The Wrong Girl(38)

"Indeed? What about your family?"

"I'm not in contact with them at the moment. When I see them again I'll ask."

"A good idea."

"You say Dr. Werner doesn't believe in this kind of blockage, as put there by a hypnotist. That means you must have discussed it with him at some point."

"I have, but he tried to replicate it and it didn't work. When I suggested that only natural hypnotists could do it, he scoffed and said there were no such people."

"How odd."

"Very. I don't know of others, you see, and have heard of none. You don't know what it's like to be the only one who suffers from something."

How wrong he was.

"You're the first person I've mentioned my ability to," he said. "I have to say, it's such a relief that you're not laughing at me, or have run screaming in the other direction."

"I wouldn't do that. I may need you if I fall asleep out here."

We hurried after Jack, getting further and further into the depths of London's web of alleys. "I'm beginning to think we ought to turn back," Samuel said. "This part of London isn't safe, particularly after dark."

We had indeed walked into an even grimier part of the city. The cobbled streets were covered in some sort of slippery sludge. I had to hold onto Samuel's arm or I'd slip over. A sickly smell mingled with the fog that hung in the air. Dirty children's faces peered out of windows at us, their eyes sunken, their hair matted. Men and women sat or lay on the filthy ground, their hands buried in their too-thin clothes, their feet and heads bare, despite winter being in the air. One or two clutched my hem as I passed, begging for food, and Samuel quickly obliged with a few coins until he had no more to give.

I clung to his arm and slowed. "You're right. We should go back."

Just as I said it, Jack stopped to talk to a boy shivering in a recessed doorway. He nodded, and the lad disappeared inside, only to return a moment later with a tall man. A man with a big, crooked nose and a scar over one eye. He clamped Jack on the shoulder and Jack nodded a greeting. The thin lad scampered back inside and shut the door.

I looked around for closer hiding places and spotted an arched bridge nearby. If we stood beneath it, we would be able to hear their conversation. "Keep your head down and stay close to the walls where it's darker," I said to Samuel.

"What if he sees us?"

"He won't harm us, if that's your concern. I am quite sure of that."

"He won't harm you. I doubt any feelings of mercy will extend to me."

"Are you afraid of him?"

"No, I just don't want to have to fight him. I put those days behind me when I started at University College."

"You were a fighter?"

"I got into scrapes regularly and found the need to defend myself." He put a hand to his hat to shield his face. It didn't matter because Jack was too intent on his conversation to notice us. We tucked ourselves into the shadows of the archway and strained to hear.

"I confess," said Jack's companion. "It were me that done it. You goin' to drag me off to the rozzers then?" He sounded amused, cock-sure.

"I should. Or better yet, I'll take you home with me. August Langley will have a fitting punishment in mind."

"Stop speakin' like a toff." The man, Patrick I assumed, wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "You ain't one of 'em. Never will be. Think you're all 'igh and mighty livin' in the big 'ouse while we starve down 'ere in this rat-pit." He hawked and spat on the ground at Jack's feet.

Jack didn't move, but his shoulders stiffened slightly, and his hands closed into fists at his sides. "What did you take from his rooms?"

"I dunno, do I. Just some papers. I was told where to find 'em and find 'em I did."

"Papers about what?"

"That some kind of joke? You know I can't read."

Jack tipped his head back, sighed. "Who are you working for?"

"I can't tell you that now, Jack-o'-Lantern. Ain't none o' your business no more."

"It is my business. I live there."

Patrick snorted a harsh laugh. "And what right 'ave you got to live there? Eh? You fink that man's yer uncle? Because I ain't so sure you're any more a Langley than me."

Jack shoved Patrick in the chest, slamming him back against the door with such force that I heard a crack of wood. Beside me, Samuel bristled and his hand took mine, reassuring me that he would not let anything happen to me. I appreciated the gesture, although I wasn't scared. Jack's anger was directed at Patrick and the man looked terrified. He held up his hands in surrender.

"S-sorry, Jack, I meant no 'arm."

"Who you been sayin' that to?" Jack's voice was a low growl, just audible through the invading fog. "You don't know me no more," he went on. "Got that, Patrick? Now, tell me 'oo paid you to take them papers from Langley."