The Runaway McBride (35 page)

She looked around her.
I’m beside the river. I think I see lights winking from boats. There’s a street. I’m on a street
.
And there’s a signpost
.

What does it say
?

She peered up at the sign.
Belvedere Street
. Her head whipped around when she heard a twig crack. Her pursuer had caught up to her.
Run
.

Faith! The Hugheses’ house is on Belvedere Street! Don’t go near it. Hide. I’ll find you
.

No response. “I’ve lost her.”

Roderick looked up from his notes. “What did you say?”

“I said that I know where she is, and there isn’t going to be an exchange. I’ve known from the beginning how it will end.”

“How can you possibly know? ”

“Because I’ve lived through this night many times. Get your coat, and make sure you’re armed.”

“But—but . . .”

“I’ll explain everything on the way to the Hugheses’ house.”

“But . . .”

“Move your arse, Roddy! We don’t have much time.”

She didn’t know how long she had been stumbling from the
cover of one tree to another, but she knew she could not go on much longer. Breathing was difficult, there was a stitch in her side, and the mist had penetrated her clothes, making her skin cold and clammy.

At the next clump of dense shrubbery, she crouched down and listened. She could hear his muted steps. He was gaining on her. She let out a whimper of pure animal terror. She had to move. He’d seen her! He was coming for her!

Starting to her feet, she ran like a hare, unmindful of the stitch in her side or the bushes that tore at her clothes and exposed skin. There was no attempt to hide from him now. She could hear him crashing through the shrubbery, but she refused to give up. She was running the race of her life.

Suddenly the trees thinned, and a house, ablaze with lights, loomed in front of her. If she was running like a hare before, now her feet moved like lightning. She was outdistancing him! Sobbing with relief, she gave a last burst of speed and raced across a terrace. Light spilled out from a French door. She burst into the room and fell to her knees. A lady came toward her.

Crouched over, Faith gasped out, “You must help me. There’s man chasing me. I think he wants to kill me.”

Hardly had she said the words when the man who was chasing her stepped though the French door. He spoke to the other woman.

He, too, was gasping for breath. “I’m sorry, ma’am. She got away from us. If I’d known she was making for here, I would have taken my time.”

“No harm done, John. You might say Fate guided her steps.”

They both chuckled.

Faith’s head jerked up, and she looked into the cold stare of Sophie Hughes. “You!” she whispered, doubting what her eyes and ears were telling her. Mrs. Hughes was her friend.

No one answered her. The steward grabbed her by the shoulders and dumped her unceremoniously in a chair. Faith was too stunned to struggle or protest.

The steward said, “I should go back to the old Briggs place to make sure Roper is all right.” He withdrew Faith’s revolver from his pocket. “Do you know how to use this?”

“Do I know how to use a revolver?” Mrs. Hughes laughed. “My dear John, one does not travel in Egypt unless one knows how to use a gun. Give it here.”

The steward smiled. “Lock the doors,” he said, “we don’t want any of the servants wandering in.”

As he left, Mrs. Hughes locked both doors, but she did not take her eyes off Faith.

Faith’s wits were becoming sharper by the minute.
James
, her mind cried out.

I’m with Mrs. Hughes in a room off the terrace
.
She’s the villain, James, and her steward is outside in the grounds. Be careful! She has my gun! They’re both armed
.

Keep her talking. Delay her. I’m on the Westminster Bridge. Don’t give up. I’m inside your mind now, and I’ll know every word you say or think
.

He knew where she was and knew that Mrs. Hughes was a villain. Hope soared. Keep her talking. Delay her. “What are you going to do with me? ”

A faint smile touched the corners of Sophie Hughes’s mouth. “We have arranged an exchange: you for Madeline’s diary.”

“Who is we? You and your husband? Or you and the steward?”

Mrs. Hughes brought up the revolver, and her knuckles showed white as her fingers tightened on it. “My steward and I shall do whatever is necessary to protect my husband.”

“
Your
steward?”

“John Arden was my late father’s steward and is completely loyal to me.”

Sudden comprehension exploded behind Faith’s eyes, and she blurted out, “He was the man who was watching me when I went out to meet Alastair in the garden the night of the lecture. He was going to kill me.”

Mrs. Hughes gave a titter of laughter. “So, you haven’t worked everything out. No. You were quite safe then. You interrupted John when he went back to the boathouse after it was dark to move Danvers’s body. I didn’t want him found on my property, you see.”

Faith said slowly, “Your husband isn’t a part of this, is he? You were the one who murdered my mother. Madeline recognized your husband, didn’t she? She knew his secret and tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen. You were afraid that she would reveal his secret in her memoirs, and you couldn’t allow it. Yes, that’s how it must have been.”

She was too caught up in grief and horror to hear James’s warning. “You drugged her. She must have suspected that she was drugged, and she hid her diary. It was premeditated. You wanted her to die so that she would be silenced forever. Then you looked for her diary. Is that why her box went missing? Did you steal it, hoping to find her diary in it? ”

Sophie Hughes gave a superior smile, but she remained silent.

Goaded, Faith went on, “But the diary wasn’t there, was it? All these years, what you must have suffered, not knowing when it would turn up! Well, look at you. You’re an old woman before your time. No wonder your husband strays to other women.”

The transformation in Mrs. Hughes was dramatic. Her eyes bulged, her lips twisted, baring her teeth, and rage flashed in her eyes. “Basil loves me. He always has, and he always will. I won’t let anything or anyone come between us.”

Faith could not keep the sneer from her voice. “You sound like a love-struck schoolgirl. Dora Winslet could take lessons from you. That is not love. That’s a delusion. If your husband loves you, where is he now?”

The older woman’s face was a mask of disdain. “He is a man, Miss McBride. He doesn’t give me an account of every minute of every day. He has his clubs to go to.”

“And his women? Oh, it’s no secret. But you know about them, don’t you? Are you sure you’re not more afraid of the scandal to yourself than you are of your husband’s downfall? You’ll be a laughingstock.”

The older woman’s face flushed an angry red. “My husband is a real man. Those women are mere distractions. They mean nothing to him.”

Faith was running out of things to say. “Danvers,” she said, with no idea of what she would say next. With a facility that surprised, her, the words flowed naturally. “Is that where your husband met Danvers, at his clubs? Did Danvers owe him money? Is that how you lured him into your game?”

“What an inquisitive person you are!” Mrs. Hughes gave a creditable laugh. “Guilty as charged. If poor Robert had not become greedy, he would be alive today. He deserved to die.”

Faith shook her head. “If you could only hear yourself. He was greedy, so you murdered him? What about me? What are you going to do with me? James won’t give you the diary if you kill me. And it’s possible that I’ve decoded the diary. What will you do, then? ”

“Why do you think I’m keeping you alive?” Her voice turned vicious. “But once the exchange is made, you’ll both die.”

The threat cleared Faith’s mind as nothing else could.
James?

Get ready to run, Faith. I’m going to distract her. When I do, run like hell
.

The crack of a pistol shot exploded outside on the terrace.

“John!” Mrs. Hughes ran to the French door.

In one heave, Faith was out of the chair and took off in the opposite direction. Her fingers had never moved faster to unlock the door, then she went tearing into the hall. A shot whizzed past her ear and became embedded in the wall ahead. Ducking, weaving from side to side, she bolted up the cantilevered staircase. Servants in nightclothes came out to look down over the banister. Two shots in quick succession had them scurrying for cover.

When she came to the first landing, she hesitated. She didn’t know which way to go. The stairs were lit from a chandelier high above, and though the light had been turned down, it was bright enough to give her position away. On her right was a long, dark corridor with a light at the end. Holding her breath, in fear and trembling, she plunged into the sheltering dark.

In a corridor, a long, dark corridor. Oh God, it’s just like our nightmare
.

She had to stop to catch her breath and screamed when a vase on a tall pedestal shattered, and fragments of porcelain went flying. Fine dust settled on her hair. Another shot exploded over her head.

Listen to me, Faith. There’s a gallery on the next floor up, don’t you remember? It overlooks the room where we heard the lecture. Go to the gallery
.

Where will you be
?

I’ll be waiting for you
.

Though she could hear steps behind her, she did not look back. Blind instinct gave her an agility she had not known she possessed. She raced down the corridor and up the next flight of stairs, then came out on the gallery. There was no sight nor sound of James.

She turned back to look along the corridor. A shadowy figure began to close the distance between them, Faith knew it was Mrs. Hughes. She knew this was where it would end. She didn’t have the strength to go on. For every inch Mrs. Hughes advanced, she retreated. She wasn’t conceding defeat. Her mind was crystal clear. There was no panic. She would disable the other woman or . . . or . . . She braced herself as Mrs. Hughes raised the revolver, then her breath caught when a voice spoke out of the darkness: James’s voice.

“Mrs. Hughes, you’re under arrest for the murder of Madeline Maynard.”

Sophie Hughes whirled around and pulled the trigger. Faith heard James gasp as the bullet struck him. She was frozen in shock. Then the Hughes woman turned the gun on Faith. Nothing happened when she pulled the trigger except a click on an empty chamber.

Faith’s eyes searched the dark corridor. “James?” she quavered. “I can’t see you.”

“Give me a moment.” His voice sounded strained. “That bullet gave me quite a nick. Just stay where you are. The police should be here at any moment. I sent Roderick to get them. He took Arden with him, trussed like a turkey for safety’s sake.”

At these words, Mrs. Hughes lunged for Faith with the ferocity of a cornered wildcat. She was pulling her to the banister, shoving her against it, trying to push her over. Faith found herself fighting for her life. She heard James groaning as he dragged himself to his feet, but all her wits and energies were focused on keeping her feet on the ground. She heaved, she bucked, she bit and scratched. The other woman was stronger and heavier. She was lifting Faith off her feet, bending her over the banister. They were both going to go over.

“You’ll never publish your mother’s memoirs,” Mrs. Hughes ground out between clenched teeth. “You’ll never disgrace my husband.”

James distracted the Hughes woman when he started forward. With a mighty shove, Faith pushed out of those strong arms. For a heart-stopping instant, Sophie Hughes flapped her arms like a bird taking flight, then she slowly toppled into the void. Her bloodcurdling scream could be heard through the whole house.

 

 

The next few hours passed in a blur for Faith. Roderick
arrived with two policemen who took their statements then let them go. They got James home and sent for the doctor, who proceeded to remove a bullet from his shoulder. The whole house, it seemed, buzzed with people, all crowded into James’s bedchamber. Faith couldn’t get over the difference in them. They were Burnetts. They didn’t show their softer feelings, yet here they were, all ashen-faced and trembling and choking up with tears, and hugging each other as though James was at death’s door, when the doctor insisted that his patient wasn’t in any danger. She came in for a few hugs, too.

Finally, in sheer frustration, the doctor ordered everyone out. They were all reluctant to leave, but the doctor became a tyrant and insisted he was only thinking of his patient. Before she got to her own door, she was intercepted by Roderick.

“Faith,” he said softly, as though he might waken the whole house if he raised his voice, “James has broken the code to the last two pages of your mother’s diary.”

It took her several seconds to comprehend his meaning. “James broke the code? ”

He nodded. In his hands he had her mother’s diary and another book that she recognized instantly as her father’s commentary on Herodotus.

“Look,” he said, “this may not be the right time to explain how it works. You’ve been through enough for one night. What I really wanted to say is that, with your permission, I’ll decode it for you and give you a complete transcript after you’ve had good night’s rest.”

Suddenly, sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. “No. That is, I think I should be the one to transcribe my mother’s last message. Will you show me how to do it? ”