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He grunted agreement and Samantha left, leaving him to continue his search for something that would provide information about the physician.

The upstairs landing was a fairly small space with only two rooms jutting off it.

She peeked inside the one to her right: a sitting room, judging from the two armchairs that had been placed with an oval table between.

With the room facing south, it was easy to imagine the afternoon sun spilling through the window behind them. A lovely spot for a cup of tea, though the space could have done with more décor. No rugs, paintings, or other embellishments were present. Just a shelf with a lone book placed upon it.

Samantha crossed to the shelf and collected the book.

Domestic Medicine by William Buchan.

Not the least bit unusual for a man with a medical profession, Samantha mused. She flipped the book open and leafed through it quickly only to conclude that it probably held no importance.

Brow knit, she turned from the room and went to check the one opposite, only to pause at the sight she encountered in what was surely Preordian’s bedchamber.

Or had been, until he’d made a hasty departure. Just as Adrian theorized.

The wardrobe doors gaped open, revealing the clothes that were left behind, besides those carelessly strewn across the floor. They told a story of a man who’d grabbed what he could and shoved it all into a trunk, perhaps?

A closer inspection of the room gave no indication that the physician had owned such an item.

There were no markings on the floor where it might have sat, besides which it would not have aided a swift departure.

It was far more likely he’d used a traveling bag of some sort, fashioned either from textile or leather.

In truth, the type of bag he’d used was insignificant.

What mattered was the fact he was gone, and the speed with which he’d left after Kendrick had come to see him.

From the looks of it, he’d started packing as soon as the chief constable departed, determined to vanish before Kendrick put two and two together and returned.

A definite indication of guilt on Preordian’s part.

Satisfied with her discovery, Samantha returned downstairs and conveyed her findings to Adrian. “Though it doesn’t confirm his involvement in Miss Griffin’s disappearance, it’s enough for me to suspect the man played a part.”

“I agree.” Adrian glanced around, his expression grim. “Unfortunately, nothing here implicates him or tells us where he’s gone.”

“Perhaps not, but maybe his neighbors can help. We could try asking them a few questions.”

“An excellent idea,” Adrian agreed.

They left Preordian’s home and headed next door, to the house on the left. A young couple lived there and the wife, who was home alone with the children, didn’t have much to share. She kept her responses brief, uninformative, and was keen on getting Adrian and Samantha to move on.

When no one answered the door at the next house, Samantha and Adrian moved on to Number 10. This turned out to be occupied by Mrs. Gates, an older woman who looked to be in her sixties. A widow, they learned after a brief chat.

She invited them in for tea as soon as she learned their reason for calling.

“Always seemed like he might be hiding something,” she said, offering them some biscuits.

Unlike Preordian’s parlor, the room Mrs. Gates had shown Adrian and Samantha into was brimming with energy.

A colorful rug covered the floor, potted plants stood in each corner, and a caged starling injected the conversation with lively chirps.

“What makes you say that?” Adrian asked. Neither he nor Samantha had suggested Preordian might be up to something illicit. They’d merely inquired about his whereabouts.

Mrs. Gates set the plate of biscuits aside while taking a seat. She shrugged one shoulder. “It’s one of those feelings, you understand? Never took a liking to him, though I can’t say why exactly. All I know is that I never felt comfortable around him.”

“And were you around him often?” Samantha asked, intent on discerning the likelihood of Mrs. Gates forming an accurate opinion.

“Not really. We met from time to time in the street.”

This had Samantha straightening. Adrian too. “That would suggest you’ve both lived on this street for a while.”

“Oh yes. I’ve been here over thirty years.”

“And Preordian?”

“At least two, I would think.”

Samantha shared a puzzled look with Adrian. Two years in a home that looked as though it hadn’t been lived in was rather odd. It was almost as though he’d deliberately kept things that way so he could be ready to leave at the drop of a hat.

Adrian leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. “Do patients visit Preordian regularly?”

“Oh yes.” Mrs. Gates picked up her teacup. “He’s been very popular since he moved in and opened his practice.”

“I don’t suppose you’d happen to know if one of his patients was a young woman by the name of Polly Griffin, roughly twenty years of age with dark brown hair? She was employed as a maid at Ottersburg House.”

“I’m afraid not. The patients came and went without stopping to chat, and I didn’t pay that much attention to what they looked like.

Certainly didn’t know any of them by name.

” Mrs. Gates sipped her tea. “For the most part I happened to catch a glance through the window. Just enough to realize the physician was keeping busy. I’m not the nosy sort, you see.

In general, I prefer to keep to myself.”

“We didn’t learn much,” Samantha said once she and Adrian were back in the carriage and headed for home. “Where do we go from here?”

“We know Kendrick spoke to Preordian, after which Preordian left in a rush. That alone is enough for me to believe he has something to hide and that we’d do well to find him.”

“I’m sure he’s left the City already.”

“You’re probably right, but it can’t hurt to check.”

Samantha agreed. There were eleven main coaching inns with carriages leaving London multiple times per day. The closest one to Preordian’s address was The Golden Cross.

They arrived there within ten minutes and went straight to the ticket counter.

“I’m afraid I can’t divulge the names of our passengers,” said the clerk when Adrian asked if a man by the name of Preordian had purchased a ticket within the last three hours.

Adrian clenched his jaw and tried to think of a way to force the annoying clerk’s hand. “He may have killed someone.”

The clerk merely blinked. “Then why is a representative from Bow Street not here in your stead?”

Because they don’t know the first thing about sniffing out men with blood on their hands.

Instead he said, “I am a Bow Street representative.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” The clerk stared at Adrian who stared right back. “I’ll just need to see your credentials.”

“Of course.” Adrian made a show of checking his pockets. “I’ve got them here somewhere. Now about that name I mentioned…”

“I’ll check our sales records for it as soon as I know you’ve a right to the information and that you’re not going to use it nefariously.”

Adrian glared at the clerk. Samantha pressed closer to his side in the hope of reminding him that he could not afford to lose his composure. Making her best attempt at a doe-eyed expression, she asked, “Did you forget it again?”

He took a deep breath. “I think so.”

The clerk’s gaze narrowed. Thoughts were clearly spinning rapidly inside his head. And then his eyes widened. “You’re Mr. Croft. I recognize your likeness from the papers.”

“Thank you for your help,” Adrian clipped. “Or lack of it, I should say.”

The clerk snorted. “I’d be mad to help the likes of you.”

“I’m sure I could make a compelling argument to the contrary,” Adrian seethed while Samantha drew him away from the ticket counter.

The clerk responded with a few scathing remarks of his own, none of which Samantha cared to pay any mind. “Don’t let him rile you. It’s not worth the trouble.”

“I was acquitted of any wrongdoing, Samantha. We both were. So what I should do is teach that arrogant pup a lesson he won’t soon forget.”

“And what?” She pulled away so she could face him, her own irritation flaring in the face of how reckless he was willing to be. “Risk the good standing you have earned with the prime minister? Do I need to remind you that one wrong move could land you straight back in prison?”

“I—”

“You took an enormous risk punishing Hillford’s wife,” she hissed, her voice muted. “Can you please refrain from doing anything else that might cause you to lose your freedom or even your life?”

He gave her a hard look. “Fine.”

She breathed a sigh of relief even though she knew the promise would only hold for so long. Once Adrian found the person responsible for his sister’s death, there was no doubt in her mind he’d kill them. Consequences be damned.

* * *

Elks informed Adrian of Murdoch’s presence as soon as Adrian returned home with Samantha.

The employment agent was waiting for them in the parlor.

A glass of brandy stood on the table next to the high backed chair in which he’d elected to sit.

He stood as soon as the door swung open, abandoning the paper he’d been using to pass the time.

“There’s been a development in the matter regarding Miss Griffin,” he said. “A possible connection has come to light. I thought you’d want to learn of it right away.”

The tension of knowing change was imminent pulled at Adrian’s nerves. He flexed his fingers and strode forward, prepared for whatever Murdoch had come to relay. “What has happened?”

“A man by the name of Francis Booker arrived at St. George’s Hospital earlier. One of the nurses sent information. From what I gather, Mr. Booker was picked up from an alley by some grave diggers. They were about to put him in the ground when he moved. Gave them a proper fright.”