ThePerfectPoison
FORTY-FOUR
“THAXTER WAS INSANE AT THE END BUT ODDLY LUCID,” Caleb said. “He was the leader of the Seventh Circle of Power. As was the case with the Third, there is no obvious link to the other Circles or to those at the top of the Cabal.”
He and Gabe were in his library-laboratory. He was attempting to provide his cousin with a full report of what had transpired, but a growing sense of unease was gnawing at him. It was not just the restless sensation that always came over him when he knew he was overlooking some vital piece of a puzzle. This was something else, something connected to Lucinda.
“We must assume that we did not find all of Stilwell’s notes and papers,” Gabe said. “There are obviously other copies of that formula floating around. That is very likely how the members of the Cabal obtained the recipe.”
“The genie is out of the bottle, Gabe.”
“Yes.” Gabe folded his arms. “Hulsey deliberately altered the drug in such a way as to kill both Norcross and Thaxter in order to avenge the death of Mrs. Daykin?”
“She was his longtime lover, business partner and the mother of his son. He discovered that the Seventh Circle had arranged for Norcross to murder her. One can understand his desire for revenge.”
“You’re still uncertain about how many members there were in Thaxter’s Circle?”
“According to the jeweler’s records, three snuffboxes were ordered. The first two were commissioned about six months ago. The third was purchased a month later. Evidently Thaxter gave them out to the members of his Circle.”
“Three snuffboxes means that there were three members in the Seventh Circle,” Gabe said patiently.
“Thus far, only two snuffboxes are accounted for. Norcross’s and Thaxter’s.”
“Hulsey must have the third one. When we track him down we will find it.”
The need to go to Lucinda was growing ever stronger. “I’m ninety-seven percent sure that Hulsey doesn’t have the third snuffbox,” he said. Calm yourself. She is safe at home.
“What makes you believe that?”
“Thaxter did not consider Hulsey a social equal. As far as he was concerned, Basil Hulsey was merely skilled labor. He claimed that the Order of the Emerald Tablet only accepted members from what he considered a proper social background.”
“In other words, Thaxter would have been willing to employ a man like Hulsey for his talents but he wouldn’t have invited him into the Circle?”
“To him it would have been like inviting his gardener or his coachman to join his club. I certainly can’t see him giving Hulsey an expensive gold snuffbox that, to his way of thinking, had been designed for a gentleman.”
“Perhaps Hulsey insisted on being treated as an equal in the Circle and demanded a snuffbox of his own as part of his fee,” Gabe offered.
“From what I have learned of his nature, I don’t think Hulsey gives a damn about social status. All he cares about is his research. There is something else that bothers me, as well. The third snuffbox was ordered five months ago. Hulsey was not involved in the Seventh Circle at that time.”
“If you’re right, then there is a third member of the Circle still unaccounted for.”
“And another unsolved theft of a plant.” Caleb looked at the paper he had put on the workbench. “There has to be a connection to Bromley’s last expedition to the Amazon.”
“What have you got there?”
“Lucinda’s list of names of the botanists who viewed the specimens from the last expedition immediately after the Bromleys and Woodhall returned from the Amazon.”
“What are you looking for?”
“The person who stole the first plant eighteen months ago. Do you have any notion how much effort is required just to discover whether or not a certain individual happened to be in London on a certain date a year and a half ago?”
“Sounds difficult,” Gabe allowed.
“It’s more than difficult. It’s damn near impossible. I’m going to need more assistance, Gabe. And more money.”
“Just to find the other plant thief ?”
“Not just for that, for the agency. The regular clients pay for their investigations, but trying to chase down the rest of the Circles in the Order and identify the Cabal leaders will require a number of consultants. Consultants, it turns out, are expensive.”
“I thought we agreed on a budget for the Jones agency.”
“It will have to be increased.”
A knock on the door interrupted him.
“Yes, Mrs. Perkins, what is it?” he called.
The housekeeper opened the door. “Inspector Spellar is here, sir.”
“Send him up immediately.”
“He’s already here, sir.” Mrs. Perkins drew herself up. “You will recall that I have given notice, Mr. Jones. I will be leaving your employ at the end of the week.”
“Yes, yes, Mrs. Perkins,” Caleb muttered. “You did mention it.”
“I’ll be expecting my wages then, sir.”
“Never fear, Mrs. Perkins, you’ll get your money.”
“Mr. Jones.” Spellar strolled into the room. He was munching on a pastry. He looked first at Gabe and then at Caleb. “And Mr. Jones. Good day to you both. As you can see, Mrs. Perkins very kindly gave me a bite to eat.”
“What news, Spellar?” Caleb asked.
Spellar swallowed the last of the pastry and brushed the crumbs from his hands. “Thought you might be interested to know that I finally discovered Allister Norcross’s address. Tracked him down through his tailor.”
“The tailor remembered him?” Gabe asked.
“Tailors always remember their expensive customers,” Spellar said. “This one informed me that he sent Norcross’s bill to Number Fourteen Ransley Square.”
Caleb frowned. “That is a neighborhood of large houses, not a street where a single man would rent lodgings.”
“Norcross was staying at the home of his uncle, who evidently is quite ill. I stopped by on my way here to make inquiries but I was told that the owner of the house was too ill to receive callers.” Spellar smiled. “It occurred to me that perhaps it might be easier for a Jones to get past the front door.”
Caleb looked at the list of names and addresses. The last passages of the maze were suddenly illuminated.
“Ransley Square,” he said. “The bastard is supposed to be dying. If he took Hulsey’s last version of the formula, that is probably exactly what he is doing.”
He had told Lucinda that he could not always understand why people acted the way they did but some motives he comprehended very well, indeed. Vengeance was one of them. And that was all that was left for a man in Ellerbeck’s situation.
He was on his feet and heading for the door without thinking about it, relying entirely on his intuition.
“Out of my way, Spellar,” he said.
“Where are you going?” Gabe called after him.
“Ransley Square. Lucinda is there.”
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