“Ha! Don’t be ridiculous! What an outlandish joke to make! Ha!” Mr. Kent said before shooting me a scowl to keep quiet.
Step by step, we lugged this definitely-not-a-corpse up the stairs and into the safety of the boarding house.
“Is everything all right?” Sebastian asked, finding us by the door.
“Yes, I’m just trying to decide whether I really want to know what Mr. Kent has been doing,” I said.
“I went to get Mr. Jarsdel,” Mr. Kent said.
“You found him?” Catherine asked, the entrance starting to grow very crowded.
The trunk rumbled loudly in response, startling us all back a step. A pounding and muffled noises came from inside.
“Oh, he’s awake,” Mr. Kent said. “Mr. Braddock, would you help me show him to his room?”
Chapter Eleven
“WHERE DID—how on earth did you find him?” I asked, following them up the stairs.
“I wondered to myself where I would go if I was released from the police after committing a murder and I had some free time before committing my next one.” They reached the first-floor landing, and Mr. Kent looked back at me for an answer.
“Mr. Kent, with you, I really couldn’t even begin to guess.”
“Why thank you, Miss Wyndham,” he said, taking it as a compliment. He looked past me at Catherine and Rose to see if they had an answer. “Someone must have a guess.”
“Just tell us,” Catherine said.
He spoke slowly so we could join in when we’d figured it out. “I’d celebrate at … the brothel … where my captors are being impersonated … and are at my complete service. Exactly.”
“He went back to Miss Molly’s?” I asked.
“Indeed,” Mr. Kent said, picking up the trunk again. “I simply asked her girls to slip some laudanum into his wine if he returned. Much easier than burning down a museum to capture him.”
They brought the trunk up to the empty bedroom on the second floor and dropped it in the center. Miss Chen and Mr. Adeoti filed in behind Catherine and Rose before Sebastian went over to close the door.
Mr. Kent pulled a key out from his pocket and unlatched the lock while the rest of the room watched in tense silence. “Don’t worry, he’s been bound alread—”
A white blinding light filled the room and my sight was gone. Shouts and scuffling filled the air.
“Dammit, someone grab him!” Mr. Kent yelled.
I felt my body shoved to the ground, and footsteps pounded past me toward the exit. And then there was a definitive thud as another body hit the ground beside me.
“I have him pinned down,” Sebastian said over the sounds of Mr. Jarsdel grunting. “Everyone stay still and keep your eyes closed. Your sight will return in a few minutes.”
The sounds of struggling continued as I heard Sebastian drag Mr. Jarsdel back against the far wall. Wood screeched across the floor, and as I stood back up, my sight slowly returned to see the blurry shape of Sebastian tying our prisoner to a chair.
“Evelyn, would you stand by the door?” Sebastian asked, dragging Mr. Jarsdel to the other corner.
That would put me out of his range. “Are you sure?”
Sebastian kept his eyes closed, only opening them for brief moments. He took a deep breath before answering. “Yes, I just need fifteen seconds.”
I groped my way along the wall, keeping my eyes closed in case Mr. Jarsdel tried to blind us again. “All right, I’m here.”
“Starting now,” Sebastian said.
I started my count. After five seconds, Mr. Jarsdel’s muffled yells and squirming grew louder. After ten seconds, they turned into coughing. After fifteen seconds, I stepped forward and opened my eyes.
Sebastian had let go of him and stepped away. Mr. Jarsdel looked as ill as he had at the police station—pale face, blue splotches, a sheen of sweat on his brow. He was still conscious, and for a brief moment, he gritted his teeth and his body glowed like he was going to bathe the room in light again, but he let out a heavy breath and started coughing, too weak to follow through with it.
One by one, I pulled my friends to the door, out of Sebastian’s range, where they could keep a hold on me. Within a minute, their vision began to return.
“Another intimidating start to an interrogation,” Miss Chen drawled, rubbing her eyes.
A knock sounded on the door. “Is everyone all right in there?” Mrs. Tuffins asked, entering before I could stop her.
“Yes, Mrs. Tuffins,” I said, stepping in front of her. “We just dropped something.”
“I see,” she said, glancing past me. “If your new guest needs anything, please let me know.”
I turned around to find that Mr. Kent had hastily draped a blanket over Mr. Jarsdel in his chair. “Oh, uh, no. He’s feeling rather unwell right now.”
“How unfortunate,” she said. “Would a bowl of soup help?”
“He only needs rest for now, but thank you,” I said. “Perhaps we’ll bring him down later if he’s feeling better.”
“I do hope so,” Mrs. Tuffins said with a smile and proceeded back downstairs, singing to herself. “So many guests!”
I closed the door and saw everyone had gathered around Mr. Jarsdel. I found a spot next to Sebastian by the window, took his hand, feeling the buzz from his skin, and squeezed it. No matter how many times he did it, it looked like it didn’t get any easier. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He nodded and squeezed back. No smile on his face but at least a hint of relief.
Meanwhile, Mr. Kent was busy removing the cloth stuffed into Mr. Jarsdel’s mouth. “All right, Mr. Jarsdel, first question. Would you like a bowl of soup?”
“No,” Mr. Jarsdel huffed. “Not from you.”
“Well, I’m out of questions,” Mr. Kent said.
“Ask him where Captain Goode is,” I said.
Mr. Kent looked at me skeptically, but he asked anyway. “Where might we find Captain Goode?”
“At his home,” Mr. Jarsdel said with a contemptuous, or woozy, tilt of the head.
“And where is that?” Mr. Kent asked.
“37 Lowndes Square.”
Belgravia. So close to my parents’ home. I unconsciously balled my hand into a fist.
“I think we have everything we need then,” I said.
“Evelyn, no, we already discussed this,” Catherine said firmly.
“Discussed what?” Mr. Kent asked.
“Her idea is to find Captain Goode and attack him from a distance,” Catherine answered.
“Oh.” Mr. Kent frowned. “We’re definitely not doing that again.”
“We’ll have an actual plan,” I argued. “The other ideas are worse.”
“Ask him about the murders,” Catherine said. “There’s a connection.”
“Who have you killed in the past week?” Mr. Kent asked.
Mr. Jarsdel raised his head and answered with a smile, as if he were remembering fond memories. “Thomas Cox and Laurence Snow.”
“That’s it?” Catherine asked. “Lord Bell was killed in a fire at the colonial office. That wasn’t him?”
“Who killed Lord Bell?” Mr. Kent asked.
“I don’t know and I don’t care.”
“Fine, why did you try to kill Sir Thomas, Lord Snow, and Lord Lister?” Mr. Kent asked.
“Captain Goode sent an order,” he answered simply.
Mr. Kent sighed. “Why did he order you to kill them?”
“Said he wanted to kill aristocrat types to protect the Society.”
Of course. “That clears things up for our list then,” I said pointedly. I knew I was sniping at Catherine, but I couldn’t help it. Not when we could actually do something.
Catherine glared at me. “Is there no other connection between them?”
“Yes. They’re men,” Mr. Jarsdel answered Mr. Kent unhelpfully.
Mr. Adeoti cleared his throat and approached the prisoner. “Perhaps I can find something more. Miss Chen, would you mind tearing off his collar?”
Miss Chen took a few steps closer to see the collar clearly and ripped along the seam with precision as Mr. Adeoti pulled it away. He sat on the bed and closed his eyes to read the piece for information.
“You should see if there’s a way he’ll join us,” Miss Chen suggested to Mr. Kent. “Maybe he’s being coerced.”
“Do you want to kill us?” Mr. Kent asked Mr. Jarsdel.
“I do,” he said groggily. “I’ll do it one day.”
Mr. Kent rubbed his brow. “Would you consider joining us against Captain Goode?”