“So Göran does speak English? I suppose he thinks glowering at us in Swedish is more intimidating,” I mused. “The Hathaways meant to keep the business quiet. How did Tom Carter come to hear of it?” I asked.
“His sister is one of the few maids left at the Hall. She has rather a soft spot for ‘Master Jonathan’ and decided it was far likelier that we had stolen the diamond than the long-lost heir.”
“Stupid girl,” I said with feeling. “So her indiscretion has caused village gossip to label us the malefactors?”
“It is a plausible enough story if one discounts Harry’s Jonathan Hathaway as a possible villain,” Stoker said evenly.
“It is ludicrous. One cannot be more suspicious than a long-lost heir returning to claim the family name and then disappearing precisely when the most valuable jewel in their collection goes missing. I should like to have a robust discussion with these villagers on the subject of Occam’s razor.”
“To them, the simplest explanation is the likeliest,” he replied. “Strangers come, strangers go, the jewel leaves with them.”
“Harry Spenlove is a stranger,” I pointed out.
“Not to a village accustomed to the Hathaway name. It shields him where we are outsiders—outsiders who actually are in possession of the diamond, so they are not wrong,” he added.
“That is hardly our fault! It was thrust upon us. Did you tell Mrs. MacGregor its whereabouts?”
“I did not,” he said.
“Neither did I, although I admit I was tempted,” I told him. “We need not be enduring a moment of this.”
“Well, from my perspective, it’s quite the nicest abduction we have ever had,” he remarked.
A hot rush of rage fired my veins. “I have no doubt. You have been wined, dined, and caressed whilst I have been here, worried beyond belief that that woman was going to let her pet Swede twist your limbs into something resembling an Alpenwalder pretzel. Next time, I shan’t bother.”
“Next time?” He choked a little, and if we had not been confined in possibly mortal peril, I might have suspected him of laughing.
“Well, if you refuse to tell them, perhaps I should,” I suggested.
He sobered instantly. “Do not even think of it. I am warning you, Veronica.”
“Warning me. Warning me?” My voice rose to a register I do not usually employ, but before I could continue, a curious scratching sound captured my attention.
“What is that?”
“It was you, shrieking like an overexcited tamarin monkey,” Stoker said.
“I do not shriek,” I told him with considerable froideur. “And this was a scraping noise. There it is again.”
I pointed upwards and he cocked an ear, nodding as the sound came again, a rasp like a chain being pulled through a handle. Then came a creak and the coal doors were eased open. After a moment, Harry Spenlove’s grinning face appeared.
“Hallo? Ready for a rescue?”
CHAPTER
26
With a snap, a rope dropped into the room, uncoiling as it fell. One end had been secured outside the coal door and the other fell just short of the stone floor. Down Harry climbed, not as gracefully as Stoker would have done it, but silently and with a certain athletic vigor he often took pains to hide.
“Harry,” I muttered as he leapt lightly off the end of the rope and came to me. “What fortuitous timing. You might have come before your inamorata broke two of my ribs.”
“I thought she would never leave,” he whispered. “I could not exactly make my presence known.”
He came near and bent to the shackle at my foot.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
He rolled his eyes heavenwards. “This is a rescue, you daft woman. I should have thought that was perfectly obvious.”
“You are not the first person I would have chosen to play the role of hero,” I pointed out. “You have always fled at the first inkling of danger.”
“I am here now,” he said, looking a little put out. He brightened. “I say, I have always wanted to play the hero! Isn’t this fun?”
“Rather less for us,” I pointed out.
“No doubt,” he replied, looking instantly abashed. “But I did remarkably well under the circumstances. You see, I was just leaving the Sudbury barber shop when I saw the pair of you get into the carriage. I was about to hail you when I recognized Göran.” He paused to shudder. “I knew at once what was happening and I realized I was your only hope of liberation. So I hailed the next hansom and was hot as any hound upon your trail.”
Stoker held up his cuffed wrists. “And an excellent job it was, but do you think you might unlock us now? Your friends may return any minute, and it would be advisable for us to put some distance between us before that happens.”
“I do not suppose you thought to bring a hacksaw?” I asked.
Harry dipped two fingers into his pocket and lifted out a key with the air of a professional conjurer. “How you do like to underestimate me, Veronica.” He fitted the key to the lock and the cuff sprang free. He grinned. “I am an exceptionally resourceful man.”
I was too fatigued and famished even to care how he had come into possession of the key. He repeated the process on the rest of the cuffs and I moved my limbs cautiously, stretching life back into them as he turned to Stoker’s shackles.
There was a sudden snap and Harry swore, something loud and profane and thoroughly Anglo-Saxon.
“What is it?” I demanded, coming near to look.
“It seems Mr. Spenlove has broken the key off in the lock,” Stoker said dryly.
“Rotten luck,” Harry told him, peering into the keyhole.
“Harry,” I began in a warning tone.
He backed away, hands held up as if to ward me off. “Veronica, it is not my fault.”
“So we are just as abducted as we were before your arrival,” I said.
“That is wounding, Veronica. It really is. I have done my best, and I needn’t have bothered, you know. I could have gone to the Belvedere and spent these hours searching for the diamond and left you to your fate. But I didn’t. I came here to free you.”
I opened my mouth to blast him, but it occurred to me he was entirely correct. Mrs. MacGregor and her erstwhile companion were far angrier with Harry than they were with either of us, and we had endured considerable discomfort at their hands. Heaven only knew what they might do if they realized Harry was within their grasp.