“You do have your camera running, don’t you?” Malcolm whispered, referring to the tiny digital videocamera hidden beneath Margo’s elegant bustle, its wire snaking up her back to a miniature lens concealed in her brooch.
“I turned it on while we were still in the carriage.” When Malcolm started to move closer, she grasped his arm. “No!”
He glanced down, surprised.
“If Marcus spots you, wanna bet he’ll bolt? He could’ve called on friends for help while he was still on the station, but he didn’t. After everything that’s happened, he’ll be too terrified, Malcolm, to trust anyone.”
“Anyone except Benny Catlin,” Malcolm growled. “I’d like to know the reason for that.”
“So would I. If they’re in London, want to bet Ianira and the girls are, too?”
“No bets,” Malcolm shook his head. “But how the deuce did they slip through the Britannia without tickets?”
“That Time Tours driver who was shot, up at the Picadilly Hotel, said Benny Catlin smuggled a woman through in his luggage. We’ve been assuming she was another student who couldn’t get a ticket, or maybe that she and Benny were actually reporters. But what if that woman was Ianira Cassondra? And maybe Marcus and the girls were in some of the other trunks and got out before the police opened the luggage?”
“However they got here,” Malcolm said quietly, “the main question is why they would come with two gentlemen they hardly know. It doesn’t look to me like Marcus is here against his will.”
“No, it doesn’t look that way to me, either.”
“Oh, bother!” Malcolm said abruptly, noticing another newcomer. “That’s all we need, tonight!”