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At Christmastime, we followed Miss McCleethy to the Golden Dawn bookseller’s in the Strand. She purchased the book, so we did the same, but until now, I’ve thought it one of her peculiarities. I’ve not thought there could be a deeper, and perhaps much darker, reason for her wanting it.
“I saw McCleethy’s face briefly in one of my visions,” I remind them. “She could be the sister Dr. Van Ripple mentioned.”
“Yes, though you said you only saw her face,” Felicity adds. “You didn’t see them together.”
o;I trust you’ll give Mademoiselle LeFarge no trouble, ladies,” she says. “I shall see you on the morrow.”
“I didn’t know Miss McCleethy had any friends,” Ann mutters once McCleethy has taken her leave of us.
Nor did I, but Miss McCleethy has been full of surprises tonight.
The London fog envelops us in its murkiness. Figures emerge at first like ghosts, like something that belongs to the mist, before taking on form—top hats, coats, bonnets. It is an effect as thrilling as anything conjured by the Wolfson brothers’ magic lantern.
Ann, Felicity, and LeFarge are distracted by the sight of a Mr. Pinkney—the Human Calliope—as he mimics the sound of the instrument with his mouth while also banging a drum.
Dr. Van Ripple emerges from the fog, hobbling quickly on his cane. He collides with a gentleman. “I do beg your pardon, sir. It’s this leg and the damp.”
“No harm done,” the gentleman says. As he helps to right Dr. Van Ripple, I see the magician reach into the man’s pocket and relieve him of his gold watch.
Master illusionist, indeed. Master pickpocket would be more like it.
“Pardon me, pardon me,” he says, shooing the ladies and gentlemen in their finery out of his way. I block his path. He locks eyes with me, startled.
“Did you enjoy the show, my dear?”
“Which show would that be, sir?” I say sweetly. “The Wolfson brothers’? Or the one I just witnessed in which you relieved a man of his pocket watch?”
“An honest mistake,” Dr. Van Ripple says, his eyes wide with fear.
“I shan’t tell,” I assure him. “But I expect something in return. When Miss LeFarge mentioned Spence, you paled at the name. Why?”
“Really, I must be going….”
“Shall I call for the constable?”
Dr. Van Ripple glowers. “My assistant attended the Spence Academy.”
“She was a Spence girl?”
“So she said.”
I search his face. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”
He puts his hand over his heart. “On my reputation as a gentleman—”
I stop him. “I believe your reputation as a gentleman is very much in question, sir.”
He holds my gaze. “On my reputation as a magician, then. I promise you this is the truth.”
Our carriages have arrived. “Come along, girls!” Mademoiselle LeFarge calls.
“Best not keep them waiting,” he says, pocketing the stolen watch.
Can I trust the word of a thief?
“Dr. Van Ripple,” I start, but he waves me off with his cane. “Please, sir, I only wish to know her name, nothing more, and I shall leave you in peace. I promise.”
Seeing I will not surrender, he sighs. “Very well. It was Mina. Miss Wilhelmina Wyatt.”
