drug to be put into the food or drink, and then where would Matthew find himself at first light? He saw a figure pull aside a gauzy window curtain and look out upon the street, but whether it was the man or woman he didn’t know. He remained perfectly still until the curtain was dropped and the figure gone, and then he released in a white mist the breath he’d been holding.
By his reckoning it was now ten minutes or so past seven. They would be wondering if he was coming or not. All those candles, burning in expectation of a visitor. He had to go, he decided. How else to possibly learn where the letter might be, if indeed it still survived? No, he couldn’t do it, he decided in the next moment. It was too dangerous. But if he didn’t go…what would be the next tragedy inflicted upon New York—and his friends—in his name?
He had to go.
No…wait…think it out a little more. Once inside that house, he was at their mercy.
Damn it, he thought. They’ve got me in a trap.
He had to go.
He started to leave his position of relative safety. He saw a figure come to that window again, peer between the curtains and then withdraw. He took a step forward, toward whatever fate awaited him.
“What are you doing out here, Matthew?”
He nearly cried out in alarm, and spinning around he found a dark-garbed figure standing a few feet behind him. But he knew the voice, and once past the shock he realized Berry Grigsby must’ve come through the alley from the opposite end. She was wrapped in her black coat and hood but the red tresses flowed free and he could make out her face by the reflected candlelight of the house across the way.
“Oh my God !” he was able to croak. That wasn’t enough. “Oh Jesus !” he said, his face still contorted with pure fear. “Are you insane ? What are you doing here?”
“I’m following you ,” she said, with a defiant note. She lifted her chin like a weapon. “I know…it was wrong. Possibly. But I saw you leave your house and I saw you turn to the left when you usually turn to the right. So I knew you weren’t going to the Trot. Or to Sally Almond’s. Or to anywhere you usually go. I know it was wrong. Possibly,” she repeated, as if asking for his understanding. “Matthew, I’m worried about you. I mean…I’m concerned . As a friend. You see?”
“I see you shouldn’t be here!” He glanced quickly over his shoulder at the house. Oh, they were starting to grit their teeth in there by now. They were starting to sharpen their knives and pour out their gunpowder. He couldn’t believe how stupid he was getting. His lack of attention could have been his finish, if she’d been one of Fell’s killers. “Step back,” he told her. “Step back !” She obeyed, and he stepped toward her to make up for the pace he’d taken to break his cover. “Are you spying on me? Is that it? Berry, I have a dangerous job to do! You can’t be coming up behind me like this!”
“Dangerous?” Her voice tightened, and instantly he knew he should not have said that. “Dangerous how?” She looked past him, across Nassau Street. “That’s Dr. Mallory’s house. What’s the danger here?”
“I can’t explain it.”
“Yes,” she said. “You can.”
“Go home,” he told her.
“I wouldn’t leave now if…if…” She mentally searched for a fearsome image and found it. “If Brutus the bull came charging down this alley. No! You can’t tell me something is—”
“Keep your voice down,” he cautioned.
“Is dangerous and then tell me to go home, like a child,” she finished, adjusting her volume to nearly a whisper. She saw a movement in the Mallory house. Someone was looking out the window. Then whoever it was retreated. She aimed her gaze at Matthew. “What’s going on?”
“My business. I told you to—”
Berry took a step forward and suddenly they were standing face-to-face. Matthew smelled her: an aroma like cinammon and roses, even on a frigid night like this.
By his reckoning it was now ten minutes or so past seven. They would be wondering if he was coming or not. All those candles, burning in expectation of a visitor. He had to go, he decided. How else to possibly learn where the letter might be, if indeed it still survived? No, he couldn’t do it, he decided in the next moment. It was too dangerous. But if he didn’t go…what would be the next tragedy inflicted upon New York—and his friends—in his name?
He had to go.
No…wait…think it out a little more. Once inside that house, he was at their mercy.
Damn it, he thought. They’ve got me in a trap.
He had to go.
He started to leave his position of relative safety. He saw a figure come to that window again, peer between the curtains and then withdraw. He took a step forward, toward whatever fate awaited him.
“What are you doing out here, Matthew?”
He nearly cried out in alarm, and spinning around he found a dark-garbed figure standing a few feet behind him. But he knew the voice, and once past the shock he realized Berry Grigsby must’ve come through the alley from the opposite end. She was wrapped in her black coat and hood but the red tresses flowed free and he could make out her face by the reflected candlelight of the house across the way.
“Oh my God !” he was able to croak. That wasn’t enough. “Oh Jesus !” he said, his face still contorted with pure fear. “Are you insane ? What are you doing here?”
“I’m following you ,” she said, with a defiant note. She lifted her chin like a weapon. “I know…it was wrong. Possibly. But I saw you leave your house and I saw you turn to the left when you usually turn to the right. So I knew you weren’t going to the Trot. Or to Sally Almond’s. Or to anywhere you usually go. I know it was wrong. Possibly,” she repeated, as if asking for his understanding. “Matthew, I’m worried about you. I mean…I’m concerned . As a friend. You see?”
“I see you shouldn’t be here!” He glanced quickly over his shoulder at the house. Oh, they were starting to grit their teeth in there by now. They were starting to sharpen their knives and pour out their gunpowder. He couldn’t believe how stupid he was getting. His lack of attention could have been his finish, if she’d been one of Fell’s killers. “Step back,” he told her. “Step back !” She obeyed, and he stepped toward her to make up for the pace he’d taken to break his cover. “Are you spying on me? Is that it? Berry, I have a dangerous job to do! You can’t be coming up behind me like this!”
“Dangerous?” Her voice tightened, and instantly he knew he should not have said that. “Dangerous how?” She looked past him, across Nassau Street. “That’s Dr. Mallory’s house. What’s the danger here?”
“I can’t explain it.”
“Yes,” she said. “You can.”
“Go home,” he told her.
“I wouldn’t leave now if…if…” She mentally searched for a fearsome image and found it. “If Brutus the bull came charging down this alley. No! You can’t tell me something is—”
“Keep your voice down,” he cautioned.
“Is dangerous and then tell me to go home, like a child,” she finished, adjusting her volume to nearly a whisper. She saw a movement in the Mallory house. Someone was looking out the window. Then whoever it was retreated. She aimed her gaze at Matthew. “What’s going on?”
“My business. I told you to—”
Berry took a step forward and suddenly they were standing face-to-face. Matthew smelled her: an aroma like cinammon and roses, even on a frigid night like this.
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