Read Online Quick, Amanda by Lie By Moonlight - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lie By Moonlight
Ads: Link
again.”
A sudden, sharp explosion reverberated through the house.
The roar of the pistol shocked the boy into immobility for a few seconds. He knew what had
happened but he could not bring himself to accept the truth.
Down below, the door of the study opened abruptly. He stood, frozen, in the shadows at the top
of the stairs and watched the stranger move through the light of the gas lamp that burned on the
desk behind him.
In spite of the boy’s horror, some part of him automatically cataloged the details of the killer’s
appearance. Blond hair, whiskers, an expensively cut coat.
The man looked toward the staircase.
The boy was certain that the stranger was going to climb the stairs and kill him. He knew it as
surely as he knew that his father was dead.
The stranger put one booted foot on the bottom step.
“I know you’re awake up there, young man. Been a tragic accident,I’m afraid. Your father just
took his own life. Come on down here. I’ll take care of you.”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
The boy stopped breathing altogether, trying to make himself one more shadow among many.
The killer started up the steps. Then he hesitated.
“Bloody hell, the housekeeper,” he muttered on another hoarse cough.
The boy watched him turn and go back down the steps. The killer disappeared into the darkened
hall. He was going to check Mrs. Dalton’s rooms to see if she was there.
The boy knew what the killer did not. Mrs. Dalton was not in her rooms because she had been
given the night off. His father did not like any of the servants around when he conducted his illicit
business affairs.
When the stranger discovered that he had no need to worry about an adult witness, he would
come hunting for the one person who could tell the police what had happened tonight.
The boy looked over the railing and knew that he could not possibly make it down three flights of
stairs to the front door and out into the safety of the night before the killer returned.
He was trapped. . . .
7
Ambrose’s feat of magic went remarkably smoothly the following day. Concordia was more than merely
impressed with the timing and the coordination, she was awed. Surely there were very few men in the
world who could have organized such a vanishing act.
“The trick is to keep it as simple as possible,” Ambrose explained when he saw them off at the train
station. “And to remember that people see what they expect to see.”
The next thing she knew he had disappeared himself. But just before the train pulled out of the station,
she caught a glimpse of a scruffy-looking farmer climbing into one of the crowded third-class carriages.
Something about the way he moved told her that the man was Ambrose.
A few hours later, after a number of stops in small towns and villages along the way that afforded the
passengers the opportunity to stretch their legs, four well-bred young ladies and their teacher descended
from a first-class carriage into a busy London station. They immediately got into a cab. The vehicle
melted into the swollen traffic and the afternoon haze.
An hour later, four working-class youths emerged from a thronged shopping arcade. They were dressed
in caps, trousers, mufflers and coats. They sauntered in the wake of a flower seller in a tattered cloak.
The small group drifted through a busy vegetable market and climbed into an empty farmer’s cart. A
tarp was stretched over the back of the wagon to conceal the passengers.
Through an opening in the canvas, Concordia caught occasional glimpses of the neighborhoods through
which they traveled. Within a short time, the bustle and clatter of the market gave way to a maze of tiny
lanes and cramped, dark streets. Scenes of prosperous shops and modest houses followed. That view, in
turn, eventually gave way to one of a neighborhood of elegant mansions and fine squares.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter,
A sudden, sharp explosion reverberated through the house.
The roar of the pistol shocked the boy into immobility for a few seconds. He knew what had
happened but he could not bring himself to accept the truth.
Down below, the door of the study opened abruptly. He stood, frozen, in the shadows at the top
of the stairs and watched the stranger move through the light of the gas lamp that burned on the
desk behind him.
In spite of the boy’s horror, some part of him automatically cataloged the details of the killer’s
appearance. Blond hair, whiskers, an expensively cut coat.
The man looked toward the staircase.
The boy was certain that the stranger was going to climb the stairs and kill him. He knew it as
surely as he knew that his father was dead.
The stranger put one booted foot on the bottom step.
“I know you’re awake up there, young man. Been a tragic accident,I’m afraid. Your father just
took his own life. Come on down here. I’ll take care of you.”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
The boy stopped breathing altogether, trying to make himself one more shadow among many.
The killer started up the steps. Then he hesitated.
“Bloody hell, the housekeeper,” he muttered on another hoarse cough.
The boy watched him turn and go back down the steps. The killer disappeared into the darkened
hall. He was going to check Mrs. Dalton’s rooms to see if she was there.
The boy knew what the killer did not. Mrs. Dalton was not in her rooms because she had been
given the night off. His father did not like any of the servants around when he conducted his illicit
business affairs.
When the stranger discovered that he had no need to worry about an adult witness, he would
come hunting for the one person who could tell the police what had happened tonight.
The boy looked over the railing and knew that he could not possibly make it down three flights of
stairs to the front door and out into the safety of the night before the killer returned.
He was trapped. . . .
7
Ambrose’s feat of magic went remarkably smoothly the following day. Concordia was more than merely
impressed with the timing and the coordination, she was awed. Surely there were very few men in the
world who could have organized such a vanishing act.
“The trick is to keep it as simple as possible,” Ambrose explained when he saw them off at the train
station. “And to remember that people see what they expect to see.”
The next thing she knew he had disappeared himself. But just before the train pulled out of the station,
she caught a glimpse of a scruffy-looking farmer climbing into one of the crowded third-class carriages.
Something about the way he moved told her that the man was Ambrose.
A few hours later, after a number of stops in small towns and villages along the way that afforded the
passengers the opportunity to stretch their legs, four well-bred young ladies and their teacher descended
from a first-class carriage into a busy London station. They immediately got into a cab. The vehicle
melted into the swollen traffic and the afternoon haze.
An hour later, four working-class youths emerged from a thronged shopping arcade. They were dressed
in caps, trousers, mufflers and coats. They sauntered in the wake of a flower seller in a tattered cloak.
The small group drifted through a busy vegetable market and climbed into an empty farmer’s cart. A
tarp was stretched over the back of the wagon to conceal the passengers.
Through an opening in the canvas, Concordia caught occasional glimpses of the neighborhoods through
which they traveled. Within a short time, the bustle and clatter of the market gave way to a maze of tiny
lanes and cramped, dark streets. Scenes of prosperous shops and modest houses followed. That view, in
turn, eventually gave way to one of a neighborhood of elegant mansions and fine squares.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter,
Similar Books
