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Back Cardinal Black Save as PDF
Chapters (44)
  1. Title Page
  2. One: Into the Storm
  3. One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Two: London Calling
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Three: The Malignant Seven
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Four: Squirrels and Cats
  29. Twenty-Four
  30. Twenty-Five
  31. Twenty-Six
  32. Twenty-Seven
  33. Twenty-Eight
  34. Twenty-Nine
  35. Thirty
  36. Thirty-One
  37. Thirty-Two
  38. Five: Revelation
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. About the Author

Matthew had to turn away. He had witnessed violent death before, of course, and had looked such in the face many times, but cold-blooded murder was something else. Even his execution of Count Dahlgren had not been exactly murder—or so he wished to believe—because his cutting of a rope during a storm at sea was not necessarily the man’s death sentence, though it was hard to fathom that Dahlgren did not go down seven leagues to eternity. And Matthew would have even spared the life of Tyranthus Slaughter, if he’d had the choice … but this … this sickened him and sent a shudder up his bruised back as he heard the hideous noise of a windpipe being crushed and the heels of violet-colored slippers weakly beating the floorboards.

It seemed to go on a long time.

“This bastard,” said Julian between gritted teeth, “will not die. Fuck if I’m—” He paused to give another fierce pull of the wire’s ends. “Fuck if I’m not going to pass out myself,” he finished.

At last, as Matthew stared down at the floor, there was a rattling sound, the slippers ceased their drumbeat of death and Julian said wearily, “That one nearly finished me.” When he stood up, he staggered and steadied himself against the wall. He caught Matthew regarding him with a measure of repugnance, and his mouth smiled grimly below the red-rimmed eyes. “It had to be done,” he said. “You know that as well as I. But if it makes any difference to you in your opinion of me—which I care not—I’ll start anew and afresh tomorrow.”

But tomorrow might never come, for there came the pounding of a fist on the door and a voice calling, “Hello? Hello? What’s going on in there?”

Twelve

Twelve

An index finger, somewhat red and swollen from its long acquaintance with the wire, flew to Julian’s lips.

“This is the night manager!” called the man behind the door. “Open this instant, if you please!”

“Stand out of sight,” Julian said to Matthew. He called, “Coming, sir!” and as he walked to answer the knock he blotted his face with his sleeve and smoothed his hair. He unlatched the door and cracked it open to a florid-faced, heavy-set man in a gray suit and a dark blue cravat beneath his three chins. Behind him, almost hidden by the night manager’s bulk, was the young boy who’d brought the hot water to room twenty-six.

“What is going on in there?” the man asked. His furry eyebrows jumped up and down. “We have had a complaint from the next room and our lobby chandelier is swinging on its moorings!”