Marcus’ eyes darkened with grim memory that set Skeeter’s skin to crawling. “In the sewers,” he said harshly. “He had a place in the sewers, a room where he kept Ianira and other things, pieces of people he had butchered, a terrible place . . .”
“Good God,” Malcolm breathed, eyes going wide as realization dawned, “the sewers! Of course no one could catch the Ripper. He was using the sewers to escape!”
“To hell with Jack the Ripper!” Armstrong said in a cold, hard voice. “How did you find us?” The revolver still tracked Skeeter’s chest.
Footsteps on the stairs distracted everyone but Armstrong, who said sharply, “Get back upstairs!”
An instant later, Ianira rushed past Armstrong and flung both arms around Skeeter’s neck, tears streaming, as she hugged him, Misia and all. “Skeeter! You are safe . . . We have missed you!”
She kissed Skeeter’s cheek, then hugged Margo and Malcolm in turn, eyes brilliant with the tears streaming down her face. “It is good to have old friends among us again! But how did you find us? Noah and Jenna have been very careful and our hiding place was well chosen.”
Skeeter handed Artemisia to her father, lips twitching into a faint smile. “We tracked you through your money, actually.”
“Our what?” Jenna gasped.
Skeeter grinned. “Your money. The banknotes you picked up on station when you exchanged your up-time currency.”
Her brow wrinkled above the ludicrous mutton chops Paula Booker had given her. “Banknotes? How in the world could you trace me through banknotes?”