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“But I could hope.” She put the cap back on the water bottle. “And I can still hope. I won’t give up.”
“Of course you won’t. What’s next?”
“First, I find a bathroom and wash up a little. I wouldn’t want to upset MacDuff’s cleaners by soiling any furniture.” She got to her feet. “And then I’ll go downstairs to Jamie’s library and take a look around.”
“You said that he used it only for show and his gambling soirees. Fiona wouldn’t have been permitted in that section of the house.”
“But you told me not to look for anything in a place where I thought Fiona might hide it. I’ve exhausted everything else. I’ve decided to follow your advice.”
“As a last resort?”
“I didn’t say that.” She grinned. “But she liked books and she wasn’t supposed to be in Jamie’s library. It might have been a temptation she couldn’t resist. Want to come down and help me? If you do, I’ll meet you in the library in ten minutes.” She turned and ran down the steps.
He was in the library, going through books, when she entered the library ten minutes later. He looked up. “I had to put my money where my mouth was. But I’m warning you that it looks like these books have never been touched.”
“Maybe they haven’t. But if we see any that appear to have even a little wear, we should pay attention to them. It might mean that Fiona was thumbing her nose at Jamie.”
He shrugged. “I’ll do what I can. Where are you going to start?”
She gazed around the huge room. All the books appeared pristine. “I’m not certain…” She made a decision. “There are a few rows on transportation over there. I’ll see if I can find anything on trains since Fiona clearly had an interest.”
“Good luck.”
She knew immediately that she’d need luck as she started to go through the books. They were all expensive, antique tomes, but they were stiff, and she had to be careful of the bindings. It wasn’t until she reached the row on the second shelf that concerned the trains that she noticed anything different. In the middle of the third book—The History of the Oystermouth Steam Railway—she saw something peculiar. “What the hell…”
Rodland looked up. “What?”
Jane was carefully separating two pages that had been glued together in the center of the book. “Hush, I’m trying to concentrate and not cause these pages to fall apart. Old…so old.”
Rodland was beside her. “Can I help?”
She shook her head. “It’s a letter and there’s no way I can remove it without damaging it. The ink is faded, and I can barely make it out. I’ll have to take time and do it slowly, carefully.”
“You can’t make out any of the words?”
Jane was squinting but she shook her head. “I don’t think I—” She broke off and suddenly smiled. “Except the signature. It’s very bold.” She met his eyes. “He signed it.All my love, Farrell.”
He chuckled. “I told you they were lovers. Farrell MacClaren. The artist who painted her portrait.”
“We can’t be sure they were lovers until I manage to read this letter.”
“You’re quibbling. Anything else?”
“I’m looking.” She was carefully turning the pages. But she was nearly at the end of the book when she noticed a thickening on the inner back cover. She hurriedly flipped it and saw the inch-thick surface that was hiding the exterior cover. “That’s too thick to be another letter.” She gently worked the edge of the upper cover loose. “It’s not sealed, it’s a kind of envelope.” She pulled the object slowly away from the back cover. “But it feels like a letter. Maybe I’m wrong…” Then the object came free and slid out into her hand.
“What on earth!” She stared blankly down at the slick colorful surface. “It looks like a cheap paperback book that was hidden inside Jamie’s historical train book. Why would Fiona have done that?”
“You’ll have to figure it out.” Rodland was chuckling. “But maybe she had a sense of humor. Look at the title and the artwork on the cover.”
Jane could see what was amusing him.Daring Cowboy Bob Stops the Train Robbery. And the artwork showed a dashing cowboy shooting at a train that looked like a dragon chugging down a railroad track. The art was excellent, and it reminded her of something…Then it came to her.
“It’s a dime novel,” she murmured. “I studied them in one of my art classes. They were popular in the U.S. from around 1860 until 1915. They were only about twenty-five thousand words and they all had colorful covers. They cost a nickel or a dime and were shaped to fit the pocket. Fiona wouldn’t have had any trouble hiding this in the book. But why would she have wanted to?”
“If she was never in the U.S., someone must have sent it to her. I can’t imagine it would have been imported here.”
“You may be right.” Jane was looking through the novel. “There are words and passages underlined.”
“Someone who had a connection with the railway? My, my.”
