CHAPTER SEVENTY
“There are eleven in all,” Officer Hamilton said. “We have touched nothing, thinking it best to leave it for the magistrates’ and your own good judgment.”
The cabriolet pulled to the curb on Park Lane. Bow Street Runners had cordoned off the intersection into Upper Grosvenor Street and stood the perimeter of the handsome townhome.
“Is Miss Kathleen Griffith amongst the eleven?” Polidori asked.
“She is.”
The entrance lobby showed no hint of the horror that lay waiting beyond. The ornate furnishings and floor rugs were undisturbed, the candelabra at the first turn of the broad, carpeted stair offered nothing but a reassuring glow. All was still, dampened only by the wind that drifted in behind them. A runner closed the front door, leaving Hamilton and Polidori alone in t
