She then wandered out into the cloisters. Following her sketch, she walked past the night stair toward the chapel, then turned and walked along the passage that ran parallel to the church ruins outside. Nearing the next corner, she again consulted her drawing. From where she stood, the blue parlour would be on the other side of the wall in front of her and the hall to her right. Above her would be room three, formerly the abbess’s private chamber. She looked at her rough rendering of the old plans. Was anything still here? Some trace of the “servants’ stairs” Rose had mentioned? Or were they long gone, demolished during the hotel renovations?
Peering into that dim corner, Rebecca saw a small alcove she’d walked past without noticing before. On the left was an arched stone bay that had once, perhaps, been a low doorway leading into the long-ruined nave. If it had once been a passageway, it had been bricked up long ago. On the right was acrude wooden door—low and a foot or more above the ground. The planks were painted a dull grey, with iron hinges and a sliding bolt. Rebecca assumed it was now some sort of storage cabinet, if it was used at all.
Or was it?
———
After attending church with his mother, Frederick returned to the abbey. He came in through the garden door and walked through the cloisters, determined to have another look in room three. He wanted to work out how a perpetrator managed to not only enter the room but also to lock the door behind himself when he left.
As he turned the corner, he saw a woman lurking in the shadows.
A pert female figure backed from a dim alcove. The trim waist, hair, and profile were painfully familiar. His heart sank to see her sneaking around. What was she up to?
“Miss Lane?”
She jerked and whirled, clearly startled and perhaps guilty. Her eyes, wide behind spectacles, met his and skittered away again into the dark corner, which made him suspect she had been meeting someone.
Rebecca placed a hand to her chest. “You gave me a start.”
Looking past her, he saw that she was alone. Even so, he told himself to remain aloof and objective in her company, more the magistrate and less the lovelorn fool. “What are you doing skulking about down here?”
“Just exploring. Fascinating old place.”
“Yes...” he absently replied. Gaze lingering on her face, he said, “I have never seen you wear spectacles before.”
“Oh.” She quickly removed them, tucking them into the reticule dangling from her wrist. “Mostly for reading.”
“And what were you reading down here?”
“I ... was, em, trying to follow the floor plans from the library.” She held up a sketch as proof. “And where are you headed?”
“Back up to number three. I still have Mayhew’s key.”
“May I come along?”
He vacillated, mind and heart wrestling. “Well ... I suppose that would be all right. Though I am surprised you would want to see it again.”
“Actually, I am very keen to do so.”
He looked at her in consternation, her expression strangely eager. Why?
As they crossed the hall to the main stairs, Miss Lane said, “May I ask what you are hoping to find?”
In a low voice, Frederick replied, “I am still wondering how the perpetrator managed to enter undetected, and then lock the door behind himself when he left.”
“You assume whoever it was stole a key?”
“Or possessed one legitimately.”
“Do you suspect one of the staff?”
He shook his head. “I don’t, and yet, besides the maids, only Mrs. Somerton and Mr. Mayhew had keys to the room. And there is no other way in.”
“That may not be true.”
Surprise flashed through him. “What do you mean?”
“I believe there may be another way into that room. At least, there used to be.”
