The Shadow and the Star by Laura Kinsale Page B

infant at Oxslip's, you understand me? Your friend sent you fair and far wrong when she sent you there."
    The girl began to breathe rapidly. Her face contorted.
    The inspector held her by the hand. Leda moved closer, biting her lip. "Can I do anything?" she whispered.
    The squeak of the wicket door made them both look around. Leda expected to see Sergeant MacDonald, but it was an unknown officer who burst through the door, color high in his cheeks and his collar tight from exertion. Inspector Ruby shoved himself to his feet.
    "Don't leave me," the girl cried. "It hurts so!"
    Leda stepped into the cell. "I'll stay with her," she said, lowering herself onto her knees on the hard floor. She took the girl's hand and patted it as the frantic fingers closed over hers.
    "Thank you, miss." The inspector was already out and addressing the newcomer. "Good evening to you, Superintendent. Something amiss?"
    The other man gave a bark of harsh laughter. "Amiss! Aye! Why don't we have a telegraph in this office, I ask you? I've a flock of reporters ten steps behind me and the Home Office breathing hot on my neck, if you call that bloody amiss! Bring yourself along, Ruby, and look lively."
    "My reserve—"
    "MacDonald? I met him in the street. Sent him ahead. The papers, man, the papers! If you think I want to be caught flat-footed in front of a bloody pack of reporters, you may think again." The man never even looked toward Leda or the woman in the cell, but kept his hand on the open door as Inspector Ruby quickly gathered his hat and coat. "It's some sort of swindle, I'll be bound, but this fellow's advertised his work from Whitehall to the
Times
and back again, and we've got to look as if we're on top of it. I judge we've got a quarter hour before the press is on the scene." He wiped at his forehead with his handkerchief. "There's been a robbery at the Alexandra Hotel, from some damned Oriental prince or other, Siamese I think it is, but that's not our job—what we've got is a bloody note from the bloody fellow what pinched it, says this bloody stolen irreplaceable prick of a Siamese jeweled crown—to be presented to the Queen herself, mind you�this thief comes right out and says it can bloody well be recovered from Oxslip's in Jacob's Island!"
    "
Oxslip's
!" Inspector Ruby ejaculated.
    "Well you may gape! You've only got the half of it. Do you know what the bloody devil this maniac left in place of the crown at the hotel? Some filthy little statuette right out of a nasty house, Ruby! A
truly
nasty house—and I'm not talking of some Haymarket pub full of dollymops, either. Can you fathom it? Home Office is hysterical; Foreign Office gone mad—monstrous insult to these Orientals' bloody sensibilities—international incident—trade treaties—diplomats—I'll tell you, Ruby, I'm not going to be caught looking the fool in front of a parcel of damned diplomats—"
    His words were lost as the door closed behind them. Leda stared after them in bewilderment, and then down into the terrified eyes of the girl.
    "It's quite all right," she said, trying to sound stout. "The midwife's coming."
    "Something's happening," the girl exclaimed, with a wild motion of her head. "I'm all wet—I'm bleeding!"
    Leda looked down, and indeed, there was a dark stain creeping up the girl's skirt. It seemed a massive amount of fluid, spreading out over the floor. "No—it isn't blood, dear," she said. "It's quite transparent. Your water." Leda had heard of that—that a woman's waters broke, whatever that meant. She was very much afraid it indicated that birth was imminent. "Just be calm. The midwife is on her way."
    The girl cried out, her body straining. Her fingernails dug into Leda's palm.
    Leda stroked her forehead. Her skin was soft and moist, with a healthy color unlike the pallor of poverty that had begun to seem familiar to Leda. She must have had decent food and lodging, at least. Her body seemed sturdy and well-formed, not delicate, but that was