The Escapement of Blackledge: a novella Read Online Free PDF Page A

will take a match with you except me.”
    “That is a hardship.”
    George smirked, no doubt knowing full well Weatherby’s opinions on the subject. “Another game?”
    “I think not.” He glanced at the room and made the mistake of catching Owl’s eye.
    The fellow’s chin had been swallowed by his cravat. “I say, Blackledge! You might have some ideas about Dollop’s puzzle.”
    “So you intimated earlier.” Weatherby turned to put his cue away. “But I do not know what the puzzle is.”
    “Not know! You are a queer duck. Not to know about the biggest puzzle of our time?” He followed Weatherby across the room in a miasma of snuff.
    “You are going to enlighten me, I presume?” This encounter was precisely why he did not entertain guests at home if he could avoid it. At the club, he could always leave. Guests trapped him in his own home.
    George stepped in to his rescue, on the pretense of also putting his cue away. “Dollop was robbed. So he says. But the room was locked and he’s the only one with the key.”
    “There are wagers that say he robbed himself, indeed!” Owl rubbed his hands together. “But you would know if he didn’t, wouldn’t you Blackledge?”
    Of course it was about a wager. “Why should I know?”
    “Because you’re so frightfully clever. With those thingamabob’s you make and all.”
    “Automaton.” He sought George’s eye. “Unfortunately, we have an engagement or I would stay and consider the matter.”
    “Yes!” George stepped between him and Owl. “Must dash. Sorry, old chap. If I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.”
    They escaped into the hallway. Though it was narrower than the billiard room, the pressure against Weatherby’s temples seemed to lessen. “I might have to decline billiards in the future.”
    “Just contrive to lose occasionally.”
    “I do.” He scowled. “And I don’t contrive to lose. You beat me honestly.”
    “Luck.” George glanced behind them. “Now that we’re clear of that dolt, I truly am surprised that you are not interested in the Dollop robbery. It’s likely the same person who robbed Lynch, Livingston, and Rothfuss.”
    “Again, I ask. Why am I interested in robberies?” Though, as he asked that, the memory of golden curls clouded his vision. He compressed his lips and steered them into one of the private conversation rooms.
    George flopped into one of the red leather armchairs. “Because, you like puzzles. And these are all places that were inaccessible and the robbery took place when the houses were full. ”
    “Define inaccessible.” Weatherby poured them both some brandy from the decanter on the sideboard and took a seat opposite him. “Locked door. No other access?”
    “Dollop’s was his dressing room. Upper story. Two locked doors, the bedroom and the closet, both of which were still locked. It hardly seems likely that a thief would relock the doors.”
    “If you wanted to delay discovery, it would be an excellent strategy.” He leaned back in his chair, picturing the woman and the ease with which she lifted herself out his skylight. If he could figure out who she was going to rob next, he could see her again. And when, exactly, had that become a goal? It was foolishness. He took a sip of the brandy. “Tell me more about these robberies.”
     
    The Monday following her robbery of the Rothfuss home, Helena sat in one of the hard wooden benches in the foyer of Thursmore Retreat, waiting for the director to see her. The afternoon light crept in through dusty windows. Helena held her shawl over the reticule, with its heavy purse of coins, in her lap. On the stairs to the upper floor, one of the inmates sat weeping, with one of the nursing sisters at his side. She had a heavily lined face under her wimple and patted the man’s back as mechanically as one of Lord Blackledge’s automaton.
    The door to the director’s office opened and his secretary stepped out.The secretary’s pate shone in light as