Page 52 of Hawk & Sparrow

“It’s curious,” he went on. “There are over one hundred different species of sparrows across the world, but that one is the smallest of them all. Passer eminibey, the chestnut sparrow. They’re quite interesting birds, wouldn’t you agree?”

Vesper nodded in agreement, mostly to be polite. “I’ve always thought sparrows were fairly ordinary birds, not particularly special.”

“They’re actually exceptionally talented creatures,” said the professor. “They’re resourceful, able to adapt to most climates, which is why there are so many different species all over the world. What they’re best known for, however, are their problem-solving skills!”

Vesper looked up. “Problem-solving?”

Professor O’Gilvie nodded, clearly pleased to have garnered her full attention. “Ornithologists have observed sparrows employing basic reason and logic to find solutions to everyday problems. As I said, they’re quite talented, if often underestimated.”

Vesper assessed the little brown bird with new eyes. She could relate to the chestnut sparrow in more ways than one.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Of course.” Professor O’Gilvie glanced over his shoulder. “I believe I should probably make my way to the other side of the house. Enjoy the aviary!” He offered Vesper a final tip of his bowler hat before making his way toward the exit. Vesper’s eyes panned the aviary again. It seemed Mrs. Oelrich had already left, as had most of the event’s guests. She felt a pang of regret, then annoyance that she’d allowed the professor to distract her. Eventually, she spotted Maximilian. It appeared he was done with his own fact gathering, because he was now standing alone with his arms clasped behind his back, studying a large hawk perched on a nearby tree. A fond smile touched Vesper’s face. It was fitting that the sorcerer would like the bird. If she could see herself in the small and resourceful chestnut sparrow, then why wouldn’t Maximilian see himself in a large, powerful bird of prey?

A hawk and a sparrow, she mused. A doomed pairing if there ever was one.

Maximilian looked up as she approached. “Any luck?”

Vesper shook her head. “I was thwarted by an ornithologist.”

Maximilian chuckled. “I didn’t fare much better. The gentleman I spoke to seemed to know about as much as we do, if not less. But I’ve been thinking about what you said on our way here, about the patent…” He turned to face her. “I don’t think the fact that it was withdrawn the day Francis died is a coincidence, and I think it adds credibility to the theory that his death and that machine are linked.”

“I still don’t want to rule Bess Duxley out,” said Vesper.

“I have another theory,” said Maximilian. “What if Francis and Belver had initially agreed to be partners, and then had a falling-out? If Francis threatened to find another partner…”

“That’s a motive for Belver to want Francis dead,” said Vesper. “If he threatened Francis and forced him to rescind his patent application, then he could just take the Gladwell Machine’s design and resubmit it under his own name once Francis was out of the way.” She paused, thoughtful. “The police didn’t find the prototype of the Gladwell Machine in the museum either. He might even have it.” She cast a wistful look toward the house.

If I could get inside. If I could just look in Charles Belver’s office …

“We need a linchpin,” said Maximilian. “Something that undeniably ties Belver not just to Francis Gladwell, but to his death. I think that’s the next stage of our investigation.”

The clouds above shifted, allowing fresh sunlight to pierce through the aviary’s glass. Vesper fanned herself, suddenly warm. Maximilian looked up, squinting.

“We should probably make our way to the reception,” he suggested.

Together, they headed toward the exit. There was no footman waiting outside anymore, and when Maximilian tried to open the door, the handle wouldn’t budge.

“That’s strange…” He tried the handle again. “It’s locked.” He concentrated a moment and held his hand over the door handle before trying again. “I’m not able to ensorcell it either.”

Vesper’s brows knitted. “Why on earth would someone lock—?”

Her words were cut off by a long screech. Vesper whirled around as a large, winged creature came careering toward them.

SEVENTEEN

FRIDAY, 11TH OF NOVEMBER—11:43 A.M.

Vesper stared at the bird in horror.

“Evans, run!”

Maximilian’s voice brought her back to her senses. Vesper gathered her skirts and began to sprint as fast as her heeled boots would allow. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder, but she still saw a dark shadow forming ahead of her, growing larger as it drew closer.

“Get down!” Maximilian shouted.

Vesper threw herself forward and flattened her body to the ground. A rush of wind passed overhead, knocking her hat from her head. The teratorn screeched in fury as it rose back into the air. Her mind began to race as she tried to put the pieces together. The only exit was locked with just the two of them inside. That on its own might have been a mistake by a careless footman. But the teratorn’s enclosure should have been closed. That could only mean—