Steampunk Prime_ A Vintage Steampunk Reader - Mike Ashley [82]
“You did very wrong not to return at once. Did you by any chance happen to see the person the child ran to?”
“I saw no one, sir; only the cry of the child still rings in my ears and the delight in his voice. ‘Pitty lady,’ he said, and off he went like a flash.”
“You should have followed him.”
“I know it, sir, and I’m fit to kill myself; but the gentleman was that nice and civil, and I’ll own I forgot everything else in the pleasure of having a chat with him.”
“The man who spoke to you called himself Ivanhoe?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I should like you to give me some particulars with regard to this man’s appearance,” I said, interrupting the conversation for the first time.
The woman stared at me. I doubt if she had ever seen me before.
“He was a dark, handsome man,” she said; then, slowly, “but with something peculiar about him, and he spoke like a foreigner.”
I glanced at Durham. His eyes met mine in the most hopeless perplexity. I looked away. A thousand wild fears were rushing through my brain.
“There is no good in wasting time over unimportant matters,” said the poor father impatiently. “The thing to do is to find baby at once. Control yourself, please, Jane; you do not make matters any better by giving way to undue emotion. Did you mention the child’s loss to the police?”
“Yes, sir, two hours back.”
“Durham,” I said suddenly, “you and I had better go at once to Dufrayer. He will advise us exactly what is to be done.”
Durham glanced at me, then without a word went into the hall and put on his hat. We both left the house.
“What do you think of it, Head?” He said presently, as we were bowling away in a hansom to Dufrayer’s flat.
“I cannot help telling you that I fear there is grave danger ahead,” I replied; “but do not ask me any more until we have consulted Dufrayer.”
The lawyer was in, and the whole story of the child’s disappearance was told to him. He listened gravely. When Durham had finished speaking, Dufrayer said slowly:
“There is little doubt what has happened.”
“What do you mean?” Cried Durham. “Is it possible that you have got a solution already?”
“I have, my poor fellow, and a grave one. I fear that you are one of the many victims of the greatest criminal in London. I allude to Mme. Koluchy.”
“Mme. Koluchy!” Said Durham, glancing from one of us to the other. “What can you mean? Are you dreaming? Mme. Koluchy! What can she have to do with my little boy? Is it possible that you allude to the great lady doctor?”
“The same,” cried Dufrayer. “The fact is Durham, Head and I have been watching this woman for months past. We have learned some grave things about her. I will not take up your time now relating them, but you must take our word for it that she is not to be trusted — that to know her is to be in danger — to be her friend is to be in touch with some monstrous and terrible crime. For some reason she has made a friend of Lady Faulkner. Head saw them standing together under your picture. Head, will you tell Durham the exact words you overheard Lady Faulkner say?”
I repeated them.
Durham, who had been listening attentively, now shook his head.
“We are only wasting time following a clue of that sort,” he said. “Nothing would induce me to doubt Lady Faulkner. What object could she possibly have in stealing my child? She has a child of her own exactly like Robin. Head, you are on a wrong track — you waste time by these conjectures. Someone has stolen the child hoping to reap a large reward. We must go to the police immediately, and have wires sent to every station round London.”
“I will accompany you, Durham, if you