Page 35 of The Journal of a Thousand Years
“Well?” Huon prompted. “What have you decided to do?”
The butler appeared in the doorway. “A Detective Inspector Bailey to see you, sir.”
Cyclops pushed past the butler. He breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing me. “I hoped I’d find you here, Sylvia. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Your landlady said you’d gone, Daisy wasn’t at home, and the library was locked.”
Huon indicated the sideboard. “Would you like some breakfast?”
Cyclops didn’t seem to hear him. He looked pained.
I rose, although my legs weakened at the sight of Cyclops. I’d never seen him look so worried. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“It’s Gabe. He’s been abducted.”
CHAPTER 8
Ifelt sick. I couldn’t breathe. All my efforts to keep Gabe safe, and he’d been kidnapped anyway. My body started to tremble, and I suddenly felt cold to my bones.
Someone guided me to sit again. “Alex? Willie?” I managed to ask.
“Out searching for him,” Cyclops said. “So are most of Scotland Yard.”
I pressed a hand to my throat as bile rose.
Cyclops crouched before me. “The kidnapper won’t harm him. They need him alive and well to learn more about his magic.”
“Isn’t he artless?” Petra asked.
Neither Cyclops nor I explained. He rested a hand on my arm. “I wanted to find you to tell you in person, and to ask for your help, too.”
I sat forward. “How can I help?”
“Sally, the young maid who works for Gabe, saw one of the men just after she arrived this morning. But she’s too scared to give an account, so Alex told me over the telephone. I thought perhaps you could coax something out of her.”
I shot to my feet. “Let’s go.”
“What can we do, Detective?” Huon asked.
Cyclops placed his hat on his head. “Nothing at this point.”
We left the house without saying goodbye, only pausing long enough to collect my two cases from the entrance hall. Cyclops placed them in the back seat of the waiting police vehicle. I sat beside them while Cyclops got in the front. He instructed the driver to take us to Gabe’s house.
When we reached number sixteen Park Street, it was clear that an incident had occurred. Constables kept watch from the pavement and the front door stood open. Murray ushered us inside.
“Anything?” Cyclops prompted him.
The footman shook his head. “No, sir. Sally hasn’t stopped crying. Mrs. Bristow is at her wits’ end, which is making Sally more scared. She says she can’t remember a thing, except that the man was big. The sketch artist has arrived, but he can’t work until Sally remembers something.”
A thud upstairs had us all looking up at the ceiling.
“The sergeant is leading the search for clues in Mr. Glass’s bedroom,” Murray went on.
“You seem to have it under control. Well done.” Cyclops clapped the former policeman on the shoulder before taking the staircase to check on the searchers.
Murray led me through the door near the back of the entrance hall and down the service stairs to the basement. We found all the other servants in the room where they took their meals, along with a man I assumed was the police artist going by the sketchbook in front of him. He stood upon my entry.
“Miss Ashe!” Mrs. Ling, the cook, grasped both my hands. “We are glad you are here.”
I suddenly felt the need for maternal comforting and drew her into a hug. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”
