Maybe he needed to think about that.
Sebastian made his way down to the lobby and found a chair in a quiet corner to wait for Wesley. He’d picked his outfit entirely based on what would fit best under the overcoat he didn’t plan to take off. Wesley, of course, came down the stairs in a perfectly fitted three-piece suit, crisp white shirt, and walking stick.
“You do know Tarrytown is not, in fact, the country?” Wesley said, gesturing at Sebastian. “Although I will admit that tweed suits you so well you can get away with it.” He dropped his voice a little lower. “And everything is as it should be with the brooch?”
Sebastian blinked. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? Was something odd when you brought it up last night?”
“Well, I rather would have led withdarling, something seems to be amiss with your deadly enchanted antique jewelry,” Wesley said dryly. “Only—” He hesitated.
“What?”
“A small detail, that’s all,” Wesley said. “You hung your clothes first last night, when we came in from the rain, and you hung them next to each other. I hung my jacket later, and I thought I stuck it in to the side of your things. But when I got back to the suite, my jacket was between your waistcoat and your jacket.”
Sebastian frowned. He touched his waistcoat. “Everything seems normal,” he said, which Wesley would know meantI still hate it but have no choice about carrying it.
Wesley held up his wrist. “My cuff links were exactly where I left them, in plain view, and these are real emeralds. If someone had gone into my suite rifling around, why not take them? Why on earth would someone only look in the closet and shift clothing?”
“Could it have been Major Langford?”
“I suppose,” Wesley said. “If he’d moved very quickly to get down to us outside. But for what? Looking for the brooch? I have a hard time believing he’s secretly paranormal.”
“He’s definitely not,” Sebastian said. “I would have felt his magic, when I lost control for that second in the smoking lounge. And he wouldn’t have dropped his drink—I weaken only a paranormal’s magic, not an aura like I do in others.”
“I suppose it could be Sir Ellery, looking for the pomander,” Wesley said.
“We saw him in Grand Central yesterday,” Sebastian pointed out.
“Yes, but he could have been lying about where he was going,” Wesley said. “Or he could have gone and come back. But if he’s looking for a fifteenth-century pomander, why not take the fifteenth-century brooch?” He pursed his lips. “Maybe I got it wrong.”
Sebastian shook his head. Wesley’s memory was near-flawless. “If you remember the clothes hung differently, then they were hung differently.”
“Normally I would agree,” said Wesley, “but in fairness, there’s nothing normal about my life these days and I was highly distracted last night. I very well could be misremembering.” He gestured at the hotel desk. “What do you think? Keep the rooms, leave our trunks here?”
“I don’t think we want to be managing them while we’re looking for the others,” Sebastian said. “We can always come back.”
Wesley arranged for the rooms while Sebastian did a round of calls from the front desk, just in case the others had come home the night before. But it was the same: no answers and no news. Their best lead was still the name of an inn Arthur had been at two days ago.
“You’ve got a cable, sir,” the man at the front desk said, as they were wrapping up. He held the paper out to Wesley. “From London.”
Wesley took it and gave it a quick read. Then he glanced at Sebastian. “It’s from my footman, Ned. He says he didn’t tell anyone where I’d gone because he knows I hate that.”
Sebastian frowned. “So Sir Ellery lied?”
“So Sir Ellery lied,” Wesley agreed, with a frown that matched Sebastian’s.
They crossed the street from the Roosevelt to Grand Central. In the station, Sebastian bought a newspaper for Wesley and coffee for himself, and then they found their platform. It was mostly empty, the morning commute over, the afternoon rush not yet begun.
Their train car had no first class or compartments for privacy, so they shared a gold-upholstered bench in an open car with three other people. As the train began its journey north through the subway tunnels, Wesley stretched his legs out under the seat in front of him.
“Miss Robbins says they want to see us when we arrive in New York.” His profile was reflected in the window as they sped past the dark walls of the subway tunnel. “Arthur checks out of the Horseman Inn in Tarrytown the morning of the day we arrived.”
“But Arthur doesn’t come back to the city and none of them are anywhere to be found,” Sebastian said. “Where did they go from Tarrytown?”
“I suppose we’re hoping to find out.”
The train came out from the tunnels, and sunlight filled the car. Wesley fit his monocle into place and spread out the newspaper as they rumbled toward Harlem. He looked very proper, but Sebastian missed the reading glasses Wesley only wore in private.
“Do you want the window?” Sebastian asked.
