It did go through my mind that I would have no proof of my suspicions if I left the carriage now, but I wouldn’t be much use trying to testify as a corpse either, and I had seen what Smith and his kind had done to those who stood in their way. I looked out of the window, trying to see where we might be going but it was still raining too hard to recognize in which direction we were heading. The carriage was not rattling too much so we were not going over cobbles. That meant a major thoroughfare—probably one of the avenues. It would be helpful to know where to run if I made it safely to the street. Surely he wouldn’t have the nerve to chase me in broad daylight, especially if I screamed for help?

I would like to have hitched up my skirt as it would be a long jump down from the carriage, but I couldn’t do that without his noticing and I worried about taking the bag of scrapbooks with me. I didn’t want to leave it behind. It might even show a snapshot of Anthony Smith in Germany, but it was definitely going to be an encumbrance when I tried to jump out.

We clipped on for a good while at a steady pace. My brain raced desperately for something to say.

“So what kind of tricks do you like to perform, Mr. Smith?” I asked.

“Me? Only the small stuff—cards, linking rings, that kind of thing.”

“So none of the more impressive tricks that illusionists are doing these days?” I said gaily. At least I was attempting to sound gay and girlish. “Of course they are terribly dangerous, aren’t they? Do you know I was actually in the theater when that poor girl was sliced open with the saw. It was all I could do not to faint.”

“Yes, I heard about that,” he said. “No, I don’t think I’d ever attempt to saw someone in half.”

“And what kind of tricks does Mr. Wilkie like to perform?” I prattled on.

“I really couldn’t say.” He snapped the words out and I realized that he too was feeling the tension now.

“Then I’ll have to insist that he give me a demonstration when we’re together,” I said. “Are we nearly there?”

“Who knows, in this infernal downpour,” he said.

The carriage came abruptly to a halt and I thought I heard the driver shouting a curse. I didn’t wait for a second. My hand turned the door handle and pushed it open. Rain came flying into my face. I grabbed the bag, stood up, and—was just conscious of a swift movement behind me.

Thirty-three