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"Gemma--wait!" she cries, rushing to join me.

At the bottom of the stairs, a room opens. We're standing on a gaslit platform. The great curved wooden ceiling of the tunnel soars above us. Down the platform, Miss McCleethy waits. We stay out of sight until the train shooshes into the station. Miss McCleethy enters, and we walk quickly to the car adjacent to hers. It is difficult to know what is more exciting: the possibility of being discovered by Miss McCleethy or our first journey on the Underground. We take turns sticking our heads out into the aisle in a very unladylike fashion so that we might spy on Miss McCleethy in the next compartment. For her part, Miss McCleethy is contentedly reading Miss Wyatt's book about secret societies. I am desperate to know what she has discovered but don't dare look at our copy lest we lose sight of our teacher.

The conductor announces our departure. With a sharp pull, the train lurches into the tunnel. Felicity grips my hand. It is a strange sensation to find ourselves moving through this darkened passageway, the low glimmer of the gaslights trailing across our astonished faces like falling stars.

A conductor stands near, ready to call each stop from its platform. Miss McCleethy does not look up from her book. When the conductor announces Westminster Bridge, however, she closes her book and gets off the train with the three of us trailing at a safe distance. We come out onto the streets, blinking in the sudden light.

"She's taking that horse tram!" Felicity says.

"We're done for, then," I say. "We can't very well follow her onto it. She'll see us."

Ann grabs my hand. "We can do it. Look, there's a crowd. We'll fall in. If she should see us, we'll simply say we are sightseeing."

It's a very daring plan. Miss McCleethy moves to the back of the crowded tram. We stand near the front, keeping as many people between us as possible. At Westminster Bridge Road, Miss McCleethy alights, and we nearly trample one another trying to follow her. I know where we are. I've been here recently. We're in Lambeth, very near Bethiem Royal Hospital. Indeed, Miss McCleethy walks briskly in that direction. Within minutes, we are watching her as she strides through the iron gates and up the curved walk to the entrance's grand portico. We hide ourselves in some hedges along the walk, crouching low.

"What does she want at Bedlam?" Felicity says ominously. A chill passes through me."Nell Hawkins is there."

"You don't suppose Miss McCleethy would harm her, do you?" Ann asks in that inappropriately excited way that suggests she doesn't find the idea entirely distasteful if it makes the afternoon into a good story. "I don't know." I say. "But it certainly makes me think they are known to each other, most likely from Saint Victoria's."

We stand outside in the cold for some time, but Miss McCleethy does not return, and we are in danger of missing our rendezvous with Franny. Reluctantly, we leave, and I have more questions than ever. What did Miss McCleethy want at Bedlam? What is she after? I feel certain that Miss McCleethy and Nell Hawkins are connected. What I don't know is how and why.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

FELICITY INVITES US TO HER HOME FOR A VERY LATE tea. Our appetites stoked by adventure, we each devour several dainty sandwiches without apology.

"Well, what do you make of that? Miss McCleethy at Bedlam?" Felicity asks between bites.

"Perhaps Miss McCleethy has a lunatic relative?" Ann offers."One who is a deep embarrassment to the family."

"Or perhaps she was there to see Nell Hawkins," I say.

"We have no answers to that at present. Let's see what Miss Wyatt has to say that is of such interest to Miss McCleethy," Felicity says, commandeering the book, as I knew she would. "Knights Templar, Fraternal Masons, Hellfire Club, the Hassassins . . . the table of contents alone is a read. Ah, here it is. Page two hundred and fifty-five. The Order." She flips to the page and reads aloud.

"Each generation, young girls would be scrupulously trained to take their places within the Order's most privileged ranks. During the time of their sixteenth year, they would be watched closely to see who among them was chosen by the realms to have true power and whose power was but a flickering flame, burned down to ash. Those who were not chosen would be turned away, perhaps to a life of home and hearth, nevermore to think on their time with these powerful conjurers. Still others went on to a life of service, called upon by the Order in some fashion or another when the time arose.

"There are those who say the Order never existed save as a story like the tales of fairies, goblins, and witches, princesses, and the immortal gods of Mount Olympus that mark literature so prized by impressionable girls who wish to believe in such fancies. Others say these women were Celtic pagans who vanished into the mists of time as did Merlin, Arthur, and his knights. Still others whisper a darker tale: that one of the Order's own betrayed them with a human sacrifice. ..."

Felicity's eyes take in the page. She's reading to herself.

"You must read aloud!" I protest. "It's only what we already know," she says.

"Here, I shall read," I say, taking the book.

"The lunatics, the addicts, the drunks, the poor, or the starving, these poor unfortunate souls required the protection of the Order, for their minds were too troubled and weak to resist the voices of the dark spirits who could speak to them at any time. ..."

The drunk. The addict. I think of my father. But no, I've saved him. He is safe.

"If spirits are able to enter the minds of the insane, how can we be sure of Nell Hawkins?" Ann asks."What if they are already using her for ill purposes?"

Felicity agrees."It is a troubling thought."

There was Mr. Carey today, giving me his chilling warning, but Nell wasn't frightening. She was frightened. I shake my head. "I believe Nell is fighting very hard to keep any spirits from using her. It is why she is so difficult to reach, I'm sure."

"How long can she succeed?" Ann asks. I've no answer for this.

"Let me have another go," Felicity says, taking the book from me.

"It is a fact, " she reads aloud, "though some dispute this wisdom as folly, that the Order still exists today, their members gone into hiding. They recognize one another by a variety of symbols known only to their members. Among these are the crescent eye, the double lotus blossom, the rose, two snakes intertwined ..."

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