The Opera Singer's Daughter (A Sherlock Holmes Spin-Off Novel)

Chapter Ten

I had little doubt he meant what he said. His tone was angry and his grip on my arm was tight. "All right," I said softly. "In which direction would you like me to start walking?"

How was it possible for me to be spotted twice in a city as large as London?

The sharp edge poked deeper into my side. "Don't think you can trick me again," he said in a low voice. "Start walking and remember if you make a sound, I won't hesitate to hurt you."

He pushed, and I took a step forward. For the moment, I would do as he said. My mind raced, trying to think of a way out of this mess. If I reached up to my hat, would I be able to pull out my hair pin and use it before Keene hurt me?

Again, he prodded my back, and I dismissed my idea. He seemed all too eager to have a reason to cause me harm. His employer must have been truly angry with him for losing me for so long. That, or he was annoyed at how I have evaded him.

None of which helped me with where I was at that moment.

No one was paying us any attention. Keene has warned me not to make a scene, but if I did, he wouldn't be able to hurt me with people looking on. Did he really think he would be able to carry me anywhere if he stabbed me? However, if I did manage to draw attention, would it be enough for anyone to care.

Mrs. Hudson's basket slipped from my fingers. "Oh, no," I exclaimed with more drama than the situation called for. Not a single person glanced our way. "Dear, would you get my basket? I managed to drop it."

"You don't need it, my dear," Keene hissed and pushed me again. "And don't think I don't know what you're trying."

"Don't need it? After I went to all the trouble of buying fish? Do you even know how much time it takes to pick the right fish?" Really, I did not like having my work and time trivialized.

Swiftly, I spun to the right and ducked down to grab the basket's handle. This put space between me and Keene's knife, though I was not able to pull out of his grasp. I had seconds to decide what to do: hit him with the basket, kick his ankle, scream?

"Ah, there you are, Miss Leigh. You seem to have run into some trouble?"

Mr. Sherlock Holmes' voice? I lifted my gaze to find the tall consulting detective standing a foot away. There was a smile on his face, but his gray eyes held no trace of amusement. If anything, I would have said he was very angry.

"A bit, yes," I said honestly. "This man has a knife."

"I deduced as much. I do hope you were not planning on doing something foolish."

Keene jerked me up. "I don't know who you are," he said, his tone snappish. "This is my daughter and I am taking her home with me."

With his attention on Mr. Holmes, I decided to make my move. I brought my boot down on Keene's left foot. He yelped in pain and his grip loosened enough for me to pull away.

What happened next occured so quickly, I wasn't sure I saw it correctly. Keene tried to grab for me, but Mr. Holmes caught the man's wrist and twisted. A small blade fell fell from the man's hand. Before it hit the ground, Mr. Holmes had jabbed Keene's neck and my would-be captor sagged. The detective caught the man and supported him.

"That seems like a very useful thing to know how to do," I said. A glance around showed that no one had taken any notice of us.

"Indeed." Mr. Holmes put his arm around Keene's back. "Collect your basket, Miss Norton. I'm sure Mrs. Hudson will want it, even though you didn't complete your errand."

My heart was still racing as I retrieved the basket. The fish inside seemed unharmed. Mr. Holmes was already striding away, looking as though he were supporting a friend. I hurried to catch up to him.