Page 17 of Affair

Baxter was annoyed by her optimistic spirits. He glanced at her as she stood beside him in front of the darkened Heskett house. Her cloak rendered her anonymous. He knew himself to be equally well covered. He had turned up the wide collar of his greatcoat and pulled down the brim of his hat to ensure that his features were drenched in dense shadows.

The weak gas lights that had recently been installed in this part of town could not penetrate far into the fog. So long as he and Charlotte stayed out of the short range of the lamplight, they would be reasonably safe from detection. Nevertheless, Baxter thought it best to make one more stab at discouraging his new employer from her risky activities.

“You would do well to have some concerns on the subject, Miss Arkendale. As I have already advised you, this little adventure of yours is fraught with danger. It is not too late to turn back. The carriage I hired is waiting just a short distance away in the park.”

“Not another word, if you please, St. Ives,” she said crisply. “You have been attempting to dissuade me from this project ever since we first discussed it. It grows wearying. I did not employ you to be the voice of gloom.”

“I feel an obligation to advise you.”

“I do not employ you for advice, either, sir. Enough. We don’t have time for any more of your warnings and dire predictions. The time has come to get on with it.”

“As you say, Miss Arkendale.”

He watched as she unfastened the low iron gate to the side of the main entrance and started down the stone steps that led to the kitchen.

The front area of the town house, designed to provide access for servants and tradesmen, was situated below street level. Tendrils of fog swirled out of the black pit at the bottom of the steps. Charlotte’s cloaked figure wafted, ghostlike, down into the stygian darkness before Baxter could think of any more warnings or arguments.

He moved swiftly to overtake Charlotte. He caught up with her as she came to a halt in the shadows near the kitchen door.

“Allow me, Miss Arkendale.”

“Very well, sir, but I pray you will not delay us any further.”

“I would not dream of it. Stand back.”

“Whatever for, sir?”

“Miss Arkendale, it is my turn to warn you not to delay us with idle questions. Now that we are committed to this piece of idiocy, speed is of the essence.”

“Of course, Mr. St. Ives.” Charlotte’s shoes scraped lightly on the stone as she stepped back. “Please proceed.”

Baxter could not see a thing in the thick darkness there below the street. He needed some light but he dared not use the lantern until they were inside the house.

He reached into the pocket of his greatcoat and withdrew one of three small glass vials he had stored there. He snapped the vial in half. There was a flash of bright, intense light. He used his body to shield the glow. The glare revealed the kitchen door and its lock.

Charlotte gave a startled exclamation. “What in heaven’s name is that, Mr. St. Ives?”

“I have devoted some time recently to working on a new method of producing instantaneous lights.” Baxter fished a set of steel needles out of his pocket. “I am attempting to develop one that will last for more than a few seconds.”

“I see.” Charlotte’s soft voice was imbued with admiration. “How very clever of you, sir. Where did you get those little tools?”

“We men-of-affairs must acquire a variety of skills in order to stay employable.” He had learned to use the lock picks before the venture to Italy, knowing full well that he would be obliged to get through several locked doors in Morgan Judd’s castle.

The light was already fading. Baxter selected a needle and slid it into the lock.

He closed his eyes and applied the lock pick gently. There was a faint click. The lock gave just as the last of the flaring light created by his new phosphorous compound sputtered out of existence.

“Excellent work, Mr. St. Ives.”

“It depends entirely on one’s point of view.” Baxter pushed open the door and moved cautiously into the kitchen. “The new owner of this house, for example, may not be so happily impressed. In fact, he might well have a serious objection to this little act of housebreaking. I certainly would if I were in his shoes.”

“I told you, I made inquiries. The house is empty and likely to remain so until Mrs. Heskett’s heir arrives to deal with the estate. By all accounts he is a distant relative who lives somewhere in Scotland and is quite infirm. No one expects him anytime soon.”

“What of the servants?”

“They all left shortly after the murder. There was no one around to pay their wages. We have the place to ourselves.”

“As you are determined to go through with this business of searching for clues, we had best move quickly.” Baxter closed the kitchen door and lit the lantern. “I instructed the coachman to come in search of us if we did not reappear in the park within half an hour’s time.”

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