CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
As their carriage pulled up to 38 Great Pulteney Street, Officer Hamilton was the first to notice the Bow Street Runner missing from his station on the stoop. Hamilton and Polidori leapt from the carriage, then leaned over the wrought iron fencing to peer down into the basement air well. The officer blew his whistle—three loud, sharp warbles into the darkness—before he threw the signal to the carriage valet.
“Keep sounding the alarm until the runners arrive,” he said. “Otherwise we’ll surely be dead before the sun rises.”
Augustus Frederick pulled his horse to. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Sir, unless you have a pistol, I suggest you leave immediately,” Hamilton said, but Augustus Frederick dismounted and followed them down the iron steps, the dull ring of metal
