Free Snuff the Magic Dragon (and other Bombay Family Bedtime Stories) (Greatest Hits Mysteries) by Leslie Langtry Page A

the boy. Maybe I should have him come out here in a few years for some training? I made a note in my calendar to remember this.
    My desk had a secret drawer from where I withdrew my assignment file to study it again in solitude. The language issue was being competently dealt with by the ever-resourceful Julian. I rose from my chair and walked to the armoire in the corner, unlocking it with the tiny gold key I wore on a chain around my neck.
    As the doors swung open, vials and jars clinked together on the shelves. I had to find just the right poison. If our intelligence was good (and it always was) that Elizabeth of Bathory was walled up in a room inside the castle where there were no windows and only one door fitted with slits to allow for ventilation and the passing of breakfast, lunch, dinner and I can only assume , tea, I would, in fact, have no direct access to her. Strangling her or any other physical methods of death would be impossible. I felt a bit conflicted that her demise would be so swift, considering the torture she had applied to her victims. While I wasn’t terribly keen on torture myself, I quite believed in making the punishment match the crime. Pity that wouldn’t work in this case.
    So it would have to be poison, the easiest means of applying which would be to put it into her food. However, the family and staff would notice a tall, pale Englishman who wasn’t supposed to be there, so planting the poison in her food could be a problem.
    Luckily, I had another idea. Living on and having traveled throughout the African continent, I’d seen a thing or two. African Bushmen sometimes used a special dart when hunting. The idea was fairly simple. I would employ a poisoned blow dart through the slats of the door. I would just need to lure her near enough to guarantee accuracy.
    But what poison? It would have to be very lethal and act quickly enough to kill her, so that I could slip in and out between the delivery of her meals. And because it had to look like a clean death from natural causes, so as not to arouse suspicion, I couldn’t use anything that induced vomiting or the release of the bowels.
    I tapped the glass jars. The poison would have to be something that would travel well. It couldn’t lose its potency over the time it would take me to get there. This was a puzzle.
    There was a polite knock at the door. I quickly closed up the cabinet and bade them enter.
    Julian opened the door slowly, in case I needed to hide whatever I was doing. Such a thoughtful servant. He entered the room, followed by a young boy I had never seen before. In fact, he bore quite a resemblance to my godson, which immediately tugged at my familial longings again.
    “This is Stephen,” Julian explained. “The boy is an orphan from Hungary. He’s been in the service of Lord Allen’s household for six months.” He looked at the boy, who in turn nodded to me. “He also speaks French and English.”
    The child had a head full of gold curls. His blue eyes held mine almost defiantly. How very interesting.
    “How old are you, Stephen?” I asked in English.
    “I’m twelve years old, sir,” the boy answered with a darling tenor voice. Twelve? He was so small! Stephen looked like he was more seven or eight than twelve. He looked more like a small cherub than a young man.
    “Lord Allen is abroad for the next several months, and most of his household has gone with him,” Julian spoke up. “He is ours on loan, should you choose to take the boy on.”
    Stephen did not look too sure of this. He sized us up beneath his thick lashes. Clearly he wasn’t sure what to make of two Englishmen dressed as Egyptians.
    “I’m going to Hungary for a brief visit, and I need a guide and interpreter,” I said to the boy. “I will pay you a great deal more than you are making with his Lordship. Are you interested?”
    Stephen tried to control his eyes, but the light shining in them at the mention of Hungary was difficult to disguise. The boy