In the Barrister's Chambers Read Free Page A

door.
    â€œShouldn’t your father’s butler have opened the door by now?” he asked after a full minute had passed.
    â€œHodges is well into his eighties. His hearing isn’t what it used to be,” she explained.
    Just like Lord Lyndale, he thought. He would take troubled students under his wing and keep on an elderly butler when most other members of society would have let the old servant out to pasture years ago.
    Evelyn fished into her reticule, searching for her key. The task was made harder by the dusk, with only the dim glow of the street lamp to aid her. Finally she withdrew the key and was inserting it into the lock, when the door pushed easily open.
    â€œThat’s odd,” she said. “Hodges must have forgotten to lock the door.”
    They stepped inside the vestibule. It was dim here as well, and the lingering scent of a pipe filled the space. The distinctive smell of the tobacco triggered a memory of Emmanuel Darlington at the podium in the classroom, pipe in hand.
    â€œFather?” Evelyn called out.
    Jack took a step forward and bumped into a long-case clock in the corner. He heard Evelyn shuffle forward, then the sound of flint strike iron as she sought to light a lamp.
    Hands outstretched so as to avoid walking into anything more, he made to reach her side, then tripped over something on the floor. He barely registered what sounded like a low moan, when Evelyn screamed and something shattered across the floor.
    Jack twisted around, just in time to see a figure dart forward. Jack launched himself at the shape, grasping a fistful of coat, when a heavy object came crashing down upon his temple.

Chapter 3
    Jack fell to his knees, his head pounding in pain. He could hear footsteps racing out the door and down the porch steps.
    â€œEvelyn!” he shouted.
    â€œOver here.” Her voice was faint.
    Jack crawled over to her side. “Are you hurt?”
    â€œI’m all right . . . but my arm . . . I think I cut it on something when he pushed me down.”
    â€œWhere is the lamp?”
    â€œI dropped it.”
    He felt his way across the floor until he found the lamp and the tinderbox. As soon as he lit the lamp, Evelyn cried out, “Hodges!”
    She flew to the side of the fallen butler. A crimson trail of blood oozed down his forehead and stained his white shirtfront. “Is he dead?”
    Jack knelt down and checked the elderly man’s pulse. “No, but he needs a doctor.” Raising the lamp, he studied the door lock. “The door is not damaged. The intruder must have knocked, then forced his way inside when Hodges opened the door.”
    Evelyn’s eyes widened like saucers, and she raised a hand to cover her heart. “Good Lord! What about Father?”
    She scrambled to her feet and started forward when Jack grasped her arm. She cried out in pain, and he realized she was bleeding. Looking around, he spotted a shattered vase on the floor. A jagged shard was embedded in her forearm.
    â€œWe need to get this out and stanch the bleeding.”
    â€œNo . . . my father . . .”
    His gut clenched. “Stay with Hodges. I’ll be right back.”
    â€œNo!”
    Her glazed eyes revealed her panic. He understood her need to find her father. “I’ll be a minute only to summon the constable and a doctor. Then we will go together and search for your father.”
    â€œDo you think there are more intruders?”
    â€œNo. They would have made their exit in the dark while we were down.”
    She nodded at his explanation.
    He wasted no time taking to the street. It was late, but Piccadilly was a busy, upscale neighborhood. He spotted a hackney cab within seconds and flagged down the driver. “An intruder was just in Lord Lyndale’s house. Summon the constable and the closest doctor,” Jack directed, tossing a coin up to the driver who caught it in midair.
    Jack ran back inside the house.
    â€œWe should check