Page 85 of A Dangerous Vision

She gritted her teeth. “I could be useful, and you said that you intend to use my suggestion to employ deception.”

Gideon was not sure whether to find it amusing or offensive that she thought he could not come up with such a tactic on his own, but he could not deny how much she had assisted him on the case.

Still, if Lance Pennington had murdered his brother and was as unstable as Mrs. Devlin described, he couldn’t be sure what the man might do to save his own neck.

“If he denies his involvement, I might be able to see the truth.”

Gideon would never deny how useful Electra’s abilities had been in the past, but it never made him feel better about her involvement in a murder case.

“Please, Gideon. I want to see this case to its conclusion, so that there is not a single doubt of Kit’s or Cordelia’s involvement.”

Gideon observed the stubborn set of her jaw, the flare of determination in her eyes.

“Let us not waste any more time then.”

They started off toward the cab stand again and she did not crow with triumph, but he did not miss the look of satisfaction on her face when he glanced her way.

At Mount Street, Mr. Burton greeted them with interest and a touch of wariness.

“Is Mr. Pennington at home, Burton?” Gideon spoke with no nicety now, and the butler seemed to note the urgency in his tone.

The elderly man nodded, led them inside, and took their coats and Gideon’s hat.

“He has a visitor, Inspector.” Burton eyed Electra.

“This is Miss Poole,” Gideon told him.

“The two of you may wait in the drawing room, and I will inform Mr. Pennington that you’ve come to call.”

They stepped into the room, and Gideon turned back to the servant.

“Is Miss Faraday at home?”

“I believe she has retired for the evening.”

Before the man could withdraw, Gideon said, “This is a pressing matter, Mr. Burton, and I will remain until Mr. Pennington is free to speak to me.”

“Yes, Inspector.” Burton gave him a solemn look and then withdrew.

Gideon could not bear to sit. A restless energy filled him because the answers seemed within his grasp.

Electra didn’t seem inclined to sit either. She examined the room, the art on the walls, the knickknacks on the mantel and various side tables.

“I wonder who he is meeting with at such a late hour,” she murmured as she perused.

Gideon was simply pleased the man was at home and they would not have to search for him at the theatre or his other lodgings. Or that he had not attempted to abscond and leave London.

A fear that Mrs. Devlin might forewarn him in some way had crossed his mind, but she could not have arrived at Mount Street, nor sent a messenger, any more quickly than their cab journey to Pennington’s address.

The quiet of the house was almost unnerving, but for Electra’s soft footfalls on the thick carpet and the ticking of the clock on the mantel.

A few minutes passed, and Gideon stepped toward the drawing room door, which Burton had left open a few inches.

He wondered what was delaying the butler.

Voices carried down hall and he heard someone coughing. The sound was low, rasping, and it sounded very like what he had heard the day he’d visited Gordon Callister.

Gideon turned back to find Electra watching him. “Wait here.”