Mr. Ashton frowned. “Yes, I can’t move. Tell the inspector that Berking and Blake were making a run for it with the money. They’re probably going out of the country. And Blake’s real name is Harper.”
Simpson, alarmed at the cool way Mr. Ashton declared he couldn’t move and provided all this new information, said, “The money? Blake is Harper? You can’t move?”
Simpson, avoiding the vomit on the floor, began to pace around the room, then thought better of it. He’d probably trip and wind up with vomit splattered on his uniform. A paper on the desk caught his eye. He picked up the paper and saw a signature at the bottom: Alexander Ashton. “Mr. Ashton, did you write a note?”
His eyes were closed in a grimace. “No.”
Simpson scanned the note, which explained that Dr. Maxwell, crazed, had forced them to drink a xolotl infusion, whatever that meant, at gunpoint and that Mr. Ashton was sorry he couldn’t have done more to stop the professor.
Despite himself, Simpson snorted. “Not exactly masterminds, are they? We cleared Dr. Maxwell ages ago. He’s not even in London. And considering you’re just paralyzed and not in a coma, I guess it really wasn’t that xolt—xlot—er, that foreign plant after all.”
Simpson looked up from the note to see that Mr. Ashton was still, his eyes closed. Alarmed, he hopped across the room and checked his pulse. It was steady and strong. Poor bloke must be exhausted, Simpson mused. Must be tiring, being poisoned and all.
CHAPTER 22
“Glad to see you looking well, Miss Everleigh,” the inspector said as he and Simpson entered the plain hospital room.
“Thank you, Inspector Green,” Saffron said. She rather doubted she looked well. No one put their best face forward in hospital pajamas and messy hair. It was barely ten hours after she’d been admitted to the hospital, according to Elizabeth, who hadn’t left her side since she’d woken up a few hours ago. Though Saffron was fatigued from the xolotl dose, not to mention the marathon of tests and doctors’ visits that curiosity about her poisoning had incited, she was eager to hear news. “Have you caught them?”
“We have Dr. Berking in custody. I need to take your statement.”
“Not Richard Blake?” Elizabeth asked, frowning at him. Her shadowed eyes moved to the door involuntarily, as if Blake would walk in any moment. Saffron knew Elizabeth was exhausted, having spent hours in the waiting room while Saffron was being poked, prodded, and questioned by a parade of doctors. Despite her dramatic claims that she was going to kill Saffron for nearly giving her a heart attack, Elizabeth had been her fierce advocate, demanding she be left alone to rest when still another round of doctors came to observe Saffron’s recovery.
Of course, that was twenty minutes before the inspector had arrived, and now Saffron wasn’t resting, but preparing to relive what had been the worst sort of nightmare.
“Dr. Berking was apprehended a few hours ago, and we have men out searching for Blake. The relevant services have been alerted and are on the lookout for him too,” Inspector Green said.
“And Alexander?” Saffron asked impatiently. She’d heard nothing about his condition or recovery, not even whether he’d woken up. Elizabeth had tried, but not being family, she hadn’t been able to get any information.
“I haven’t seen him yet,” the inspector replied.
Swallowing rising panic, she gripped her blanket with fingers no longer tinged blue. “But what happened? He must have been paralyzed far worse than I was—he had blue lines to his neck!”
Simpson piped up, stepping forward with a hesitant glance at the inspector. “I found him, miss. He looked as though he’d woken up just a moment before. First thing he said was ‘bin,’ which”—he frowned at Saffron’s brief laugh, which sounded more strangled than amused—“I was confused by, but luckily my deputy understood. He told me about Berking and Blake right away, then passed out a few minutes later.”
“But he hasn’t woken up since? It’s been nearly twelve hours! They could have mixed something else into his infusion.” Beside her, Elizabeth sighed. These were the same concerns Elizabeth had heard fourteen times since Saffron had woken. Saffron ignored her. “What if he’s gone into a coma, like Mrs. Henry?”
“Mrs. Henry woke up this morning.”
Saffron and Elizabeth gaped at the inspector.
“What?” Saffron asked. “She woke up? Is Dr. Henry with her? What did she say?”