Page 43 of Lady Gambit
“Erm. No. He’s been detained. We’re to continue without him.”
Detained? Mr Daventry had assured Aaron he would be working with them on the case. “Oh well. I’m sure he’ll join us at some point.”
“While we’re out, we’ll take Gibbs and visit my lodgings above the Old Swan. I need to discover the identity of the man who came looking for me. It could be related to the case.”
She smiled. “I can be ready to leave in five minutes.”
He arched a brow in surprise. “I was of the impression most women require at least an hour to ready themselves for an outing.”
“I’m not most women, Mr Flynn.”
His gaze swept over her. “No, Miss Chance. You’re unlike any woman I have ever met.”
Bethlem Royal Hospital
St George’s Fields
“I’m afraid you can’t see Nora today.” Mr Powell, the gaunt-looking Superintendent, shuffled a few papers on his desk. He had barely looked them in the eye since they’d signed the visitors’ book and taken a seat in his cold office. “We had an incident here late last night.”
Before Mr Flynn could say a word, Delphine sat forward. “What sort of incident?” She got the sense this man kept many secrets. Heaven knows what went on in such an eerie place after sunset. “I pray this isn’t a ploy to prevent us from questioning Miss Adkins.”
Mr Powell rocked nervously in the chair. His eyes were dull and droopy, and he looked like he’d barely slept a wink. “Nora tripped and hit her head. The gash required stitches. She was sent to the infirmary.”
“Tripped?” Mr Flynn said with obvious suspicion. “On what? There’s nothing in her cell but a bed.” He stood abruptly. “I want to see her. I want access to the infirmary.”
Mr Powell gestured for him to sit. “You can’t see?—”
“Do I need to remind you this is a criminal investigation?” Mr Flynn braced his knuckles on the desk and glared at theSuperintendent. “You better hope I find her alive and well. If one of your men hurt her, there’ll be the devil to pay.”
His masterful tone had Mr Powell squirming. “You can’t see Nora Adkins because … because she’s not here. She absconded last night and is probably in Dover by now.”
Mr Flynn jerked in shock. “Absconded?” It took him a moment to absorb the information, then he slapped his hand on the desk and growled, “You’re lying. The woman has been a prisoner here for years. Why would she wait until now to escape? A mere week since I paid her a visit and demanded to know who is funding her keep.”
Was it more than a coincidence?
Was Nora in fear of her life, too?
“Nora hit Dr Collins with a bottle of castor oil and stole his keys.” In his eagerness to cast the blame elsewhere, Mr Powell’s frustration turned to anger. “Perhaps you persuaded her to take matters into her own hands. You gave her the idea it was easier to overpower the doctor than a guard.”
Mr Flynn’s laugh said the notion was absurd.
“These baseless accusations are not helping matters, Mr Powell.” Although she wasn’t a skilled enquiry agent, it was clear they needed two things before they left Bethlem Hospital. “The Home Secretary has sanctioned this investigation. Your failure to help with our enquiries has been duly noted.”
Mr Powell’s contemptuous glare said he believed all women were mad. “Maybe you should leave the men to their work and wait outside, madam.”
A growl rumbled in Mr Flynn’s throat, but she raised a calming hand and smiled. “Might I deal with the matter, sir?” She would make this fool pay for his disparaging tone.
Looking a little intrigued, Mr Flynn nodded.
The tension in the room was palpable.
Aaron said the key to unnerving an opponent was to act like you’ve already won. He employed the same tactic in any conflict situation. She had let her emotions overwhelm her. Let guilt and fear affect her ability to help Mr Flynn with the case. It was time she acted like the sister of four dangerous rogues and not like a naive debutante.
She looked Mr Powell keenly in the eye. “We’re not leaving here without Nora Adkins’ file. If you don’t have it, I shall visit Whitehall and explain that your incompetence is hindering our investigation.”
Mr Powell resisted. “We lost the file during the move from Moorfields, but you’re welcome to rummage through the crates in the basement.”
All men have a vice.
