The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele #1)(78)

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I truly don't. One moment his knife was here," I touched the small cut above my collar, "and the next he was on the ground, convulsing."

"Epilepsy," he said with certainty.

I tucked my reticule closer to my body and pressed its soft sides until I felt the familiar shape of the watch. The familiar, comforting shape. That watch had saved me; I was certain of it. It had tried to warn me that Dorchester was near, with its strange chimes, but I'd not listened. Then it had leapt from my hand to his and emitted some kind of electrical current into him.

But how could that be? What logical explanation was there for a watch to act and think on its own? It was ludicrous. I must have been losing my mind to even consider it. Yet there I was, considering it very seriously. If it had been just my watch, and just this one incident, I would have been a little more skeptical, but it wasn't the first time. The clock on the mantel at the gambling house had also saved my life. My aim wasn't that good.

Perhaps all watches were magical and I'd never been in a dangerous situation to witness their power. But that didn't explain why people were murdered all the time when they carried watches on them, or were killed in the presence of clocks. The clock beneath Big Ben's belfry hadn't thrown itself upon my attacker, either. I smiled at the absurdity of it but it quickly vanished. I'd handled both the clock in the gambling house and the watch in my reticule. I'd opened them up and touched their mechanisms.

I was the key that set their magic in motion.

My fingers tightened around my reticule. The commissioner said something, and I had to ask him to repeat it. It wasn't until a constable opened the carriage door that I realized we'd arrived at Vine Street Police Station.

Policemen gasped when they saw the commissioner then saluted with a click of their heels. The police station was quieter, and Constable Stanley stood at the front counter instead of his gruffer colleague. He smiled upon seeing me, only for it to dissolve into open-mouthed surprise when he realized who accompanied me.

"This way, sir," he said, when Munro asked to see Matt. Not Detective Inspector Nunce, but Matt himself.

I followed, only to be ordered to remain behind by the commissioner. I considered arguing with him then decided to sit and wait. There were probably things he and Matt needed to discuss alone before Munro ordered his release.

If he ordered his release.

If he did not, then my attempts had been for nought. There was nothing more I could do.

It felt like an age before the door opened again, but according to the clock on the wall, only ten minutes had passed. Willie emerged. She caught sight of me and smiled. I grinned back, relief flooding me. I felt giddy with it.

Duke followed her, then Cyclops, then finally Matt and the commissioner. Our gazes briefly connected before an enthusiastic Willie embraced me, almost knocking me off my feet. She clasped me tightly, laughing.

"I knew you would rescue us!" she cried, giving me a gentle punch on the arm before letting me go.

"Liar," Duke said before he elbowed her out of the way so he could hug me too. "I knew you'd rescue us. Never had a doubt."

"Nor me," Cyclops said, folding me into his side and kissing the top of my head. "I see you brought him the watch too," he whispered, nodding at Matt. "Seems we need to thank you twice over."

They had to sign some paperwork before they were fully released, but it didn't take long before Willie, Matt, Munro and I climbed into the commissioner's waiting carriage, while Cyclops joined the driver and Duke stood on the footman's platform at the back.

Willie, sitting beside me, took my hand. She alternated between smiling at me and turning grim. I suspected there were things she wanted to say to me. Things that she felt awkward expressing. I squeezed her hand to let her know I forgave her.

I looked at Matt, drinking in his appearance, checking every inch of his face. He seemed tired still, but not exhausted or ill, thank goodness. He smiled and his hand fluttered to his pocket where he'd slipped his watch.

"Commissioner," he began, "I have to disagree with you."

I arched my brows. Clearly this was the continuation of an earlier conversation I'd not been privy to.

"It's unwise," the commissioner said, glancing at me. "The fewer people who know, the safer you are."

"Miss Steele is the soul of discretion. She won't tell anyone. I think she's proven herself worthy, don't you?"

The commissioner's lips flattened. I decided to make it a little easier for him. "Is this about you working for the American law enforcement to help them capture outlaws?"

All three of them stared at me. "Dorchester told me a little," I admitted.

Matt sucked in a breath. He stared at me, his body rigid. "What did he say?"

That you murdered your own grandfather. I looked away, no longer able to face him. It took a certain type of man to kill, and quite another to kill his own family.

"Do not believe everything that man told you, Miss Steele," Munro said. "Including his name. Scotland Yard will wire America for more information and send a sketch of that fellow we arrested for attacking you."

"Attacking you!" Matt bellowed.

Munro waved his hand. "She's perfectly all right, as you can see."

Matt couldn't sit still for the rest of the journey to Park Street. His fingers tapped his knee, the wall, the door handle, the seat. No one else seemed to notice except me.