The Dark Between Part 27

"Just as I thought," she said. "Almost as easy to open as a padlock. Gentlemen like Marshall should take more care to protect their secrets."

Chapter 34.

Elsie stood at the sitting room window, watching the gas lamps flicker over Summerfield Walk. Asher and Kate had left not quite an hour ago, but already she fidgeted. Each second that ticked on the clock unnerved her. She forced herself to sit, but less than a minute later she was up again, pacing back and forth in front of the window.

What if they didn't return? What was she supposed to do then?

"Miss, can I get you anything?"

Elsie turned to find Millie at the doorway, blinking sleepily.

"I'm fine, Millie. You should go to bed."

"Begging your pardon, miss, but Mrs. Thompson told me not to retire until everyone was settled. You're still up, and I heard Mr. Beale and Miss Poole leave earlier." The girl stifled a yawn. "I don't wish to catch trouble, miss."

"Everything is fine, Millie. You're asleep on your feet, so please don't stay up any longer."

Millie squirmed. "I can't lose this position, miss."

"And you won't. Mr. Beale and Miss Poole will return soon and we'll all be safe in our beds before midnight. I will a.s.sure my aunt that you took wonderful care of us in her absence."

The maid bobbed a curtsy, a grateful look on her face. "Thanks, miss."

Once alone, Elsie turned back to the window with a sigh.

Her thoughts threatened to turn to Simon, but she was doing her best to circ.u.mvent them. Only last night she'd resolved to no longer allow her life to revolve around a man's affections. Now that she was alone and listless, her resolve was fading.

That night at Stonehill-had Simon thought of her as he fell asleep? How long after he woke did he remember what had happened? What was his greatest regret-pus.h.i.+ng her away, or letting her through the door in the first place? She knew he'd desired her. It wasn't just a matter of using her to contact his lost love. Their connection was deeper than that.

Soon he would be gone, and so far out of her reach. He would forget her.

She nudged that thought aside, for she couldn't bear to imagine the days and months that would follow in which she had ... nothing. No one to love. Nowhere to go. Thoughts like that made her long for the dose.

The clock chimed eleven. The next hour would stretch into eternity if she kept staring into the darkness outside. She settled into a chair and picked up the embroidery she'd pretended to work upon for the past two weeks.

After staring at it for a moment, she tossed the hoop aside.

Throughout the day a possibility had flickered through her mind-a way of pa.s.sing the time in an active way, but only once Millie had retired for the evening. It was a shameful action she was contemplating, and Elsie cringed at the thought of betraying her family in this manner. And yet she needed to know.

Having grown up in a house of secrets, Elsie well knew how to read the body language of deception. The thought had been niggling at her for days, and now she firmly believed that her uncle was keeping something from them. He'd behaved strangely that day at the old lab, insistent that they not go inside. And earlier he'd been suspiciously vague about the key. Perhaps he had hidden it somewhere in the house.... If so, she would do her best to find it tonight.

She'd already looked through his bedroom dresser, but it merely contained clean clothes. Not surprising-her uncle was unlikely to hide anything secret there. So she started with his office, which was in its usual state of disarray. Hiking her skirts, she stepped around the piles of books and papers until she reached the desk. In this part of the house she shouldn't be overheard by Millie, but she still took care to keep quiet.

Her uncle's desk held nothing extraordinary. Inside she found papers, papers, and more papers, as well as pencils, thumbtacks, dusty bits of rubber for erasing, and other things typical to a scholar's desk. Nothing the least bit suspicious. So she turned to the specimen cabinet next to the window. It had a maddening number of shallow drawers, but Elsie was determined to open each one.

Her skin crawled at the thought of tiny mammal skeletons and hairy moths splayed on pincus.h.i.+ons. To her surprise, however, her uncle kept more sentimental items in his specimen case. One drawer held a brooch and a watch fob made of human hair. She touched them lightly, marveling at the intricate weaving. Other drawers held pretty rocks, pressed flowers, and folded notes written in French and Latin. She recognized her aunt's handwriting in the latter and was glad she couldn't translate these private messages. She opened another drawer to find a delicate wren's nest, perfectly shaped and holding a tiny papier-mache egg.

The more drawers she opened, the more she despised herself for invading her uncle's privacy. What had she been thinking? Uncle had bristled and scolded at the old lab because he was worried about their safety, not because he was hiding something.

She was close to putting an end to the horrid pillaging of the cabinet when she found the folded handkerchief containing a watch and a key.

The watch was very fine, fas.h.i.+oned of gold and intricately carved. She opened it with trembling fingers. Within she found the inscription she'd been dreading-TO DEAR FRIEND AND PUPIL F. STANTON FROM O. THOMPSON.

Kate had told her of this watch. Frederic Stanton had given it to her, the daughter he could not publicly recognize. Kate had given it to Billy, Billy had given it to his killer, and Uncle had somehow come into its possession after that.

Snapping the watch shut in her left hand, she turned her attention to the key, a clunky thing of dull metal that lay unmarked and untagged. She lifted it out of the drawer. Surely this was the key to the old lab. Why else would her uncle hide it with the watch?

Elsie stared numbly at the items, weighing them against each other as though her flattened palms were the pans of a balance scale.

If Asher and Kate could risk breaking into a Cambridge college, she could at the very least return to the lab and try once more to speak with Tec. This time she would ask him about her uncle and Dr. Marshall. And she wouldn't leave without getting a photograph of that beastly induction coil.

The files were orderly and well marked-Kate had to give Marshall credit for being a tidy madman, at the very least. "We must be careful to put everything back exactly as we found it," she told Asher. "Someone this organized would notice if anything was amiss, and we don't want him to be suspicious. He might destroy important information if he thought it had been tampered with."

Asher frowned. "But I thought we would take the important evidence with us."

"We can take a piece or two, but not too much. Just enough for the police to take us seriously."

"And how are we to explain how we came upon this evidence?"

She thought for a moment. "I'll tell them Billy stole it and gave it to me for safekeeping."

They found Marshall's files from his student days at the bottom of the cabinet. But when Kate opened the first file, Asher shook his head. "They're just papers written for tutors," he said. "Can't imagine you'll find much there."

Kate moved on to his collection of published articles, carefully dividing them and giving half to Asher before she settled into reading. With all the unfamiliar words and complex sentences, it certainly wasn't easy going. She couldn't contain a gasp, however, when she found an article with electrotherapy in the t.i.tle.

Asher nudged her. "What is it?"

She glanced over the first paragraph. "I can't make much sense of this one, but I think it's about epilepsy." She held up the pages for Asher to see. "Is that similar to Elsie's condition?"

He took the article and paged through it. "This is pretty interesting," he said after a moment. "Marshall writes that epileptic states can be triggered in subjects using a pulsating current of electricity." He paused to read silently.

Kate s.h.i.+fted her feet impatiently. "Well?"

"Hold on. I just to need to make sure I understand this." After another maddening pause, he set the article down and met her gaze. "It's a study on the application of electric shock within a controlled environment. At a certain voltage, the subjects suffered convulsions and stopped breathing. But when the voltage was decreased, respiration was reestablished. At that point the subjects would fall into a profound sleep, proving unresponsive to pain stimulus. When the current was switched off, however, the subjects woke normally."

"My G.o.d, that sounds barbaric! Is that what Marshall tried to do to Billy? He must have started the convulsions but failed to bring him back."

Asher handed the article back to her. "I can't say. All these studies were performed on dogs and rabbits. Marshall is just reporting on the work of a French researcher."

Kate slumped. "Still, it's something. Keep looking."

In the uppermost drawer on the right side of the cabinet, she found a plump portfolio marked Research. The first item was an article for the Metaphysical Society Journal ent.i.tled "Subliminal Self." Following it were dozens of pages of handwritten notes.

"This looks promising." She handed Asher the article.

"Do you recognize the handwriting in those notes?" he asked. "Is it the same from the pages Billy had?"

She studied the neat script. "I only saw those pages for a few minutes, but it could be the same hand."

He read the article silently for a moment. "This is the theory Marshall outlined very briefly at the Thompsons' dinner that night-the notion of accessing latent abilities. There's nothing about electric shock here."

"These look to be notes from interviews." Kate scanned the first interview. "Listen to this-this first subject was an ordinary man who never before displayed any musical talent, but after a severe electrical shock he could play the piano as if he'd been trained for years."

"Did Marshall administer the shock?"

Kate read back through the details. "No, it was an accident-the man worked with high-voltage transmission lines. It's a miracle he survived."

"What else is there?"

She paged through. "Here's a woman who was thrown from a horse, struck her head on a tree, and upon recovery found herself able to speak a foreign language." She flipped more pages. "And here's one who claimed the ability to communicate with spirits after a brain injury, but Marshall has written 'known charlatan' at the bottom of the page."

"Can you find any mention of experimentation?"

She continued to flip pages. "It's just a series of interviews. There's nothing about Billy or Tec here. Nothing about the old lab or that vagrant found on the cricket grounds." She sighed. "He's even collected notes from other books-stories of people long dead, but he's noted the details of the 'gift' each person received after a brush with death."

"Search through the rest and let me know what you find." He handed the "Subliminal Self" article back to her. "Return this to the file, and I'll search the next folder."

She did as told, paging carefully through the accounts and pausing to reread when Marshall had penciled margin notes like "plausible" or "story confirmed by medical professional." At the end was a single sheet of paper with a few additional scribbled notes. She took it out and set the folder on the floor. The very first line set her heart racing.

Possible to safely induce mind-altering effects of near-death experience?

Mesmerism disappointing.

Nitrous proves mind-expanding, inspires epiphanies, but effects are temporary and exact nature of epiphany is forgotten.

In small doses, chloroform separates the mind from the body and heightens awareness- A curious rattling noise drew her eyes from the page. It took her a moment to comprehend the sounds of a key being inserted into a lock and a k.n.o.b turning. She turned to Asher, whose eyes widened.

"It's the outer door." He scooped up the folder and returned it to the cabinet.

"But I just found what we needed!" Kate folded the page and shoved it into her trouser pocket. "What do we do?"

"Lock the cabinet!"

There was no time to extinguish the lamp. No time to hide. All they could do was stand in the center of the room and look foolish as the innermost door opened.

Philip Marshall stood in the entry, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

"What the devil is going on here?"

Chapter 35.

Elsie unlocked the side door and slipped out into the darkness, sidestepping the gravel path to run through the soft, damp gra.s.s. Her corset pinched her like a vise and the camera thumped against her hip, but she paused only long enough to catch her breath before pressing forward.

She slowed her pace when the white door of the old lab came into view. As she drew near, she studied the windows in the moonlight. All seemed dark and quiet.

She pulled the key from her pocket. Tucking the electric torch under her arm, she felt under the doork.n.o.b until she located the keyhole. The key slipped in and turned without effort.

She froze at a sound from within.

A low voice murmured. She couldn't make out the words, but the voice seemed calm. Then it fell silent.

Holding her breath, she slowly turned the key back and pulled it out. She waited to hear movement toward the door, bracing herself for a desperate sprint back to the Gatehouse. The voice came again, still calm. Heart pounding, she took three steps back.

Nothing happened.

Elsie turned around. A light shone in the sitting room window of the Gatehouse, beckoning her toward safety. The prospect of returning to her room and locking the door was tempting, but the thought of Kate and Asher reminded her to be brave.

She stepped softly around the building to the side window Kate had tried to open before Uncle caught them. Elsie had never asked if she'd managed to unlock it. Laying the torch on the ground, she reached up and tentatively pressed on the wood frame until it s.h.i.+fted upward an inch. She applied more pressure, praying for it not to make a sound. Inch by inch she lifted the window.

When she reached in to part the curtain, a sliver of light shone through. Was it enough light for a photograph?

Perhaps not a good one, but if she held the camera perfectly still she might capture the culprit on film. Elsie breathed deeply to steady herself. Asher and Kate were taking a terrible risk this night. She must draw strength from their example. Releasing a final breath of air, she retrieved the camera from the bag and extended the lens as quietly as she could. Then she guided it until the lens barely poked through the curtain. Steadying the camera on the windowsill, she held her breath and activated the shutter.

The click seemed to echo all around her. She steeled herself, but the silence continued. Weak with relief, she slowly slid the camera back through the window and folded it shut. The photograph might turn out dark and blurred, but at least she'd tried. Now she just had to get safely back to her room. She placed the camera back in the bag and gently lowered it to the weeds.

Just as she began to close the window panel, the voice came again. This time she could discern most of the words.

"You must wait exactly one minute ... before you apply ... second. Do you understand?"

Her pulse leapt. I know that voice.

She parted the curtain and peered through. In the flickering lamplight she could see the cabinets of specimens and scientific instruments lining the walls. But a far more arresting sight took away the breath she'd finally managed to control-a bare-chested man lay sideways on a table, propped on an elbow.

Simon Wakeham.

That wasn't the strangest thing. She swallowed a cry when she saw who stood near him, his hand on the induction coil. It was the dark-haired boy from last night's vision-the one who'd said his name was Thomas. The one Kate called Tec.

She'd seen him in the spirit world. He was dead. How could he be standing there in the old lab?

Elsie heard a click, then a low whir. She watched as Tec pulled two paddles from the induction coil toward Simon's chest. Then he placed a wooden bar between the young man's teeth and pushed him back until he lay flat upon the table. Simon nodded and closed his eyes.

No.