Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(101)

“Good Lord!” Sephora exclaimed. “How old is she?”

“Just sixteen, ma’am, though she claims to be older. She’d said she’d got herself a position. I didn’t know it was at that bastard’s house, or I’d’ve never let her go near him.”

The chief inspector cocked his head. “Did you kill Hugo Effington?”

“No, I didn’t get the chance. I woulda, though, and been quite proud of the job.”

Wescomb thumbed through the papers. “Very complete.” He looked up, scanning the faces around the room. “It might be enough, along with Mr…O’Donnell’s testimony.”



“God, I hope so,” Alastair murmured.

Makes two of us.

The clock began to chime. When it reached nine, Flaherty straightened up. “Is it a deal?”

“I do not like this precedent,” Fisher complained, shaking his head. “Nevertheless, it’s the best we have. If it saves Keats’ life, I will live with it.” He looked over at Flaherty. “Your man must remain here. I will personally see to his safety.”

“It wouldn’t be right to punish him for my sins,” Flaherty protested. “It was me who told him to take the rozzer out of Whitechapel. I thought if I bought myself some time, I’d find Fiona, set it all right.”

“I will do what I can when it comes to Mr. O’Donnell’s defence,” Wescomb pledged.

Cynda kept her smile to herself. The big Irishman had just scored a peer of the realm as his barrister. The gesture wasn’t lost on Flaherty. He gave Cynda a pleased look and then an approving nod.

“That’s all right, then.”

Wescomb rose, the papers in his hand. “As far as I am concerned, you brought these papers to us to right a wrong, not because of your daughter. It will not play well with the jury if they feel you are to receive some reward for your testimony.”

Both Fenians nodded. “I didn’t take no brass for this,” Paddy added, “and I won’t have no one say I did.”

Wescomb smiled. “Over here, gents; let’s get these signed.”

As Flaherty approached the peer’s desk, he tossed the dynamite to a startled Brown. “Hold this. I’ll want it back, ya understand?”

Cynda rolled her eyes.

“Sign or make your mark, sir,” Wescomb said, handing Flaherty a pen.

The Fenian bent over and scrawled his name at the bottom of the document.

While Paddy placed an “X” on his statement, Sephora made her way toward Cynda. Her face was pale, her eyes sharp. Cynda braced herself.



“I see Alastair’s report of your recovery has not been exaggerated,” Sephora whispered. “While I am pleased by that, what in heaven’s name kept this man from killing all of us if this had gone ill?”

Cynda tapped her pocket. “This pistol. I was behind him the entire time.”

“You would have shot him in the back?” her ladyship asked, incredulous.

“Yes, if it came to that.”

Sephora’s sharp gaze softened. “It was an incredible gamble.”

“No, it was insanity. Gambling is less risky.”

With a nod, the woman swept away. Cynda suspected it would be awhile before she was welcomed here again.

Alastair joined her a moment later. “You are…” he shook his head in dismay.

“I thought it’d only be Wescomb tonight. I had hoped Sephora would be upstairs or at one of her meetings. I had no idea the rest of you were here.”

“It still might not work.”

“It has to.”

After a moment’s reflection, he asked, “Would you do such an outrageous thing for me?”

“Hell, yes.”

He gently touched her cheek. “That pleases me to hear it.”

She leaned closer to ask a question. His eyes widened, and then he shook his head.

“Good,” she replied. “That might make it easier.”

“There is no guarantee that he wasn’t one of Nicci’s paramours. He might not have left his card behind.”

“It’s just a chance I’m going to have to take.”

“Miss Lassiter?” It was the chief inspector. Alastair stepped aside.

“You are extremely fit for someone who was unable to testify only a few days ago,” the policeman observed. “Another remarkable recovery on your part.”



“I assure you, Chief Inspector, I was truly incapacitated.”

“Perhaps.” He half turned to watch his lordship talking to the two Fenians. When he looked back, he barely succeeded in keeping his composure. “I don’t know how you did that, but I owe you for it.”

“Don’t let them hang Keats. That’s all I ask.”

“That might be more difficult than you think.”

Desmond Flaherty exited the house via the servant’s entrance and melted into the darkness, Cynda at his side. “Glad I didn’t have to use the dynamite. Woulda made a helluva mess.”

“You wouldn’t have had the chance.”

“The pistol in yer pocket?” he asked, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“You knew?”

“Of course. Ya let go of the other one too easy-like.”