The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele #1)(40)

"Me?" Willie placed her hands on her hips. "Why me? Why can't she?" She nodded at me.

"Miss Steele is coming with me. We've got a lead on Chronos."

Willie's anger immediately dissolved. "Then what are you waiting for? Go!" She shooed us both, but I stood my ground.

"You don't need me," I told Mr. Glass. "Cyclops can find the Aged Christian Society on his own, and you don't need me to talk to Mr. Mirth."

He searched my face, and that small triangular dent at the bridge of his nose appeared again. "I would like the company."

"I'm sure my company's far too dull for someone like you." I turned to Duke. "I'll assist you with Miss Glass's room."

Duke and I headed up the stairs. The front door didn't close until we were on the first floor landing.

Miss Glass's room was situated next to mine. I opened the window to allow some of the crisp afternoon air in and to blow out the stale. Duke opened wardrobe doors to do the same, then we both searched high and low for linen.

"Must be downstairs," he said, giving up.

"I'll get it. I need to stretch my legs."

"Servant door's in the corridor wall opposite."

I found the hidden door easily enough and made my way quickly downstairs. The service area ran the length of the house below street level. The kitchen was the largest room, with a pantry and scullery off it. Signs of the evening meal preparations covered the central table, but the small dining and sitting rooms looked untouched, as did the butler's and housekeeper's offices. I found the linen press, but the sheets were stored at the top. I stepped on a lower shelf, but my weight tipped the entire cupboard forward.

I jumped down and managed to keep the whole thing from toppling on me, but a flat box slid off the very top and crashed to the floor. It missed me by mere inches.

I righted the press and bent to pick up the box. No, not a box, a case with brass clasps that had sprung open. The case's contents spilled onto the floor. I bent to gather up the sheets of paper, but froze.

A picture of a bushy browed man stared back at me, his face a map of scars. He looked about thirty or so, but it was difficult to tell from the picture. The word WANTED in bold, blocky type labeled the fellow an American outlaw. He was worth five hundred dollars, dead or alive. But it wasn't the amount or the face that had my heart stopping. It was the name.

Bill Johnson. Johnson was Willie's name. This man was a member of Mr. Glass's family. According to the poster, Bill Johnson was wanted for robbing a general store.

Each of the twelve sheets of paper was a poster showing different outlaws wanted for crimes committed in various American states and territories. Three bore the name Johnson. One was the Dark Rider, the man from the newspaper article I'd read. The sketch was the same. His face wasn't clearly shown thanks to the beard and hat. According to the poster, he was considered extremely dangerous.

My hands shook as I replaced the papers back in the case. I stood on a chair to return it to the top of the cupboard, then hurried back up the stairs with my arms full of clean linen.

Duke and I finished making up the bedroom, and I joined Miss Glass in the drawing room while he disappeared into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Miss Glass dozed by the window so I sat and read quietly. Or tried to. It wasn't easy with my mind wandering back to those posters of outlaws with their grizzly faces and cold eyes. And then there was the Dark Rider, the man no one had seen properly. His value had been the highest of the lot.

Mr. Glass returned earlier than I expected. When I heard the front door, I sat forward on the chair, my heart in my throat; not from apprehension at seeing him again but because I was eager to find out what he'd learned from Mr. Mirth. That surprised me. I ought to be more afraid of him.

Nobody met him at the door and he came immediately to the drawing room. He glanced at his aunt's sleeping form then at me. I arched my brows and he shook his head. At my frown, he indicated I should follow him back out to the entrance hall. I hesitated then went after him.

Duke and Willie emerged from the rear of the house so I hung back near the staircase. "Well?" Willie asked. "What did Mirth say?"

"He wasn't there," Mr. Glass said heavily.

"Not there?" Duke said. "Where is he?"

"He left a few days ago. He simply walked out of the facility and nobody knows where he went."

"He left!" Willie shouted.

Mr. Glass shushed her with a glance back at the drawing room.

Willie made a rude gesture in the same direction. "He can't just leave. Isn't that the point of that place? The inmates are too old to care for themselves?"

"They're not inmates," Mr. Glass said. "It's a charitable institution for the aged, and there's no obligation for anyone to remain. If the patient feels well enough to leave, or a family member collects them, they can go."

"God damn," Willie muttered. "I hate this country."

"It's hardly England's fault," Mr. Glass told her.

Willie folded her arms and turned away. Her spine curved and she lowered her head.

"Don't you go all teary on me." Mr. Glass rested a hand on her shoulder.

She shook it off then suddenly turned and threw herself into his arms. Fortunately he was strong enough to catch her. If it had been me, I would have landed on my rear beneath her.