A Christmas Promise - Anne Perry [38]
From the shadows at the entrance a figure materialized, long and lean, its face as gaunt as a skull, a top hat at a crazy angle over one side of the brow. Deep furrows ran from the nose around the wide mouth, and the eyes seemed white-rimmed in the eerie light as the brazier suddenly burned up in the draft.
Stan was rigid, like a stone figure. From the look on his face, the man in the doorway might have had death’s scythe in his hands. But it was nothing so symbolic that stirred beside the figure’s thin legs and the skirts of the man’s black frock coat. It was Minnie Maude, her face ash-pale, her hair straggling in wet rats’ tails onto her shoulders. He had hold of her by a rope around her neck.
Gracie felt the cold inside her grow and her own body tighten, as if she must do something, but she had no idea what. She felt Balthasar’s grip on her arm so hard it brought tears prickling into her eyes. She pulled away, to warn him, and he loosened it immediately.
“You did not deliver my box,” the toff said quietly, but his perfect diction and rasping voice filled the silence, echoing in the emptiness of the stable. Somewhere up in the loft there would be hay, straw, probably rats. “Give it to me now, and I will give you the girl. A simple exchange.”
“I left it fer yer,” Stan retorted with a naked fear one could almost smell. “In’t up ter me ter ’old yer ’and while yer sneak out an’ pick it up. In fact, yer’d prob’ly cut me throat fer seein’ yer if I did.”
“I would have preferred that we not meet,” the toff agreed with a ghastly smile. His teeth were beautiful, but his mouth twisted with unnameable pains. “But you have made that impossible.” He gave a quick tweak to the rope around Minnie Maude’s neck. “I have something that belongs to you. I will trade it for what you have that belongs to me. Then we will part, and forget each other. I imagine the men who supply you, and pay you whatever pittance it is, are not happy with you.”
Stan’s breath wheezed in his throat, as though the whole cage of his chest were too tight for him. “I in’t got it!”
“Yes, you have! Those who supply it want their money, and I want what is in my box. You want the child.” He made it a statement, but there was an edge of panic in his voice now, and his eyes were wild, darting from Stan to the shadows where the light from the lanterns flickered.
Gracie was motionless, afraid that even her blinking might somehow catch his attention.
“Yer’ve always ’idden,” Stan argued. “Now I’ve seen yer, wot’s ter say yer won’t kill me, like yer killed Alf?”
The toff drew in a quick breath. “So you do have it. Good. This is a beginning. You are quite right. I will kill to get what I need. With regret, certainly, but without hesitation.” He pulled Minnie Maude a little closer to him, using the rope around her neck. She looked very thin, very fragile. One hard yank could break the slender bones. The end of her life would be instantaneous.
Balthasar must have had the same conviction. He let go of Gracie’s arm and stepped forward out of the shadows.
“Do not lie to the man, Stanley.” He spoke quietly, as if he were merely giving advice. If he was afraid, there was nothing of it in his voice, or in the easy grace with which he stood. “Alf gave it to Rose, perhaps as a gift. He had no idea what was inside it, simply that it was pretty. When you realized where it was, you took it from her, as he”—he gestured toward the toff, “knew you would. He followed you and beat that information out of Rose. He will not pay the suppliers until he has his goods, as you well know, which is why you are afraid of them. They will surely hold you accountable, possibly they already have. I imagine it is your blood on your stable floor, which is why you are terrified now.”
Stan was shaking, but he kept his eyes on the toff, never once turning to look at Balthasar behind him. “An’ ’e’ll kill me if I do,” he said. “’e di’n’t never want ter be seen. I ’ave ter leave it where ’e can watch me put it, then go, so ’e can creep out an