Kathleen Y'Barbo (13 page)

“I assure you I am not. That was neither your father nor some fellow you have promised to marry.”

“Oh?” Millie stammered as she smoothed her ruined dress as best she could.

“That was a police officer, sent up by hotel security to check the perimeter for a thief,” he snapped. “Had I not given him proper identification, I might have been hauled off to jail. Explain.”

“I might ask just what sort of identification you gave him, sir.”

“Never mind that. I will have your answer.”

“My answer is that I am not aware of any theft in this building.” Ignoring for a moment the blustering man, Millie concentrated her thoughts on her current predicament. Father and Sir William still could make an unannounced visit. With her dress smudged and her hair in ruins, the situation would look worse than ever.

Plus, the hour had moved from very late to very, very early. At this rate, she would be seeing the sun rise soon unless she found a way home.

Home...yes, she could manage it. First she would need to slip down the back staircase. After that, she could make her way through the Peabody’s kitchen, an easy prospect on a busy night. Then—

“And yet you are on the roof, hiding in a barrel?”

She forced her thoughts away from her plans to concentrate on the stranger’s statement. “Any resemblance to the behavior of a thief is a coincidence.”

Again he gave her a scathing look. “I am not given to believing in coincidences.”

“Nor am I.”

“No, I do not suppose you would steal jewelry,” he said slowly. “You do not seem like the type. Not that I have found an algorithm yet that explains women and all of their possible reactions.”

She smiled. A scientist, this one, and had she not agreed to give her life if not her heart to another, Millie might have found him quite interesting. Attractive, even.

“Point taken.” She spied an ant crawling on her skirt and reached to swipe it away. “So what happened exactly?”

He frowned. “According to the police officer, someone broke into one of the larger suites and stole a piece of jewelry.”

“Just one?” At his questioning look, she continued. “Wouldn’t you
think if a woman had checked into one of the larger suites, she might have brought multiple pieces of jewelry?”

“I suppose,” he said as he gave her a sideways look. “One set of baubles would not serve multiple purposes.”

“Of course not.” She offered him a half grin as she assumed the thick Southern accent of her Cope cousins. “Perish the thought, sir. We women must be well dressed while in public. Surely your mama told you that.”

“Repeatedly,” he said dryly.

Her mind sorted through the possibilities. “What would make a thief steal only one piece of jewelry?”

“It was the most expensive? Or maybe he was interrupted before he could grab anything else.”

“That is possible. What was it? Did the officer say?”

“A necklace. Sapphires, I believe. Do you recall anyone at your party wearing something of the sort? Perhaps her escort or someone else at the event was less than honorable. He could be the thief who took the...”

Necklace. Millie felt for the chain that never left her neck only to find it gone. “Oh, no!”

She looked into the barrel and at the bottom found the chain now broken and the two charms it held nowhere in sight. Millie tipped the barrel on its side and fell to her knees to retrieve the chain and search for missing pieces. She spotted the heart locket glittering in the moonlight. The cypher, however, could not be seen.

“What are you doing?” the aviator demanded.

“My necklace broke,” she said as she inched toward the shadows. A moment later her fingers touched cold metal and she curled them around the familiar object. The cypher. Millie sagged against the wall, her heart racing.

“Here it is.” Schooling her features, she returned her attention back to him. “What were you saying?”

What could he say when he could not get her to stand still long enough to listen? Kyle’s gaze swept over her. She bore a smudge of something gritty
on her nose and her dress was stained, and yet somehow she still managed to look absolutely breathtaking.

He had tried to be stern. Tried to act the part of an aggravated Pinkerton agent without actually admitting to his employment with the company. And still he could not manage the ruse for more than a few moments without succumbing to a grin.

“Why are you smiling?” she demanded as a glossy dark curl landed between her brows. She blew it up and away on a breath and then lifted her free hand to smooth it back into place behind her ear.

Again he had no answer. Instead, he sighed and said, “Let me see the cypher.”

She placed it in his hand, brushing her fingers across his palm in the process. “So,” he said as he turned the item over to erase the feel of her touch, “tell me about the piece.”

She paused to fiddle with the locket and chain she still held. “It is of some value, according to my mother, and it is different than other wheel cyphers because there is something inside.” She paused. “That much I have figured out on my own. What I cannot figure out is how to open it.”

“What do you think is in there?” He gave the piece a shake and felt the clank of metal against metal. “A smaller piece of jewelry?”

“Possibly.” Her expression told him she knew more but was not offering it.

The light on the rooftop was insufficient for a good examination. “Hold this,” he said as he gave it back to her so that he could retrieve his pocket lantern.

A moment later the device was lit and placed atop a nearby stack of crates. Now he could see quite well.

“Another of your inventions?” she asked as she returned the charm to his palm.

Kyle simply nodded as he turned his attention to the piece. This was no ordinary wheel cypher, and not only because the device was made of gold instead of the more customary wood. As with other coding devices of its kind, this wheel cypher was comprised of independently revolving rings. Normally, turning the rings and placing
them into the correct order
would break the code and reveal the message. With this device, however, there were no letters carved around the edge.

“It is different from anything I have read about in my research,” she said.

“It is unique to me as well.”

Under the light of the lantern, he could see that the rings appeared to be made of gold coins. The ends had long been worn down by age, a fact that added to the wheel cypher’s uniqueness.

“The size and weight of the piece suggests these might be Spanish in origin,” he said.

“Doubloons,” his companion supplied. “Or at least that would be my guess based on the thickness and age.”

“Possibly.” Kyle moved the first of the seven cylinders to the right and felt a click. “And your grandmother left you no hints as to what the code is?”

She shook her head. “I have tried all sorts of things, and nothing has worked.”

“Such as?”

“Normally, the first thing I would look for is any single-letter words, such as
A
or
I.
Because the edges have notches instead of letters, that principle is not valid. I did count the times each notch appears.” She gestured to the cypher. “If you look closely, the notches are not all alike.”

She was correct. Whoever created the cypher had gone to great detail to carve out a series of indentions that, when viewed as a whole, could be separated into patterns.

“Making sense of the patterns seems to be the key,” Millie said as if she had read his thoughts. “However, I’ve yet to find any repeating patterns that can be sustained for the length of the device. I thought of the code telegraph technology uses because that seemed most logical, but I doubt that technology was available when the cypher was created.” She met his gaze. “So therein lies the conundrum.”

Kyle could not help but be impressed, and he told her so.

“Cryptology is a hobby of mine,” she admitted. “So I find it ironic I cannot solve the one puzzle I most desire to solve.”

He continued to spin the rings, both clockwise and counterclockwise,
using several different variations on algorithms that had worked on previous cyphers. Each time he twisted the rings, the cypher failed to open.

“I have never seen a wheel cypher quite like this,” he finally said. “It’s an interesting piece of work. Who did you say made it?”

She lifted a dark brow. “I did not say, but I have no idea. Are you testing me?”

Kyle settled for a chuckle rather than an answer. Of course he was testing her, but everything about her expression when he asked told him she was telling the truth.

Still, there was something she was holding back. Something other than her name.

He thought briefly of inquiring. However, if she shared her name, he would have to do the same. And that was not something he was keen to do, considering the size of the city and the fact he had been given a lead that could mean any of the wealthier citizens were guilty of hiding Confederate gold.

From the looks of this one, she could well be related to his next arrest. So, though he would prefer to have a name to go along with the lovely lady, he would settle for anonymity rather than reveal himself as a Pinkerton agent.

“Well, Mr. Inventor, perhaps you should invent something to solve this puzzle.”

Kyle grinned. “Actually, I have been playing around with a device that might just do the trick, but I don’t happen to have it with me.”

She reached to touch his sleeve again. Her fingers were small and unadorned by jewels. Kyle noticed the pearls at her wrist and thought of Lucas and the latest allegations made against Will Tucker.

“Stop teasing me,” she said as she withdrew her hand.

“I’m serious. I have been toying with an idea that might work, but it’s back in my workshop in...” Kyle bit back the remainder of his statement. “In another city.”

“A workshop,” she echoed. “I would so love to have such a thing.”

Everything about her surprised him. This statement, however, topped the list. “Oh? You do not have one?”

He was teasing. However, he instantly saw from her thoughtful expression she had taken him seriously.

“It’s more of a third-floor attic that I have borrowed from the staff to make a room of my own.”

Kyle gave her a sideways look. “And what sorts of inventions do you build in that room of yours?”

“Nothing yet, though I have done some drawings. Mostly I play with puzzles and numbers.” She paused. “And read.”

“Read?” He shook his head. “Are you not allowed to do that elsewhere?”

“No.” Her answer came out softly, with more than a little wistfulness. He watched her carefully for some sign she was playacting and found none.

“So the reading of books is not encouraged in your home?” he asked instead.

“Not by a woman.” Their gazes met. “Believe me. I am not such a shrinking violet that I have been cowed into hiding my pursuits out of fear.” She paused and seemed to be considering her words. “Rather, I have learned it is much more convenient to allow my father to see only what he wishes to see.”

Though her statement affected him deeply, Kyle chose not to let her know. Instead, he decided to change the topic slightly with a wink and a shrug.

“I do not suppose I could convince you to leave the item with me so that I can perform further studies.” Her expression answered for her. “I didn’t think so,” he said as he returned the cypher to her.

She tucked the piece into the pocket of her coat and then surprised him by walking over to the edge of the roof. He followed and found her staring up at the sky.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she whispered when he reached her side.

“Yes, lovely.” Though he was not looking at the stars.

“We were up there tonight.” Her voice was soft now, quiet enough to make Kyle wonder whether she realized he stood beside her at all.
Then she nudged him. “Do you ever wonder if we will ever be able to fly as far as the stars?”

The thought was not a new one to him, though his calculations for
such a feat were rife with unknown factors. Still, he hoped someday the answer would be yes.

“I think so,” he said, though he had not realized he had spoken aloud until the lovely lady turned to look at him. He saw something in her eyes. Was it relief?

“You do?” she breathed.

When he told her why and gave her a brief description of the math involved in the project as well as some of the possible pitfalls using currently available methods, she seemed to hang on every word. Her questions were intelligent, and well thought out. His responses, he hoped, did her queries justice.

“So with the advancement of the science of physics and the discovery of a fuel source light enough and yet burns with enough power to achieve the proper lift and thrust...”

“Space travel is possible,” he supplied. “Science is an ever-expanding field. Eventually someone will find a material that will withstand the cold of that altitude and the heat generated by a swift fall to earth while keeping the vessel’s contents safe. And when they do, yes, I’d say travel to anywhere would become very much a reality.”

She looked up into his eyes, jolting his attention from the galaxies overhead to the woman at his side. “Then perhaps you should work on that project next.”