Free The Future Door by Jason Lethcoe Page A

that’s all. She’s a nice woman and very . . . generous.”
    But Griffin had to stifle a laugh, knowing that his uncle was trying to hide his obvious feelings. And although Griffin felt happy that Rupert had met someone who had struck him with such immediate feelings of affection, there was a tiny part of him that was bothered by the encounter. There was something about Miss Pepper that was familiar and that he didn’t like. Something troubling that he couldn’t put his finger on . . .
    And it wasn’t until much later that night, after all the dishes had been cleared away and all the sweets and savories eaten, long after he and his uncle had retired to bed, that he realized that what troubled him wasn’t something he “couldn’t put a finger on.” It was something that Miss Charlotte Pepper had put her finger in .

14
A BUMP IN THE NIGHT
    H er ring! Griffin’s eyes snapped open. It had just occurred to him why he’d felt uneasy with Miss Pepper. As he was falling asleep, the image of Charlotte Pepper’s gloved hand unpacking the tea popped into his mind. He remembered seeing a large lump beneath the glove on the third finger of her left hand, the same exact place he’d seen such a ring-shaped lump before. It was strange that she’d said she wasn’t married, and yet she wore a ring like a married woman would have.
    And not only that, but the woman in the carriage had had a ring just like it.
    He could recall in vivid detail the shooter’s left hand as it held the trigger of the Gatling gun. And as he compared the images of her hand and Miss Pepper’s in his photographic memory, the sizes and shapes of the ring-shaped lumps were identical.
    Suddenly, a loud bump from downstairs startled him. He stared around wildly in his darkened room.
    What was that?
    It couldn’t be his uncle. Rupert was notorious for getting to bed on time, often quoting the American inventor Benjamin Franklin’s favorite line, “Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
    And besides that, something Griffin sensed told him an intruder was in the house. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly how he knew it, but there was a definite wrongness about the sound, and it sent chills up his spine. Griffin’s hand automatically reached to his bedside table, where, since his last near-fatal adventure, he’d always kept his Stinger. But as his fingers brushed the empty surface of the table, he was reminded again of his lost luggage and the bag that had contained his unique weapon.
    â€œDrat,” he murmured. His thoughts flicked to the wall of futuristic weapons downstairs, and he desperately wished that he’d thought to bring one of them, any of them, upstairs when he went to bed.
    Griffin heard another rustling sound downstairs and then the sound of the front door closing. With his heart thumping wildly, he pulled aside his bedclothes and retrieved his dressing gown. Then, gripping his walking stick, he crept out of his room as quietly as he could, trying very hard to avoid stepping on any creaky floorboards.
    Because of his keen observation skills, Griffin knew which spots on his bedroom floor made the most noise. As he tiptoed slowly toward his door, navigating in the near-pitch-black darkness, he pictured the room vividly in his mind.
    Five steps to the right, now a big step over the floorboards bedside the wardrobe, shuffle to the left, then another big step forward . . .
    Navigating around the creaky spots, he made his way soundlessly to the stairway and cautiously descended the stairs. He held his breath, aware of no sound but his pulse thumping in his ears.
    As Griffin reached the bottom stair, he carefully slid the sword from inside his cane. It was the first time he’d unsheathed it with the intention to defend himself, and as much as he hated the thing, it seemed his only choice for protection.
    With one hand using the