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FIFTY

T he following morning Ursula was in the library with Slater going over their notes on the case in an effort to construct a proper timeline, when the door opened.

“The biggest unknown here is the exact timing of Cobb’s arrival in London,” Slater said.

He broke off as Gilbert Otford rushed into the room. The journalist was flushed with excitement.

“Fulbrook’s body was discovered early this morning by a constable,” he announced. “Throat cut by a footpad. The Flying Intelligencer is printing a special edition as we speak. My editor is going with the headline Murder in Mapstone Square . Rumors of a Great Scandal. ”

An eerie shock lanced through Ursula. Her palms tingled and the back of her neck felt as if it had been touched by fingers from a grave. It was not the news of Fulbrook’s death that provoked the disturbing sensation—it was the realization that Slater had anticipated the report of the murder.

She looked at him. He sat quietly behind his desk, pages of notes arranged in a neat row in front of him, and looked at Otford with an unreadable expression.

It was one thing to use logic to deduce that a man might be the next target of a killer, she thought.

It was another matter altogether to have that reasoning proved accurate.

The fact that Fulbrook deserved his fate was not important.

It was the realization that one had predicted the outcome—and that the outcome was death—that chilled the spirit.

“Where was the body discovered?” Slater asked quietly.

Otford consulted his notes. “Not far from his front door. It’s believed that Fulbrook was attacked either after he got out of a cab or while trying to summon one. None of the neighbors heard or saw anything.”

“Of course not,” Ursula said.

“Not that the lack of witnesses will stifle the scandal.” Otford snapped his notebook shut.

“The murder of a gentleman on his own doorstep in an exclusive neighborhood is always a sensation. Every reporter in town is covering the story but thanks to you, Mr. Roxton, I’m the only one with knowledge of Fulbrook’s connection to the Olympus Club, where men of rank enjoy a strange drug and the services of the women of the Pavilion.

Mrs. Wyatt’s murder will now also become a sensation because I can link her business to the club and the club to Fulbrook. ”

“I take it you are once again working for The Flying Intelligencer ?” Slater said.

“My editor rehired me this morning when he realized I had a close connection to the story. Meanwhile, I will prepare the first edition of my new magazine. I’m going to call it The Illustrated News of Crime and Scandal .”

“That should appeal to a wide readership,” Ursula said with a small sniff.

“Yes, indeed,” Otford said, unfazed.

Slater leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the desk. “What did you tell your editor about Cobb and the drug business?”

“Don’t worry,” Otford said. “I’ve kept mum about the American crime lord and the ambrosia drug.”

“You’re certain you did not mention Cobb to your editor?” Slater said.

Otford looked sly. “Never said a word to him. Between you and me, the Cobb connection is my ace in the hole, as the Americans say. I’m saving it for the first edition of my magazine, which will be ready to go to press the moment this affair is concluded.”

“We are assuming that Cobb will make a wrong move and manage to implicate himself,” Ursula said.

“He will make one more mistake,” Slater said.

Otford and Ursula looked at him.

“How can you be so certain of that?” Otford demanded, fascinated.

Slater shrugged. “He is responsible for the murder of a number of people, including a high-ranking gentleman, and at this point he thinks that no one suspects him because his ship does not dock until today. He will very soon be sailing to New York with a beautiful woman who sees him as a knight in shining armor. He’s a crime lord and he’s in the process of building an empire.

Trust me, at this moment, he believes he is invincible.

That is why he will make his last mistake. ”

“If you say so.” Otford slipped his notebook back into his pocket.

“I’ll take your word for it. You haven’t been wrong so far.

Now I must be off. The police have promised that they will have an announcement for the press at one o’clock at the Yard.

There’ll be the usual idle chatter about how much progress they’re making in the search for Fulbrook’s killer, et cetera, et cetera.

Nonsense, of course, but my editor will want it for the paper. ”

Otford hurried away and disappeared down the hall. Ursula waited until she heard Webster usher him out of the house.

She rose, crossed the room and very quietly shut the door. Turning, she looked at Slater.

“You knew what was going to happen to Fulbrook, even though you warned him,” she said.

Slater got to his feet and went to look out the window at the rain-dampened garden. “It was not a certainty that Fulbrook would end up dead but there was a very high probability that would be the outcome. The pattern was almost entirely clear.”

“Almost?”

“The pattern of the labyrinth is never completely clear until one reaches the center and sees the answer. It’s impossible to factor in every single element of an equation. Logic can be warped or deflected by unpredictable emotions.”

“But in this instance, your logic held.”

Slater turned around to face her. “Because I assumed that Fulbrook would not behave rationally. I knew he would probably panic. I was almost positive that he would go straight home to grab the money that I told him I had left inside the safe.”

“And you knew that Cobb would be watching from the shadows.”

“Cobb does not know his way around London and he is on his own now that his assassin is dead. I very much doubt that he could follow Fulbrook through our busy, occasionally dangerous streets. But he was certain to have Fulbrook’s address.

All he had to do was hire a cab to take him to Mapstone Square and wait for Fulbrook to appear. ”

Ursula walked across the room and stopped directly in front of him. She raised her hands to his shoulders, stood on tiptoe and brushed her mouth across his.

“Fulbrook does not deserve our pity,” she said. “But I am very sorry that you had to walk the labyrinth so far into the darkness to deal with him.”

Slater framed her face with his hands. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For understanding.”

He folded his arms around her and held her close for a long time.