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“Did Miss Wyatt have a dagger in her possession?” Felicity blurts out, much to my chagrin.
“Not that I recall. And certainly one would recall such a weapon.” Dr. Van Ripple strokes his beard, thinking.
“Does the phrase ‘The key holds the truth’ mean anything to you?” I ask.
Dr. Van Ripple purses his lips, thinks some more. “I’m afraid not.”
“Did she ever make mention of a key—any key that was special to her?” Felicity presses.
“No, no,” the doctor answers.
“Did she leave anything behind?” I ask, but my hopes are fading fast.
“A few of her dresses remained at the hall, and those I sold. I kept only one of her possessions—the slate.”
“Might we see it?” I plead.
Dr. Van Ripple rifles through a cupboard and comes back with the slate I’ve seen in my dreams and visions, and my excitement grows. The slate is of a good size, perhaps a foot tall by a foot wide, and it rests upon a wooden base. My fingers trace over the board, feeling the marks grooved into it from use.
“May we purchase this from you?” I ask, emboldened.
He shakes his head. “Dear me. It has such sentimental value that I couldn’t possibly—”
“How much?” Felicity interrupts.
“Perhaps five pounds?” he suggests.
“Five pounds!” Felicity gasps.
“Four?” he counters.
It doesn’t matter whether it’s four or five; we haven’t got it. Or do we? I wave my hand over my coin purse. I know I shall hate myself for this later, but that is later.
“Here you are, sir,” I say, opening my purse and counting out four pounds to Fee’s astonishment. She takes the slate from the magician.
“Dr. Van Ripple,” I say, “you said that Wilhelmina had been in contact with a sister, a friend, whom she no longer trusted. Are you certain you can’t recall her name?”
He shakes his head. “As I said, I was never introduced. The lady never came round, and as far as I know, she did not attend our shows. I only know that Wilhelmina feared her, and Mina did not fear much.”
A cold shiver speeds up my spine.
“Thank you for your time, Dr. Van Ripple,” I say, and he sees us out. At the door, he reaches behind Felicity’s ear and produces a perfect red rose, which he hands to her. “I understand they are Mr. Wilde’s favorite.”
“I will not have it, then,” Felicity says rudely.
“Judge not, lest ye be judged, my dear,” Dr. Van Ripple says with a sad smile, and Fee’s cheeks burn.
“However did you do that?” I ask him, for I find the trick merry even if Fee doesn’t.
“In truth, it is the simplest act in the world. The trick works because you wish it to. You must remember, my dear lady, the most important rule of any successful illusion: First, the people must want to believe in it.”
“I cannot believe he asked five pounds for this.” Felicity clucks as we cloak ourselves in the gloom of London’s streets again.
“Well, let’s hope he spends it quickly before it disappears,” I say.
Under the narrow glow of a streetlamp, we examine the slate, turning it this way and that, but there’s nothing unusual about it that we can see.
“Perhaps words will etch themselves as we watch,” Felicity says.
