The Prisoner's Key

by C. J. Archer

  The warehouse smelled like vinegar. The bitter stench seemed to come from the walls themselves but more likely it was from the barrels stacked up at the far end.

  "Get some light," Mr. Stanhope told Reggie. "Then shut the door."

  Reggie lumbered around the warehouse, igniting the lanterns. He was bigger than I first thought, his hunched shoulders and lowered head deceiving me. He'd shown no qualms in hitting Matt and had not said a word the entire time, not even to acknowledge Mr. Stanhope's bidding. He simply did as ordered.

  My hope lay with the coachman. He stood by, watching his brother-in-law from beneath his hat brim. Still he didn't remove his hat, despite being indoors.

  "Please, don't do this, sir," I begged him. "Mr. Stanhope is a murderer."

  The coachman said nothing.

  "My husband will be frantic." Tears pricked the backs of my eyes at the thought of Matt going mad with worry. "Please, sir. Don't participate in this madness."

  "It's too late," the coachman said heavily. "I made my mistake some time ago. Now I have to continue or go to prison. Believe me, Lady, they don't treat men like me well in jail."

  As a former prison guard, the other prisoners would be brutal. But I made no comment, not wanting him to know I knew who he was and why he was involved. If he thought he could walk away, there was a good chance he would be sympathetic and fetch Matt.

  "You will release her, won't you?" the coachman said to Mr. Stanhope.

  "Once her husband convinces the police of my innocence," Mr. Stanhope said.

  "What if he can't? What if they don't believe him? Not all of Scotland Yard's inspectors are fools."

  Mr. Stanhope shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. You can go now."

  "Don't leave me here with them," I pleaded. "He'll kill me, just as he killed the money lender."

  The coachman hesitated then shook his head. "Not my concern."

  "Keep your ears open, and come back when the police state they no longer think I did it," Mr. Stanhope said.

  The coachman nodded then left. The door slammed shut behind him.

  "This is madness," I said to Mr. Stanhope. "How long do you plan on keeping me here?"

  "As long as necessary."

  "Someone will come. Someone will want this vinegar, or make a new delivery."

  "Not for another week."

  "You plan to stay in here for an entire week? You are mad."

  "If I am, then it's you who made me this way. You and your husband." He strode up to me, stopping a mere inch away. The light from the gas lamp behind my head illuminated his eyes and cast shadows in the hollows of his cheeks. With his bared teeth, he did indeed look like a madman, or a devil risen from Hell.

  "We were only trying to help the police," I said as calmly as possible. "You cannot blame your fate on us."

  "You told Ingles about the money!" He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "You told my wife!"

  My watch chimed, just a single pure note that was out of place in the dim, wretched warehouse. Mr. Stanhope released me. I clutched my reticule and slowly eased the drawstring open. If the watch had chimed then it might also save me, just as my previous watch had done. I slipped thumb and finger inside the opening and felt for it.

  Mr. Stanhope ripped the reticule from my hands. "What was that infernal sound?"

  "My watch," I said quickly. "It's broken and chimes at odd times."

  He pulled out the watch and held it up to the light. It chimed again.

  "Damned annoyance." He went to throw it.

  "No!" I grabbed his wrist. "Please don't. It was a gift from my husband. I'll stop it chiming, I promise."

  He jerked free and tossed the watch at me. "See that it doesn't make any more noises." He strode over to Reggie, lurking in the shadowy corner. "If the watch makes another sound, destroy it. If she talks again, make her stop. I don't care how."

  I swallowed my gasp and clutched the watch to my chest as Reggie lurched toward me. The watch warmed to my touch, but it wasn't as reassuring as I'd hoped. My previous watch only saved me when I was in immediate danger and I didn't expect this one to be any different. If I threw it at my captors now, while they weren't directly harming me, it would do nothing. It may well do nothing no matter what they were doing to me. I couldn't rely on it to work at all, let alone the way my old one had.

  Reggie crowded me, backing me into the barrels. I sat but he did not move away. The stink of his sweat overwhelmed me as much as his physical presence, but it was his vacant stare that chilled me. Without the capacity to think, he couldn't feel, and if he didn't feel sympathy then he would do whatever Stanhope demanded.

  My watch remained silent, thank God. I clutched it so tightly that my fingers became numb, yet I still didn't relax my grip. I tried to remain as still as possible, not wanting to catch Mr. Stanhope's attention. He paced the floor, head bowed, his teeth biting his lower lip. His footsteps and Reggie's breathing were the only sounds in the warehouse.

  The light filtering through the high narrow windows faded away altogether. The lanterns struggled to keep the darkness at bay, only managing to create deeper and more ominous shadows.

  I wanted to check the time, but I wouldn't be able to see the watch's face. I guessed we'd been in the warehouse for forty minutes. If Matt had successfully convinced Brockwell to let Mr. Stanhope go, or pretend to, then this could be over soon. If Mr. Stanhope kept to his agreement of releasing me, that is. And if Matt could find some way to get the message to him.

  Too many ifs.

  A movement in a high, narrow window caught my attention but I didn't get a chance to register what it was. A gunshot rang out. Stanhope ducked. Reggie spun around and I shrank back, trying to see who'd fired and if anyone was hurt.

  My heart pounded, praying Matt had arrived yet not wanting it to be him either. If he got hurt…

  Another shot rang out, this time from Mr. Stanhope's pistol. The window shattered. It had been closed earlier, but now stood open. Shards of glass rained down on the floor below, shattering into thousands of pieces.

  "Get her, Reggie!" Mr. Stanhope shouted as he aimed at the window again. "She's our insurance!"

  Reggie grabbed my arm, pulling so hard my shoulder screamed in pain. I didn't cry out. I didn't want to worry Matt, or get him to change whatever plan he was enacting. Reggie swung me in front of him and whipped out a knife from his jacket. The blade raked the skin at my throat. I tried to steady my breaths, to sink away from the knife, but that only forced me back into Reggie's chest. The arm that snaked around my waist squeezed as if he wanted to cut me in half. My breathing labored to draw in air, and that only made the blade press harder.

  Mr. Stanhope squinted into the darkness, searching for the figure through the window. But there was no more movement there. No signs of life.

  Matt!

  The lock on the door suddenly clicked and the door itself crashed back on its hinges. Mr. Stanhope swung around, pistol at the ready.

  "Watch out!" I screamed.

  But no one entered. There was no sound from the doorway or the window.

  Mr. Stanhope moved to a position where he could see through the door. That was his mistake. The person at the window fired another shot into the warehouse.

  Mr. Stanhope fired back.

  In the same instant, the figure at the door burst inside and ran at Stanhope, crashing into him, tackling him to the ground. I knew without seeing his face that it was Matt.

  My heart kicked into a rapid rhythm as panic set in. Matt might be stronger and younger but he wasn't armed.

  I needn't have worried. Matt wrestled Stanhope's hands above his head, rendering the pistol useless. He should have rendered him unconscious instead. He could still give orders.

  "Reggie! Kill her!"

  "No!" Matt released Stanhope.

  But it was too late. The muscles in Reggie's shoulders and arms tensed, and the blade bit into my skin.

  "Shoot him!" Matt shouted as he raced toward me
. "Shoot Reggie NOW!"

  Stanhope aimed his pistol at Matt. He'd be dead before he reached me.

  I swung my watch upward. It arced behind me, out of my line of sight.

  A gunshot rang out.

  "Matt!" I screamed.

  But it was Stanhope who crumpled to the floor. Matt was very much alive, although his ashen face worried me. But he wasn't bleeding.

  Reggie suddenly released me. He dropped the knife and crashed back into the barrels. They rolled away as he too collapsed, my watch chain wrapped around his neck.

  No! Please no, don't be dead because of me. Reggie was Stanhope's creature, too simple and loyal to think for himself. I didn't want to kill him.

  I reached for my watch and tugged. The chain released him and he gasped in air, choking and coughing as he rolled over. I closed my eyes and blew out a shuddery breath of relief.

  Matt's arms surrounded me and pulled me close. His hands stroked my hair, touched my face, and his voice filled me. "It's all right," he murmured. "You're all right, it's over."

  It was soothing, his arms a comfort, yet I couldn't stop shaking. I placed my palm to his racing heart in an effort to calm it, and my own.

  "Is Stanhope…?" I swallowed the rest of my sentence.

  Mr. Stanhope groaned in response.

  "Course he ain't dead," came Willie's voice.

  I glanced up to see her leaning through the window, her gun pointed at Stanhope. She grinned at me.

  "If I wanted to kill him, he'd be dead already," she went on. "But Matt said to maim him unless killing were the only option." She waggled the gun. "Matt, get his pistol so I can come down."

  Matt kissed my forehead then did as she ordered. He checked the barrel for bullets then pointed it at Stanhope. "Reggie, get over here where I can see you both."

  Reggie knelt by his groaning master, the red mark of my watch's chain clearly visible above his neckerchief. Stanhope groaned again and clutched his arm. Blood dampened his sleeve and smeared the floor but not enough to be worrisome.

  "Get up, coward," Willie said as she entered through the door. "It's just a scratch."

  I flung my arms around her and hugged her. "You saved our lives."

  "I only saved Matt's," she said quietly. "I had time for just one shot and I reckoned if I saved him, he could then save you. It weren't an easy choice." She blinked watery eyes at me, every last shred of her cockiness gone.

  "It was the wisest decision. You made the right choice." I hugged her again.

  She squeezed me tightly then released me, almost pushing me away. "Don't go all soft on me, India. It were nothing."

  "It wasn't nothing. We'd be in serious trouble if your shot had missed."

  She pushed the front brim of her hat up with her finger. "I ain't missed a shot that easy since I were big enough to hold a Colt."

  "Ha!" came Duke's voice from the doorway. "You boasting again, Willie?"

  She grinned. "You missed all the fun."

  Duke entered the warehouse with Brockwell and six constables. The inspector's eyes widened upon seeing Willie still holding the gun.

  "That was just like the old days back home," she said. "Only no one died. Pity."

  The inspector's gaze narrowed ever so slightly. "You just happened to have your gun on you?"

  "What's the point having one if you don't take it with you?" She winked.

  He scratched his sideburns. "An interesting yet dangerous philosophy."

  Willie's jovial mood evaporated. "I could've killed him if I wanted, but I didn't. I was saving you from the commissioner's questions, Inspector." She stormed out of the warehouse, trailed by Duke.

  The inspector gave orders to his men to escort Reggie outside but not Stanhope.

  "You thought putting the life of Mrs. Glass in danger would stop me arresting you?" Brockwell said. "All you achieved was another charge against your name, and a very angry husband."

  Matt had hardly moved since grabbing Stanhope's gun. He stood over Stanhope, his chest still rising and falling with his heavy breathing. I took his hand and rubbed my thumb along his. He finally lowered the pistol and drew me to his side. He kissed my forehead.

  "Are you hurt?" he murmured.

  "No. You?"

  "I don't think so."

  I stood on my toes to whisper in his ear. "I'll check you over later. Thoroughly."

  His lips twitched into a hint of a smile.

  "How did you find us?" Stanhope snapped at Matt.

  "I went to Ingles and asked if he knew of a place you might go. I assumed the factory somewhere, but he claimed he hadn't seen you arrive and he'd been there all afternoon. He suggested one of the warehouses. There are two leased to Ingles," he told Brockwell. "This one and another at St. Katherine's docks. We came here first after a brief visit home to get Willie and send Duke to Scotland Yard."

  His hand squeezed mine as he drew it to his lips. He pressed a deep, longing kiss to it.

  "Duke told me about your visit to Mrs. Stanhope," Brockwell said.

  "You should have left my wife out of this!" Stanhope growled. "She is innocent!"

  "And you have just ruined her life with your actions," I told him. "How will she recover from the shame?"

  His nostrils flared, and he lowered his head.

  "You killed McGuire because you couldn't repay him," Brockwell said.

  "And because McGuire threatened to tell Ingles about the embezzlement," Matt added. "McGuire had his own debts that needed to be repaid. He was desperate and probably afraid of his creditor."

  Stanhope grunted. "He should have been afraid of me."

  "Who was his creditor?" Matt asked.

  "I told you, I don't know."

  "Who?" Matt snarled.

  "I don't know!"

  "Why did you set up Fabian Charbonneau to take the blame?" I asked. "What has he ever done to you?"

  "I've never met him. He wasn't important, just a convenience." He wiped his fingers across his sweaty forehead. "I read about him going to prison in the newspaper. The article named his creditor as McGuire, and that's when I first got the idea. One of the Newgate jailors owed me a favor."

  "Reggie's brother-in-law," I said.

  Stanhope gave a single nod. "Dean. I asked him about the Frenchman and he told me the man was convinced he wouldn't be there much longer. All the jailors thought he was mad, but I wondered if there was some truth in it. Even so, I forgot about him for several hours. I was not in my rightful state of mind that afternoon. It wasn't until Dean came to me and claimed the Frenchman had escaped that I hatched my plan."

  "Was this before or after you met with McGuire in the alley the first time?" Matt asked.

  "After but before I— Before the second time."

  "Go on," Brockwell said. "What did you do once you heard of the escape?"

  "It was easy enough to find out where the Frenchman was staying after the newspaper report of his incarceration. It even pinpointed the street he lived on. I broke into his house and stole the handkerchief. You can guess how the rest of my evening transpired."

  "Indeed," Brockwell bit off. "You met McGuire a second time, after midnight, and killed him, leaving behind the handkerchief to incriminate Charbonneau."

  "Yes," Stanhope said without a hint of remorse. He reminded me of Reggie, with his vacant stare and expressionless features. They were suffering a loss of mental capacity, yet it had come about in quite different ways. I wondered if Stanhope's would be as permanent or if he would come to his senses again.

  "Did you hit my wife outside your house?" Matt snapped.

  "Not me. Reggie did it. I was worried about her speaking to my wife and told him so. He took it upon himself to try and stop her, but your coachman—"

  Matt punched him in the jaw.

  "Glass! Desist!" Brockwell said. "Remember you are a gentleman."

  "Not at this moment," Matt growled.

  I took his hand again and held it tightly.

  The blow triggered something in Sta
nhope. His eyes suddenly brightened. "Reggie is unpredictable. I can't control him. Indeed, I lied earlier when I said I killed McGuire. Reggie took it upon himself after I told him I had to repay the money and couldn't."

  "Enough!" Matt shouted. "Take responsibility for your own actions."

  Stanhope ducked his head, cowering. When he realized Matt wouldn't hit him again, he straightened. He ought to have remained vigilant.

  I stepped up to him, lifted my skirts, and gave him a swift kick to the shin. "That's for manipulating Reggie."

  Stanhope grunted and rubbed his leg.

  Brockwell ordered his men to take the Stanhope and Reggie away in the police carriage. "Arrest the Newgate jailor by the name of Dean, too."

  We joined Willie and Duke outside, while Brockwell remained behind to gather evidence inside the warehouse. Willie leaned against the carriage, her arms crossed, her hat pulled low.

  "She's in a foul mood," Duke muttered to us. "On account of Brockwell calling her dangerous."

  "He's not entirely wrong on that score," Matt muttered back. "But on this occasion, I'm glad I didn't have to waste time waiting for her to fetch her gun. Another moment later and…" He blinked at me. "This could have turned out differently."

  I stood on my toes and kissed him lightly on the lips. He smiled properly for the first time in days.

  "If Willie shot Stanhope, then what happened to Reggie?" Duke asked. "How'd he end up on the floor?"

  I opened my fingers to reveal the watch. I wasn't willing to put it away yet. "The chain wrapped around his throat when he attacked me."

  "Good to see your magic works like it used to."

  "Ha!" Willie barked, proving she was listening. "And Jasper thinks I carry a dangerous weapon."

  Brockwell emerged from the warehouse but paused as he spotted Willie. She pulled her hat brim lower and turned her face away.

  He cleared his throat. "Seems like I'll have to word my report carefully."

  "You don't have to on my account," she said. "Tell your superiors I shot him. I don't care."

  "I can't do that."

  "Why not?"

  "Because if they find out you and me are…acquainted, they'll tell me to give you up. And I'm not ready to do that."