Daughter of the God-King(44)

Hattie stood with Bing, her heart hammering in the sudden silence, and before either could speak the door to the room burst open and Berry appeared in his shirt sleeves, his own pistol drawn.

“They both went out the balcony,” Hattie pointed.

Berry went to peer over the balcony into the night as he secured his pistol into his belt. Turning to them he said, “Stay here until I return—do not leave.” Alarmed voices could be heard in the hallway as the two women nodded. It seemed to Hattie that Berry’s gaze lingered on her dishabille just before he leapt over the balcony railing, hanging for a moment on the wrought iron supports before jumping down to the street below. Hattie stepped over to watch his figure disappear around a corner but Bing drew her back with a hand on her arm. “Best we lock these doors, Hathor.”

Once inside, Hattie regarded Bing with approval, the blood still coursing in her veins from all the excitement. “Did you shoot him?”

“No; I merely wanted to frighten him away.”

“You are amazing.” Hattie was all admiration.

“Not at all,” Bing disclaimed. “Are you hurt, Hathor? Come over to the lantern so that we can assess.”

A group of guests were huddled outside their broken door, and Hattie decided she should pull on her robe, although she couldn’t help but be pleased that Berry had been given an opportunity to glimpse her pretty nightdress. A proprietor from the hotel pushed through the guests and approached them with concern. “Ladies,” he said in heavily accented English. “What has happened?”

“An intruder,” said Bing succinctly. “Routed out the balcony.”

Both the hotel proprietor and the crowd expressed their dismay and outrage at such a turn of events, and the door’s broken lock was examined. “I will post a guard,” the man announced. “Rest assured you will be undisturbed the remainder of the night, and tomorrow we will repair the door.”

“Thank you,” said Hattie, and the room eventually cleared, the spectators murmuring among themselves in the manner of people who did not yet wish to relinquish their shock and outrage.

Bing asked, “Is there anything missing, Hathor? Jewelry, perhaps?”

As Hattie owned little jewelry, an inventory took only a moment. “No. Nothing appears to be missing.” How fortunate that she had left the package at the solicitor’s—it seemed beyond coincidental that this raid took place after her meeting with Mr. Bahur, who had made it clear that he was aware she was withholding information—information that he desperately needed. I should share my conclusions with Berry, she thought, although if he hasn’t reached the same conclusions on his own I wash my hands of him.

Perched on the foot of Bing’s bed, she settled in to wait for Berry’s return. “And who was the other gentleman?” asked Bing as though she was only mildly curious.

“I have seen him speaking with Monsieur Berry,” Hattie explained. Not exactly true, but she’d rather not confess to Bing that the man had been monitoring her movements for two days.

After an hour, Berry tapped at the door and the guard allowed him in on Hattie’s nod.

“You are unhurt?” he asked, assessing her with a brief glance.

“Yes.” Little doubt that she would have bruises on her arm tomorrow but, she reflected with satisfaction, the intruder in turn would sport teeth marks so she felt she had won the encounter.

“Is anything missing?” His gaze was on Hattie, intent.

Hattie shook her head and Bing offered with some severity, “I am not certain the motive was robbery; I believe he had fell intent—he was attempting to seize Hathor and force her out the door.”

Berry’s eyes flew to Hattie’s for verification and she could sense his surprise. Whatever the concerns were that had prompted him to post a guard to watch her movements, he had not anticipated abduction.

“Did you catch him?” asked Hattie.

Berry shook his head in chagrin. “He was very elusive.”

Not a straight answer, noted Hattie; naturally. There was no point in asking any further questions—she had gone this route too many times before.

Berry indicated he needed to speak to the authorities and assured the ladies they would be safe if they remained in the room. After they agreed to meet upon the morrow, he took his leave with a last, enigmatic glance at Hattie, which she could not interpret.

Bing surveyed the chamber, her hands on her hips. “I will pull a chair against the door, Hathor, just as a precaution.”

Hattie teased, “He wouldn’t dare try again—he would be shot through.”

Reminded, Bing searched for the bullet and used a hair pick to pry it out of the plaster, where it had lodged. “I hope we will not be charged for the damage.”