The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele #1)(77)

The bobbies dragged Dorchester out of the doorway. He groaned and stirred. I breathed a sigh of relief and edged closer, taking a wide berth around him until I was at the opening of the doorway. My watch glinted in the shadows. I bent and scooped it up. It not longer felt warm, but like an ordinary silver watch.

"What you got there, miss?" the inspector asked.

"My watch." I showed it to him. "I dropped it in the scuffle."

He nodded, satisfied. "How'd you overpower him?" he asked as the two constables lifted the dazed Dorchester between them.

"I…I suppose it was a combination of luck and timing." I dropped my watch back in the reticule. "Excellent timing."

"So what's this about him being the Dark Rider?"

"It's a long story, and I must speak with your commissioner about it immediately. Is he in his office?"

"The commissioner's busy, miss."

"I don't care!" Good lord, the man was more inaccessible than the queen. "I have vital information about the Dark Rider to give him, and only him. Take me to him now. Please," I added, more demurely.

He eyed me then the retreating backs of his constables carrying Dorchester. "You can tell me all about how you came to know that man is the Dark Rider while we walk up to the commissioner's office."

I was so thankful, I clasped his hand. "Come on then!"

I gave him my name and Matt's address as we walked, but told him I wanted to save the details about the Dark Rider for the commissioner's ears.

It was dark inside the building, and the inspector commanded one of the constables on duty to hand him a lamp. It threw out enough light for us to see our way through the corridors of New Scotland Yard. The smell of fresh paint followed us. The brass doorknobs and hooks for coats gleamed in the lamplight. Unlike Vine Street Police Station, the windows were not covered by bars. I wondered where they'd taken Dorchester and if he had recovered.

We entered an office on the second floor with furniture polished to a sheen and a portrait of the queen on the wall. It was empty, but appeared to be only an outer office that led to another. The inspector knocked, and I was relieved to hear a gruff voice order us to enter. The commissioner had not yet gone home.

Commissioner Munro was a distinguished looking gentleman with white hair on the sides of his head and gray on top. His white moustache curled at the ends. He wore a uniform with impressively decorated epaulettes, and a cap hung on a hook beside another portrait of the queen. Shrewd eyes watched me, but with curiosity, not unkindness.

He rose and we shook hands. The inspector made the introductions and gave him a brief account of our meeting. The commissioner invited me to sit and directed the inspector to make me some tea.

"No, thank you," I said. "Tea isn't necessary." Anything that delayed the commissioner getting Matt out of jail wasn't necessary.

"Miss Steele, why are you certain this fellow who attacked you is the Dark Rider?" the commissioner asked. "Perhaps he's simply an opportunist who saw a young woman walking alone at dusk."

"Directly outside New Scotland Yard? It would take a brazen attacker to be so bold. No, Commissioner, he's the Dark Rider and admitted as much to me."

He leaned back. The leather of his chair creaked. He rested his elbows on the chair arms and steepled his fingers. "The Dark Rider has already been caught. He's currently being held at—"

"Vine Street Police Station. Yes, yes, I know all of that. But that man isn't the Dark Rider."

Snowy eyebrows inched up his forehead. "You're doubting my very experienced inspector?"

"Inspector Nunce may be experienced but he's a fool. He arrested the wrong man. I believe you know him, sir, and you can vouch for his innocence." I hoped I had that correct, and Matt's asking for the commissioner was an indication that this man could be trusted. Based on what Dorchester had told me, I was no longer sure who or what Matt was, but I did know he wasn't the Dark Rider. I also knew that he hoped the commissioner could help him. That was enough for me, for now.

"I am intrigued," he said. "Who is it?"

"Mr. Matthew Glass."

The commissioner lowered his hands. "Thank you, Toohey, that will be all."

The inspector, who'd remained standing behind me, left, shutting the door on his way out.

"I require the entire story," the commissioner said in a calm voice edged with steel. "Now."

I explained everything, where I had an explanation. I brushed over the use of my watch to escape from Dorchester and didn't speculate on how Matt might know the commissioner when he'd been in London only a week.

The commissioner rose from his seat before I finished. He plucked his hat off the hook and placed it under his arm. "It seems I have to visit Vine Street before I head home. Hopefully Mrs. Munro won't be too upset at my tardiness tonight."

He stopped in a downstairs office to speak with Inspector Toohey about keeping Dorchester well locked up, then commanded one of the constables to bring his carriage around. As we waited, Big Ben struck the hour. Its deep resonant gong thrummed through me. I breathed deeply, drawing the air into my lungs with what felt like my first proper breath since Dorchester's attack.

It was a short ride back to Vine Street, in which the commissioner questioned me about my connections, my background, and finally, he asked for specifics on how I'd escaped from Dorchester.