Page 67 of The Paid Companion

“Whoever the villain was, he wanted to make certain of his work,” Arthur said quietly.

“Aye, that he did.” Hitchins glanced around the small space. “Looks like there was a bit of a struggle.”

Arthur studied the overturned chair. “Yes.” He walked closer to the body. The light glared on the blade of a knife that lay near Ibbitts’s outflung arm. “He tried to defend himself.”

“No blood on his blade.” Hitchins made a tut-tutting sound. “He missed his target, poor bastard. Didn’t even nick the villain.”

Arthur crouched to take a closer look at the knife. As Hitchins had noted, there was no trace of blood. Several long, black threads were caught at the end where the blade was attached to the hilt.

“Looks like he snagged the killer’s coat.”

He straightened, an edgy dread tightening his innards. He thought of Elenora waiting downstairs in the carriage and turned immediately toward the door.

“Come, Hitchins, we must be off. We shall arrange for the authorities to be notified anonymously about this death. Whatever happens, I do not want Miss Lodge’s name involved. Is that understood?”

“Aye, m’lord.” Hitchins followed him out the door. “Set your mind at ease, sir. I’ve got too much respect for Miss Lodge to see her troubled in any way. She’s been through enough.”

The admiration in Hitchins’s voice was genuine. Arthur was certain that the Runner could be trusted in this affair.

He went quickly down the stairs, cursing himself with each step. He had been a fool to let Elenora convince him to bring her along. It was one thing for her to risk being seen with him in a less-than-pristine part of town. The worst that could result was a bit of scandalized talk that would do no great harm.

It would be another matter altogether if someone noticed her sitting in a carriage in front of the scene of a murder.

When he and Hitchins reached the front hall, he turned down the lamp before moving outside.

“Do not run,” he said to Hitchins. “But for God’s sake, do not dawdle.”

“Wasn’t planning to take my time, sir.”

They stepped outside and went quickly to the waiting carriage. Hitchins bounded up onto the box to join Jenks. Arthur heard him explaining the situation in low tones.

Jenks had the vehicle in motion before Arthur got the door closed.

“What’s wrong?” Elenora demanded.

“Ibbitts is dead.” He dropped down onto the seat across from her. “Murdered.”

“Dear heaven.” She hesitated a second. “The man Hitchins saw earlier? The one who waited for Ibbitts and then left in a great hurry?”

“Most likely.”

“But who would kill Ibbitts, and why?”

“I suspect the villain got the information he wanted and then decided that death was the only way to keep Ibbitts quiet.”

He kept the pistol in his hand and watched the street, searching each darkened doorway, trying to make out the shapes in the shadows. Was the killer still here, lurking in an alley, perhaps? Had he seen Elenora?

“Well, this certainly seems to prove that someone, is, indeed, aware that you are investigating your great-uncle’s murder,” she said quietly.

“Yes.” He tightened his grip on the pistol. “This affair has become a game of hide-and-seek. If only Hitchins had gotten a closer look at the villain when he entered and left Ibbitts’s lodgings.”

“Was there no clue left at the scene of the murder?”

“I did not take time to conduct a thorough search. The only thing that was obvious was that Ibbitts tried to defend himself with his knife.”

“Ah, did he cut the villain, do you think?” Enthusiasm laced her voice. “If he managed to wound his attacker, there may be some hope.”

“Unfortunately, I fear that he only snagged the killer’s cloak. There were a few black threads stuck to the knife, but no blood.”