Wait Until Midnight

THIRTY-SEVEN

Adam waited for his prey in the stillness and shadows of the well-furnished lodgings. He heard the key in the lock shortly before six o'clock that evening.

The door opened. Elsworth let himself into the room and made to turn up the nearest lamp.

Adam moved out of the shadows, caught him by the back of his coat and hurled him against the wall.

Elsworth grunted heavily, bounced off the paneling and landed hard on his side. He scrambled frantically to right himself.

"If you move so much as a finger, I will break it," Adam said.

Elsworth froze half-sitting, half-sprawled on the floor. "Hardesty? What the deuce is this about?"

Adam lit the lamp. "It is about two murders and a missing diary."

"Have you gone mad, sir? How dare you invade my residence like this and imply that I am in any way connected to murder?"

"I want answers, Elsworth, and I want them quickly. Tell me everything you know about the deaths of Elizabeth Delmont and Irene Toller"

"I was barely acquainted with those two frauds. I had nothing to do with their deaths and you cannot prove other-wise. Now, I advise you to leave at once or I shall summon a constable. I have an important reception and a demonstration at Wintersett House to prepare for this evening"

"If you don't tell me what I want to know, you are not only going to miss this evening's performance, I will also make certain that your career as London's most fashion-able medium comes to an end tonight."

Elsworth stared. "Are you threatening my life, sir?"

"At the moment, merely your livelihood. But that could certainly change?

"Bah" Elsworth relaxed visibly. "Do you really think that anything you say can persuade people not to believe in my powers? If so, you are a fool. People believe what they wish to believe and at the moment, most of London is pleased to believe that I am the most powerful practitioner of psychical powers who has ever lived."

"You misunderstand me, Elsworth. I do not intend to ex-pose you as a fraudulent practitioner, but rather as a financial fraud." Adam picked up the envelope he had placed on a table a short time before. He opened it, turned it upside down and let the Drexford Co. stock certificates fall to the carpet.

Elsworth glanced uneasily at the documents. "Where did you get those?"

"Out of the bottom drawer of your desk."

"See here, I don't know what makes you think that I know anything about those certificates."

"The printer who arranged to produce those for you is an old and trusted acquaintance of mine," Adam said "He is also the cautious sort. He had you followed after the two of you did business together. He likes to know as much as possible about his clients, you see. It provides him with a measure of security."

Elsworth grimaced. "That old villain. Sh^ould have known he would pull a trick like that. Well, it won't do you any good. He is hardly likely to testify against me. He's got too many secrets of his own to hide."

"I don't need his testimony to destroy your calmer. You do not appear to be aware of the fact that I have some powers of my own."

Elsworth eyed him warily. "What are you talking about?"

"One word from me concerning the true nature of your business operations, Elsworth, and every newspaper in the city will take great delight in exposing the financial scandal you perpetrated with the help of two murdered mediums."

"You have no proof," Elsworth said weakly.

"You know as well as I do that evidence and proof are unimportant trifles when it comes to a press sen^sation. But, to be frank, exposure in the papers should be the least of your concerns."

"What do you mean?"

"I would remind you of my position in ^the Polite World," Adam said gently. "I not only control a Fortune, I am Wilson Grendon's heir and I have a very close connection to the Earl of Southwood. I promise you that before I am finished, all the important doors in Society that are presently open to you will close so suddenly and with such force that you will be able to hear the echoes all the way across England.

Elsworth gave that statement about two seconds' thought. "What, precisely, do you want to know?" he asked wearily.

Adam picked up the diary that he had found hidden beneath the bed. "As a matter of curiosity, where did you find this? I searched Elizabeth Delmont's house very carefully that night."

"I was more closely acquainted with her than you were, sir. Delmont actually considered herself a professional colleague of mine. When I expressed some passing interest in her tricks and devices, she very proudly gave me a tour of her secrets" Elsworth gave a gentlemanly snort. "She wanted to impress me, and I will admit she was somewhat more clever than many of her competitors. She had in-stalled a number of concealed cupboards and cabinets. One of them was behind the wall sconce in the séance room. I found the diary in it"

"Unfortunately, I missed that particular cupboard" Adam put the journal down. "If I had located the diary that night, I could have saved myself a good deal of trouble." He watched Elsworth closely. "How did you know to search for it?"

"Delmont had told me that she had recently come into possession of a private journal that had great potential for blackmail. She actually bragged about it. As I told you, she wanted to make me see her as an equal, not as a lowly assistant. After I found her body, I decided it might be worth-while to make a quick search to see if I could locate the diary. I admit, she had made me curious about the possibility of an easy profit."

"You found the journal."

"Yes, but once I read the damned thing, I decided it would be best not to use it.»

"What made you come to that conclusion?"

"I make my living by my wits," Elsworth said dryly. "I'm not a fool. I did not want to take the risk of blackmailing a man as powerful and as dangerous as you are, Hardesty. But you forced my hand when you continued to investigate the murders. I knew that sooner or later you would uncover my very profitable little investment scheme."

"You sent those two men to warn me off, didn't you?" Elsworth shrugged. "I was getting desperate. The diary was all I had to use against you."

"I understand why you took the diary. But why did you take the mourning brooch and the veil?"

Elsworth scowled, genuinely confused. "What brooch? What veil?"

"The veil was soaked with Mrs. Delmont's blood. The brooch was decorated with black enamel. It contained a photograph of a young woman in a white gown and veil. It also held a lock of blond hair."

Elsworth went very still. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. The veil and the brooch were both on Delmont's body when I found her. I'm certain Toller placed them there deliberately. But I don't know why or where she got them."

Elsworth's voice grew tense. "I have met with Durward Reed in his office at Wintersett House several times. There is a certain photograph on the wall next to the door."

"What are you saying?"

"I fear that the situation may be far worse than you know."

A short time later, Adam banged the knocker on the door at Number 22 Corley Lane. Mrs. Plummer answered. She looked confused when he asked to see Caroline.

"She left this afternoon, sir. Got a note from Mr. Reed at the Society for Psychical Investigations saying he wanted to talk about a contract for one of her sensation novels. I expected her home before now, but she hasn't re-turned. She must have been delayed."

He told himself to stay calm.

"Are either of her aunts home?"

"No, sir. They've gone off to dine with friends and play some cards. They won't be back until quite late. Is some-thing wrong, Mr. Hardesty?"

"I'm sure all is well, Mrs. Plummer."

But he knew that he was lying to both of them. THIRTY-EIGHT

Caroline drifted back to full awareness a long time later.

She opened her eyes and stared at the night-shadowed ceiling while she mentally assessed her physical condition.

The nausea had disappeared, she noted.

She sat up cautiously and abruptly recalled that Reed had placed her on a bed. A fresh wave of fear choked her so that she could not breathe. What had happened to her while she had been sailing in that gray fog?

Frantic, she scrambled to her feet beside the large bed. An overwhelming sense of relief descended when she felt the familiar weight of her skirts and petticoats fall into place around her legs. She was still fully dressed. Her stockings were neatly gartered and her drawers were fastened, just as they had been when she had left home. That was reassuring.

She forced herself to give the matter close thought, summoning up memories from the eerie twilight world in which she had been drifting. She would know if Reed had assaulted her, she thought. She had not been rendered completely unconscious by the drugged tea, most likely because she had consumed only a few sips. Indeed, she had a hazy recollection of the oddly decorous manner in which Reed had placed her on the bed. He had even taken time to arrange her skirts modestly around her ankles before he had left her in this room.

She turned on her heel, examining the shadowy chamber. She had to get out of here before Reed returned.

She crossed first to the door and tried it in the vain hope that it was not locked. But of course it was.

Faint, muffled sounds of activity came from somewhere far below. Music played in the distance. The reception for Julian Elsworth had begun.

She hurried to the window and saw at once that it had been nailed shut. Through the tiny panes of leaded glass she could see the vast expanse of the empty gardens at the back of the big house. Moonlight reflected off the light fog.

It was a long way down, she noticed, dismayed. The room in which she was trapped was evidently on the top floor of the old mansion.

Shouting for help would be useless. Given the thick walls and the commotion on the ground floor, no one would be able to hear her.

She turned slowly back around to examine the room in detail. There was enough light coming from the moonlit fog to reveal the bed, a wardrobe and a chair. There were no lamps or candles visible in the chamber.

She crossed to the wardrobe and opened it, expecting to find it empty. Shock reverberated through her when she caught sight of the unmistakable sheen of white satin.

She pulled the old-fashioned gown out of the wardrobe and held it up to get a better look at the bodice. Recognition jolted through her.

Sarah Reed's wedding dress.

The long, lacy veil was neatly folded on one of the wardrobe shelves. It was matted with dried blood. She found the black enameled mourning brooch in a drawer together with a pair of white gloves.

Sooner or later Reed would return. She had to come up with a plan. The word that Adam had used once or twice to describe the various twists and turns in his investigation came back to her. He had said something about it being the oldest and most reliable trick in the world.

Distraction.