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“Good,” he muttered, feeling better. Unless someone on the inside was helping the author of the message, the only other way in besides the front door was now sealed. If the culprit were still here, he wouldn’t be able to get out without a key—or a good length of rope.
On reaching the others clustered around the draped carcass, he made a decision. “We must check the building from top to bottom. Mrs. Sloane, I’ll want your keys, if you please. Headmistress, you have yours?” She nodded, and he continued. “Groups of three, room by room, every nook and cranny. We’ll meet back in the dining hall. Hopefully, by then the constable will have arrived.”
“What about the children?” said Mrs. Orson. “We cannot keep them down here all night.”
“As soon as we’re certain it’s safe, you can send them on to bed.”
Mrs. Sloane spoke up. “They’ll want to know what’s happened. What should we tell them?”
“The truth—or part of it, rather,” he replied. “Someone got in and made mischief in the yard. We’re ensuring they’ve gone. The simpler the explanation, the better. They don’t need to know the details.”
Throughout all of this, Trouvère remained pensive.
Bending, he snuffed out the candles. “Everyone, inside. Take your lamps. We’ll make certain the children cannot see anything when we bring the constable out to have his look. Headmistress, you’re with me, and Mrs. Sloane. We’ll search on our way to the front.”
They paused only long enough for Trouvère to deliver a message to the children to stay put, and then set off. Room by room, they progressed, checking each for intruders. When they reached her office, however, Trouvère stopped and took out her keys.
“Why bother?” Will asked as she let herself in. “If it’s locked, he cannot be inside.”
“No, but there is something in here I want.” She returned a moment later bearing two pistols. “Did you expect me not to possess some means of protection?” she asked lightly.
He realized then that he was staring at her in openmouthed astonishment. “Have you ever even fired a pistol before?”
She fixed him with a gimlet eye. “Yes,” she said simply, putting one of the guns into an apron pocket and proffering him the other. “And you, monsieur?”
Taking it, he tucked it into the back of his breeches. “Enough to know I can hit whatever I aim at,” he said evasively.
“Good. Then let us proceed.”
They reached the foyer without incident and made sure all was secure there before inspecting Mrs. Sloane’s rooms. Finding everything in order, the three settled in to await the constable.
“It shouldn’t be long now,” said Mrs. Sloane. “Geoffrey—I mean Constable Birdsley,” she corrected, blushing, “should be here soon.”
Geoff Birdsley. Bloody hell. Will’s heart sank even as he saw Trouvère hide a smile over the matron’s slip. He and Geoff had worked together in another district for a short time before Geoff had moved. Steeling himself, he waited. It would all be up the moment the man saw him. He nearly sagged in relief when Mrs. Sloane begged a private moment in her chambers.
The instant the door closed behind her, Will addressed the headmistress. “You need to tell me the truth about what you believe is going on here. I saw you back there. Is your husband still alive?”
Trouvère’s gaze remained downcast. “No. He is most certainly dead. I saw it with my own eyes. This is something…else.”
“If you know something—anything—about why that animal was left there with that message, I need you to tell me.”
“Why? What can you do about it?” she flared, frowning. “In addition to the constable, I’ve sent word to my benefactor. He will know what to do.”
“You think this has something to do with him?”
She fidgeted, betraying nervousness. “I don’t know. Perhaps.”
“But the message in the courtyard inferred that the intended target is a woman.” He counted to ten in his head before taking the gamble. “Might they be trying to use you to get to him? To get to the Archangel?”
Wide, hazel eyes fixed on him. “How do you know that name?”
“I overheard two of the students talking in the hallway. It was what prompted me to break in and look at the records. When I saw the seal on Penny’s letter, I knew it had to be him.”
She moved so quickly he had no time to react. When he looked down, her pistol was aimed directly at his chest.
“Who are you?” she demanded, the tremor in her voice revealing the fear she’d not shown in the courtyard. “You are no mathematics teacher; that much is certain!”
Raising both hands, he spoke as calmly as possible while staring down the barrel of a loaded, cocked firearm. “I might ask the same question of you. You’ve never been completely honest with me. You work with the Archangel, don’t you?” He tried to smile a little, but aborted the effort when she raised the gun higher. “I swear I’m no enemy of yours—or his.”
