Page 133 of When We Touch

His quarry had apparently heard him, and stopped.

For a moment, he remained still against the fencing, waiting, listening. No sound of footsteps. Indeed, he’d been betrayed by an alley cat.

Still, he forced himself to wait. At last, he heard a furtive movement. But he was certain his quarry knew that he was on the other side of the fence.

Indeed, the man knew. He burst out into the night suddenly, a walking stick with a wicked blade at the end of it poised for the fight. Jamie burst into motion, knotting his muscles, racing forward, catching the man in his midriff with a violent tackle.

They both went down into the mud of the street. Jamie had the edge, and was able to sink a knee into his opponent’s middle. The man caught his jaw with a solid punch, and he nearly staggered from his position. He gained his balance and prepared to strike.

“Jamie!”

He hesitated, peering against the poor light, staring down.

“Justin!”

“What in God’s name are you doing, man?” Justin demanded. There was suspicion in his voice.

“What are you doing?”

“Stalking the Ripper,” Justin said.

Jamie rose, dusting the mud of the road from his clothing. He reached out a hand to Justin, helping the fellow leap to his feet.

And for a moment, rumor, talk, fear made them both stare at one another. Anyone might have been the Ripper. A rich man, a poor man, uneducated, well tutored, they just didn’t know right now. The killings might be part of a conspiracy; they might be perpetuated by a fellow capable of walking the streets as an ordinary citizen by day . . .

“It’s a strange place for you, Justin,” Jamie said.

“And stranger for you, Lord Langdon.”

“I’ve been asked to look into this matter,” Jamie said.

Justin studied him, then shook his head. “And I came down because I’ve been made to realize recently that I’ve not led a very useful life. And sadly, I am familiar with these streets, because some of the company I keep is fond of the most tawdry amusements.”

The sound of a carriage crashing along the street at a dangerous speed, caused them to leave off their focus on one another, and stare in the direction of the sound. “Out of the way, or we’re both dead men!” Jamie warned, shoving Justin.

But Justin stood in the street, staring at the approaching vehicle.

“It’s Darby!” he said.

“Whoever it is, we’re about to be run down!” Jamie warned him, and, grabbing him by the collar, dragged him to the edge of the road.

The carriage jerked to a halt just past them. They’d been seen.

Darby jumped from the carriage. “Sweet Mary, Mother of God!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for the two of you for hours!”

“Why?”

“Letters for you. I tried my hardest to eavesdrop, that I did. But Lady Maggie has been very secretive since last night. I tried to stay with her, but she was going off with Lord and Lady de Burgh, and their coachman was taking them . . . wherever it was that they were going, and I’ve got my suspicions!”

“She’s down here somewhere!” Jamie said, taking the letter offered to him. “Damn her! She promised that she wouldn’t come around here!”

Justin had ripped open his own letter by then. “There’s a street name here. But no number! And the letter says that we need to be there by two o’clock, a matter of life or death.”

Jamie pulled out his pocket watch. “We’ve about three minutes,” he said grimly, and started for the carriage. “Three minutes! Let’s go!”

* * *

“What is wrong with her!” John called out, alarmed.