“Yes,” insisted Drummond. “More than once.”
The earl thought about the corridor and the fact that the wall sconces were few and far between. “Are you sure? At night the shadows must be nearly black as Hades.”
The jut of Drummond’s chin rose another notch. “I know what I saw.” A pause. “And heard.”
All of Wrexford’s senses had now come alert. The reverend had a deep, sonorous voice. It was very recognizable. If what the chemist claimed was true—
Drummond seemed to read the earl’s thoughts and a self-righteous smile slowly spread over his face. “I’ve heard the reverend preach several times. His oratorical style is unique.”
“Indeed.” And yet something didn’t ring quite true. “However, if he was here at night, and—as you point out—had no business being here, I doubt he was rattling the walls with his preaching voice.”
A sharpcrackrose from the bubbling crucible, along with a ghostly plume of steam. Drummond flinched.
“Which means you must have been rather close to him to identify his voice.”
“I—” The chemist wet his lips. The smile had quickly faded to a petulant pout. “I had every right to investigate when I heard people in the corridor at odd hours. As you see, the theft shows I had every right to fear mischief was afoot.”
“More than you might think,” murmured Tyler. “You are aware, aren’t you, that the reverend was murdered last night.”
Drummond gasped, the blood draining from his face.
Unless the man was a consummate actor, thought Wrexford, the shock was real.
“Who was with the reverend?” he pressed, hoping to take advantage of the chemist’s rattled nerves.
Silence hung heavy, the weight of it dampening the soft bubbling of the liquid and the whispery hiss of the spirit lamp.
“Mr. Drummond?” urged Tyler.
“As you said, it was dark, and the other man’s voice was muffled,” replied the chemist evasively.
Wrexford could easily visualize the scenario—the reverend and one of the members of the Institution entering the corridor, Drummond hearing the voices and sneaking out to spy on what was going on....
Speaking of reptiles and cold-blooded creatures that slithered through the shadows.
Unwilling to let the chemist wiggle out of his accusations, he pressured the man for an answer. “Yet you must have noticed what laboratory they entered.”
Drummond hesitated, drawing out the moment with a long exhale before replying, “Mind you, I can’t be entirely certain. But from what I could make out, it was the one belonging to Lord Robert Canaday.”
Tyler frowned slightly, though Wrexford wasn’t sure why.
Shifting uncomfortably, Drummond ran a hand through his hair. “That’s all I can tell you. And now, I really must attend to my liquid. The experiment has already been ruined once.”
The earl decided that they had gotten all they could from the chemist. At least for now. “Thank you for your time. We will leave you to your work.” He turned for the door.
“You’ll be sure to tell Davy about the seriousness of the theft, and how sinister forces are conspiring to ruin my experiments?” came the whiney question.
Wrexford responded with a vague wave,his thoughts already preoccupied with what he had just heard.
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and caldron bubble.The words from Shakespeare’sMacbethsuddenly popped into his head. The revelations—if true—were interesting. Though whether they would shed any light on the murder was far from clear. There were any number of mundane explanations for why the reverend might have accompanied a friend to the Institution.
So far, nothing about the murder was making any sense. And as a man of science, that irritated him. “For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble,” he muttered aloud, adding more lines from the scene.
What malevolent witchcraft was brewing here in London?
“Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,” responded Tyler, his brows tweaking up in amusement. “You have to agree this has all the ingredients for a corking good play involving mystery, murder, and mayhem.”
Wrexford grunted. He hadn’t realized that his valet’s skills included an expertise in English literature.
