go near him,” I said. “I saw that he was planning to sail to South America on the Queen of the Amazon tomorrow, and I wanted to see whether he had left his house or not.”

“So you went there? Are you crazy?”

“Of course I didn’t. I’m not stupid, you know. I stood across the street and observed the house. I chatted with a neighbor. She said she hadn’t seen him for a couple of days. Then I noticed one of his drapes was not quite closed, so I went to peek inside. That’s when he must have chloroformed me.”

“Why didn’t you just tell the police and go home? Why take a risk yourself? You’re lucky to be alive.”

“I know that. I came to see you at Mulberry Street, risking your anger, but you weren’t there. I left you a note. I thought I’d help by finding out if he had sailed yet, and when I found that a man matching his description was sailing for South America with his daughter, it began to dawn on me that Dr. Werner might be Edward Deveraux, and that he had Mabel with him. And I didn’t think I was taking a risk by looking at the outside of a house in broad daylight to see if it was still occupied.”

He was gazing at me with a kind of fierce tenderness. “Thank God you’re all right,” he said. “And Mabel too. If you hadn’t released her, she might not have survived.” He was still holding me, his fingers digging into my shoulders as if he wanted to make sure I was there and real.

“He was the snake in her dreams, Daniel,” I said. “He carried her to safety when he torched her parents’ house. He wanted to believe he was her father.”

“And was he?”

“Of course not. Another of his delusions. But one thing he still swore, Daniel. He didn’t kill his father. Edward came upon his father lying there, bent to help him, and got blood all over himself. Everything conspired against him to make him seem guilty, but he was wrongly accused. That’s why he wanted revenge so badly.”

“If he didn’t kill his father, who did?”

“I’m thinking it had to be Marcus, didn’t it? One of the servants heard the father saying ‘You are a disgrace to this family.’ And we know that Marcus has always had expensive tastes.” Then I stopped and put my hand to my mouth. “Oh, Marcus,” I said.

“What?”

“Remember Edward sent you the note about going out with a bang?”

“And he did.”

“No.” I shook my head. “He said the rigging of his house was just a small-scale practice for the big one.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that his final act of revenge would be to bomb the family bank.”

*

Men were dispatched immediately, and they found a large quantity of explosives in the bank cellar and a timer set to go off at ten the next morning—the moment that the ship was to sail. It was dismantled safely, and Marcus Deveraux, when pressed sufficiently by the police, told the truth about what had happened the day his father died. A horrible accident, he said. His father was furious with his debts. He came right up to Marcus, yelling, threatening, waving a sheaf of bills in his face. Marcus pushed his father away because he felt so threatened. His father tripped over the edge of the rug, fell, and hit his head on the fender. Marcus could think of nothing but getting away. He climbed out through the window. When he heard that Edward had been accused he said nothing, deciding that his life was more valuable to the bank and the family’s future than Edward’s. But he paid a large sum for Edward to be housed humanely and well.

I related all this to Sid and Gus the next day while Liam played happily on their floor with their pots and pans.

“I still find this hard to believe,” Gus said. “Think of it, Sid. We actually sat in a hansom cab with a murderer. With a man who had no compassion, no human feeling, and who took the most amazing risks. We are actually fortunate to be alive.”

“Edward Deveraux had no reason to want to dispatch you,” I said. “I think he must have wholeheartedly enjoyed the thrill of being asked to treat a patient whose infirmity he caused in the first place.”