Page 80 of From the Ashes
Lincoln didn't speak.
"There is no reason," Marchbank answered for him. "Besides, why would I get my revenge on people who had nothing to do with that incident?"
"Vengeance against their kind," I said with a shrug. "Because you couldn't kill the hypnotist himself."
"That's the flaw in your theory. Ididkill the hypnotist."
Chapter 16
Igasped. It was the only sound in the heavy silence.
Marchbank cast me a flat smile. "It's true. I killed him soon after he directed my father to throw himself off the bridge. So there you have it. I meted out justice all those years ago, so I have no need to do so now. Not that you're still investigating the case, however. Are you?"
Lincoln met Marchbank's steely glare with one of his own. "You knew the killer?"
"My father wrote about a fellow in his diary. A fellow so convincing and compelling that he could talk my father into doing the strangest things. Things that went against his character. My father guessed that he was a hypnotist, although he'd never met one before and not known they were real. He wrote that the hypnotist didn't want his details recorded in our files, but Father had done so anyway, believing it for the greater good. He would tell the hypnotist that day, as was fair. That was the last entry. I came across the diary in his things after his death, and knew what must have happened as soon as I read it. So I killed the hypnotist, accidentally, of course. I confronted him over my father's death, but he began his hypnotizing chant, so I hit him with a fire iron to stop him. He collapsed and didn't wake."
"Did you question him first?"
"No."
"Make inquiries of independent witnesses?"
"No."
Lincoln sat back and I could swear I heard him draw a sharp breath.
Shock rippled through me, too. Lord Marchbank had killed a man based on very thin evidence. Accident or not, he'd committed a violent act. I wasn't sure how to take the news. Marchbank may not be the upstanding gentleman I thought him to be.
"There was no doubt in my mind, Fitzroy," Marchbank said. "Not after reading the diary. You would do the same."
"I would have got answers out of him first."
"That part I don't dispute. I wish I'd spoken to him about his hypnotism, and how it worked, why he was like that. His name was Christopher Eckhart, if you'd like to research his family."
"You should have given it to me earlier. It should have been recorded in the files, his family connections investigated and noted."
Marchbank acknowledged this with a nod of his head, but offered no reason for leaving it until now to inform Lincoln. "The thing is, Fitzroy, you assumed that I had a motive for killing those supernaturals, and Charlie, but I'm not the only one who worries about what people like her can do. Ever since Frankenstein showed us the possibilities of magic, and summoning Estelle Pearson proved how badly things can go wrong, the entire ministry has been on tenterhooks. Wealldistrust those who hold such great power over us. Charlie may be an honorable person, but not everyone is like her, and she's not incorruptible."
"I'm quite sure I am, thank you," I snapped.
"Everyone should be wary of supernaturals, even other supernaturals. Even you. Both of you."
"I am fully aware of what people who possess magic can do," I said. "As is Lincoln. No one is more aware. But that doesn't mean we can murder all of them. Just because a person holds a knife, it doesn't mean they're going to stab someone."
Marchbank held up his hands. "I agree. That wasn't the point I was trying to make."
"Someone, however, disagrees."
"They do," he added quietly with a frown at Lincoln. I half expected Marchbank to tell us his own suspicions, perhaps even mention his thoughts about the other committee members, but he did not.
"I will be bringing the supernaturals back to London," Lincoln assured him. "After the killer is caught."
"A task that has now fallen to me. Unless…"
Lincoln handed him a single page document from his pocket. "My report."
Marchbank hesitated then unfolded it. After a quick read, he flipped it over, but the back was blank. "Is this it?"
