Page 82 of Garden of Lies

Slater smiled and closed the door. He watched from the front step until the cab disappeared into the fog.

THIRTY-NINE

The dream of the City of Tombs pulled him out of a restless sleep. He opened his eyes, giving himself a moment to cross the murky boundary between sleep and wakefulness.

He threw aside the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed. Mrs. Wyatt’s journal of accounts was on the nightstand along with the page of notes he had made.

He got to his feet and picked up the notes. It was a list of payments from clients who were identified only by their initials in the journal. There was something about the figures that did not look right.

He needed to think. He needed to walk the labyrinth. Tossing aside the notes, he pulled on his trousers and took the black silk dressing gown off the hook.

He opened the door and went out into the hall. The lamps were turned down low for the night but there was enough light to illuminate the corridor and the stairs. The Websters knew that one of their priorities was to make certain that the house was never enveloped in complete darkness. He had survived the experience of the Fever Island labyrinth but that did not mean that it had not left him with a few eccentricities.

He was quite capable of making his way silently down the hall. He knew every board that squeaked or groaned. He could avoid all of them. That was exactly what he intended to do until he found himself a step away from the door of Ursula’s bedroom.

He paused, examining his motives and desires. And then, very deliberately, he put a little weight on the spot in front of her door that he knew would betray his presence—assuming she was awake.

He did not stop again. He moved on toward the staircase, wondering if Ursula had heard the faint groan of the floorboard. If she had, would she bother to open the door to see who was up and around at that hour? Would she care? And even if she did go so far as to peek out into the hall, what would she do if she saw him on the stairs? She might simply close the door and go back to bed.

He was on the third step when he heard her door open. A thrill of anticipation excited his senses. He stopped and turned to look back along the hallway.

Ursula emerged from the room, one hand tight on the lapels of the chintz wrapper. Her hair was loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were dark with mystery and anxiety.

“Is something wrong?” she whispered.

“No,” he said. “I’m not in a mood to sleep so I decided to take a walk.”

“Outside?” Her eyes widened. “In the garden? At this hour?”

“No, downstairs in my basement—where I conduct those exotic rituals on assorted unsuspecting females.”

She relaxed, smiling a little. “Now you are teasing me.” She started to edge back into the bedroom. “I understand that you wish to be alone.”

“No,” he said. He held out his hand the way he had once reached for the climbing rope that brought him up out of the temple caves. “Come with me.”

She hesitated. “This is something two people can do together?”

“We will no doubt arrive at different truths but there is no reason that we can’t make the journey in harmony.”

She walked toward him, smiling. “Did you talk in such a philosophical fashion before you went to Fever Island?”

“I’ve been told that I have always been difficult to understand. The experience on Fever Island probably did not improve my conversational talents.”

She came down the stairs.

“As it happens, I have had some experience transcribing and interpreting coded language,” she said.

His spirits lightened as if by magic. He gripped her hand very tightly.

At the bottom of the stairs they turned and went along the corridor to the basement door. He inserted the key into the lock and opened the door to his private realm. At the top of the stone steps he paused to light the lantern. Without a word he gave it to her. She held it aloft.

He started down the steps, drawing her with him.

“I would be very grateful if you would refrain from making any remarks about Hades leading Persephone into the darkness,” he said.

“Never crossed my mind,” she assured him.

“It certainly crossed mine.”