A Study in Sable Read Free Page A

correct.”
    The raven nodded gravely. So did the sylph who suddenly showed her dainty self just over the gentleman’s shoulder, hovering in midair, wings vibrating so fast they were a blur. Nan ignored the sylph. The gentleman did not believe in them, and it was not in her best interest right now to mention the Air Elemental.
    The gentleman had recovered his composure so quickly only someone like Nan would have known he had ever lost it in the first place. “These are clever conjuring tricks, Miss Killian,” he said dismissively. “I get dozens of letters from tedious people with equally tedious problems they wish me to solve, most of them are alike, and it takes no great effort to imagine what those problems might be. And as for the Von Dietersdorfs—you could easily have read the first page of the letter from where you sit, as it is pinned to the mantelpiece with my pocketknife.”
    â€œBut the second, third, and fourth pages, sir?” Nan retorted. “I think not. I got that information from your own mind. The Von Dietersdorfs wrote you from Berlin before arriving in London. The father’s written English is excellent, and his spoken English nearly as good. You know Herr von Dietersdorf wrote this himself rather than employing a professional translator because he occasionally made the mistake of putting the verb at the end of his sentence, which no professional translator would ever do. The letter was written on stationery from the Hotel Berghof, which you yourself have stayed in, and know to be an establishment that caters to the wealthy merchant class. When you stayed at the Berghof last, which was about a yearand a half ago, your room was on the west side of the fourth floor; you engaged it because it had an excellent view of a room directly across from it so that you could follow every movement of a man you were tracking, for purposes of your own which you did not divulge to anyone. Shall I go on?”
    The slight dilation of the gentleman’s pupils showed she had hit the mark squarely;
no one,
not even his closest friends, knew he had been in Berlin at that time, much less what hotel and what room he had stayed in, or for what purpose. He had, indeed, not told anyone
why
he had been there—or half a dozen other places that year.
    â€œEither you are the most remarkable agent I have ever met, Miss Killian,” he said, slowly, “Or—”
    â€œI am not an agent of the gentleman you were concerned with, as you should know, since your brother sent us.” She shrugged.
“When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,”
she said, daring to quote him. “Improbable as it may be, the simple truth is that I have the psychical Talent for reading thoughts, and I have performed my part of our audition for you by reading yours.”
    She sensed a veritable torrent of questions cascading through his mind, then. Chiefest among them was the dreadful worry—
how many more like her are there?
That was paired with an even deeper concern—
and are any employed by my enemies? Especially—him?
    â€œYou, sir, are uniquely gifted to prevent anyone from learning thoughts you do not wish them to know,” she continued, answering the question that he had not asked, even to himself, yet. “Your will is uncommonly strong, disciplined, and well ordered. If you are in a position where you fear your thoughts may be overlooked, all you need do is concentrate your mind on something trivial and appropriate; a complicated calculation, perhaps, or a chemical formulation, or the complete route you took to arrive at your destination. Keep your mind focused on that, and that alone, and it will be as if you are shouting the information. It would take another Talent with a mind as sharp as yours to be able to discern any of your thoughts past that barrier.”
    Instantly, the gentleman’s mind filled