International Kittens of Mystery Read Online Free Page A

always think clearer with a slight list of the noggin to starboard. Maybe it takes the pressure off the left-hand grey cells. Maybe it chivvies along the ones on the right. Who knows? I was about to ask Reeves when I remembered the pressing task at hand. That’s the problem of inclining your head in thought – it can send your little grey cells rolling away in all directions.
    Seconds passed in deep list. I could see the merit of Reeves’s plan. A rumour that Reginald Worcester was on his uppers would vastly diminish his marital prospects. But I had a tailor and several bookmakers who looked upon financial insecurity with considerable disapproval.
    I shook my head. “Sorry, Reeves. The risks outweigh the benefits. If I’m halfway up the aisle, feel free to pass notes of my imminent bankruptcy along every pew on the bride’s side of the church. But, until then, not a word.”
    â€œI agree it is a risky strategy, sir. How does one feel about insanity?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œAs a subject for a rumour, sir. A suitor with a history of insanity in his family would be at a considerable disadvantage.”
    Now insanity I could live with. What noble family in England didn’t have a great uncle who chewed the occasional carpet or kept newts in his bedroom? We Worcesters had more than our fair share. Of course, most families preferred not to talk about them. Which meant that the person who did would have a clear advantage! Or do I mean disadvantage?
    â€œHow would you propose these rumours be spread?”
    â€œWell, sir, if word were to reach the servants of the families in question, I am sure the information would percolate upstairs. If you wish, I could commence this evening. All the families in question will have footmen or chauffeurs waiting to convey them from the ball.”
    o0o
    I drove the Stanley Steamer to Denmark Street, following for a while one of the new Daimler steam cars – the ones with the super-condenser and heated seats – and cast an envious eye in its direction. Not that I gave voice to my thoughts. Since meeting Reeves, I’ve been wary of casting opinions on inanimate objects in case they took offence. If Reeves can have feelings, then why not the Stanley? And the last thing one wants on a journey is a sulking car. You used to look at me like that. Aren’t I good enough for you any more? I wasn’t sure if a steam car could sob, but one presumes that if it did, it would play havoc with the boiler pressure.
    I left Reeves to park the car and spread rumours – Denmark Street being stuffed to the gills with assorted steamers, Hansoms and coaches-and-four – and found an unobserved spot by an entrance pillar where I swiftly despatched six cloves of garlic. They took some chewing, and considerable inner fortitude, but, compared to the alternative, it was worth the discomfort. Although next time I’d make sure I had a hip flask handy. My throat, already on fire, was beginning to close up.
    Within a minute I was penning another mental missive. Next time take a visiting card with you. It was bad enough trying to force my name through a burning and constricted throat without the additional pressure of watching the hostess’s butler wilt before my very eyes.
    â€œMr Reginald,” he announced, pausing while he leaned back in search of fresher air. “Woo-oorcester.”
    Well, if nothing else, I had proof of the garlic’s efficacy.
    A few eyes turned my way as I descended the staircase into the ballroom. There had to be about three hundred guests in the room, all dressed to the nines. The Duchess of Rutland was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs, her gaze somewhat withering. I bowed my head towards her, but didn’t stop to chat. When one has a mouthful of a secret weapon, it’s best not to exhale inklings within nostril distance of the enemy’s spies.
    And, besides, if I didn’t find a drink soon, I’d