Page 118 of Affair

“Don’t stop.”

It seemed to take forever to negotiate the cramped staircase. Invisible tendrils of the vapor followed them. Baxter realized he was staring too intently at the candle flame. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to throw himself headfirst into it.

Hamilton’s hand clamped unsteadily on his shoulder. “Everything is so strange. This incense is foul stuff.”

Loud footsteps echoed from the chamber above just as Baxter stumbled into a wooden panel set into the wall.

“There’s someone up there,” Hamilton whispered. “Looking for us.”

Baxter listened to the voices as he fumbled with the panel.

“Where are they?” a man growled. “I won’t stay in this room long, I tell ye. Not even with these masks.”

“They’re in here somewhere. They tripped the snare, didn’t they? Must have fainted by now. Collapsed on the other side of that desk or behind the screen, most likely.”

“Hurry. The magician said that too much of this damned smoke can kill. He wants ’em alive.”

Baxter found a handle. He shoved hard. The wooden panel moved silently aside. The candlelight revealed the inside of another wardrobe. For some reason it required an enormous effort to open the doors.

The room beyond was empty and unlit.

He staggered out of the wardrobe.

“I recognize this place,” Hamilton whispered as he followed Baxter. He jerked off his cravat and drew a deep breath. “This is the room where the members of my club gather for our experiments. Always wondered how the magician managed the trick of appearing when we summoned him.”

Voices from the chamber above echoed eerily down the staircase.

“Hell’s teeth, they’re not here,” one of the men shouted. He sounded on the edge of panic.

“They’ve got to be here.” There was sharp desperation in the other rough voice. “We heard ’em when we were on the roof.”

“Look behind the screen.”

“Smoke is so damned thick in here, it’s hard to see. Got to find ’em. Pete and Long Hank will have the Arkendale female by now. If we don’t bring St. Ives to him, the magician will murder us with one of his bloody tricks.”

Baxter shoved Hamilton toward the door. “Go. Find Charlotte. Maybe it’s not too late.”

“You hired Runners to protect her.”

“I cannot rely on them.”

“But what about you?” Hamilton demanded softly.

“I must let them take me.”

“No.”

Baxter met his eyes. “Don’t you understand? If they’ve already got Charlotte, then it’s the only way I’ll find her.”

“But what if they don’t have her yet? You’ll be risking your neck for naught.”

“I know how to look after myself. Just go. You must try to protect Charlotte.”

Hamilton’s eyes, still watering from the effects of the incense, were eloquent with reluctant understanding. He nodded once, abruptly, and then, without a word, whirled and ran to the door.

Baxter took a deep breath of the relatively fresh air in the room and stepped back inside the hidden staircase. He slid the panel shut and started up the steps.

“The bed,” one of the men in the room above said hoarsely. “Look beneath the bed.”

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