“I hope so,” I told him.
“Do you mean that?” He cocked his head, his eyes bright.
“Almost.”
“Progress then,” he said in a more cheerful tone. “And now, look lively, love. We have arrived.”
CHAPTER
28
We alighted at the station to find the place entirely deserted. The dozing clerk had closed his window for the night and drawn the shade. No one else got off the train and we were not followed as we struck out once more across the fields. I had brought a packet of vestas, but there was no need. The full moon still hung low in the sky, a trifle less brilliant than in Devon but illumination enough to guide our way. The windows of the villa were dark, and as we drew near, I gripped Harry’s hand.
“If they have gone—” I began, scarcely daring to give voice to the possibility that they might have taken Stoker away.
“They won’t have gone,” Harry promised. “Isabel wants that diamond far too much, I am certain of it. There is black cloth tacked over the windows to prevent light from showing through. See there? That is the room Isabel has fitted as a sort of boudoir for herself. You can just make out the glow of light around the edges of the cloth. Now, be quiet,” he urged, guiding me towards the coal cellar doors. They had been left open when we made our escape, but they were closed now, the rope knotted clumsily through the handles.
“Ha!” He turned to me with an air of triumph. “I tossed the lock into the shrubbery and that oaf Göran has not found it. He could do no better than the rope, and we shall make quick work of it,” he promised. He bent to the knots and mastered them in short order, securing one end whilst I eased one of the doors back a fraction. A warm bar of lamplight fell upon my face. A single lamp hung in the cellar, just enough light to see the dark form at the base of the column.
The rush of emotion I felt at seeing Stoker once more was indescribable. I had to restrain myself from hurtling through the doors like a force of nature. Instead, I opened them carefully, taking the rope from Harry and playing it out silently through the opening so that it fell without a whisper of sound. As the rope wavered in front of him, Stoker lifted his head. A gash on his forehead had bled furiously, and one of his eyes was swollen shut.
But through the blood and bruises, he smiled, and I found myself grinning broadly as I swung out onto the rope. A lash of pain seared my ribs and I almost fell until Harry grabbed hold of me, wrapping his body around mine and grasping the rope.
“Move with me,” he ordered. “Right foot down to the next knot. Just like that, I have you. I won’t let you fall. Now the left.” Harry was slighter of build than Stoker, and his arms trembled with the effort, but he held me firm and helped me to the bottom. I dropped the last two feet, landing with a painful jar. I dropped to my knees at Stoker’s side.
“Thank heaven,” he said lightly, “the cavalry has come.”
I surveyed his face. “It could be worse,” I murmured.
“Believe me, it is,” he said, lifting his shirt. A network of shallow cuts crisscrossed his torso. Some of the blood had dried; some flowed freely.
“I will take her apart,” I said to no one in particular. “Slowly.”
“I would not advise that,” Harry said.
Something in his voice warned me before I turned. He stood next to the door, smiling grimly. And in one hand he held a revolver pointed at my head.
“Sit down, Veronica. This will not take long.” He knocked sharply upon the door, and it opened instantly. Isabel MacGregor entered, dressed once more in her traveling costume. The dour Göran waited behind her, blocking the door.
“You unmitigated bastard,” I said to Harry.
“There is no call to be rude,” he said in an injured tone.
I launched into a tirade that included quite a few choice words I had most definitely not learnt at the vicar’s knee.
“She has quite a colorful vocabulary,” Mrs. MacGregor said to Harry.
“And a tongue sharp enough to cut glass,” he agreed. “It diminishes her attractiveness, I’ve always thought. But I suppose we might excuse her this once. She does, after all, have considerable provocation. I did just betray her. Again.”
“And planned your act of heroics with Mrs. MacGregor’s cooperation?” Stoker guessed. “I imagine you broke the key on purpose in order to deliberately leave me here, guessing that Veronica would want to bargain for my life with the diamond.”
“Well, she certainly wouldn’t have bargained for mine,” Harry pointed out. “And I would very much like my neck out of the noose. Besides, I knew if Isabel and I had a chance to talk, she would realize that I was playing fair with her. I always intended she should have the diamond, and it was not my fault someone else took the bloody thing. But now I have got it for her, and we can be friends again,” he finished with a fond look at his conspirator.
“So, I guess bygones will be bygones?” I inquired.
“Something like that,” Isabel MacGregor said.
“If this was all a plot between you, then why torture Stoker whilst we were gone?” I demanded.
Isabel MacGregor’s smile was mirthless. “I bore easily and you took such a long time.” She turned to Harry. “Do you have it?”
“She does,” Harry said with a jerk of the chin towards me.
Isabel smiled. “Excellent.” She came near and put out her hand. “My diamond, please.”
I reached into my pocket, but what I pulled out was no diamond. It was a knife, thin and beautifully sharp. I had only one chance to strike, but Isabel MacGregor, perhaps with a caution born of long experience, dodged as my hand came up. She feinted to the side and my blade grazed her cheekbone but bit no further. Instantly she turned, backhanding me with a resounding crack. With a roar, I lowered my shoulder and rushed into her, driving the air from her lungs as I forced her to the ground. I had just wrapped my hands in her hair and lifted her head, preparing to dash it against the stone floor, when I was yanked into the air, my feet flailing. The unlovely Göran had come to her defense, plucking me off her as easily as a bit of thistledown. He shook me, like a dog will shake a rat, and dropped me hard, the impact setting my ears to ringing. He put out a hand to help Isabel to her feet. A thin line of scarlet raked one cheek, and she touched it, smiling.
“Wanted a bit of your own back, did you?” she asked. She bent near and slapped me hard, twice, making certain her ring bit. I snapped my teeth at her the second time and she stepped back sharply as I tasted blood.
“Harry, deal with her.” She took the revolver from him and he smiled at her.
“Very well, my dear. But first I think we ought to draw her claws,” he said, moving for one of the loathsome iron cuffs.