We pushed our way through the throngs of guests and made our way down the hall to our room. The individual bedrooms in our suite each had a doorway into the main hall, and we’d stopped in front of the guys’ door. Morrie fished around in the pockets of his topcoat for the room key, but kept coming up with nothing.
“Hurry up,” Heathcliff muttered, bracing himself against the wall. “Mina’s been eating too much duck confit. She’s not exactly light.”
“Hey!” I pretended to slap him on the cheek. “That’s no way to address a lady!”
“Croak!” Quoth added.
Morrie recovered the key from his breeches (what it was doing there, I couldn’t guess) and shoved the door open. Heathcliff dumped me on the bed, slumping down beside me and pulling me into his arms.
I sank against him. Now that we were alone, the full horror of what I’d seen came at me in a rush. I sobbed into Heathcliff’s shoulder, snotting all over his beautiful coat.
“That’s it,” he muttered in a conciliatory manner, rubbing circles on my back. “Keep weeping on this coat, ruining it forever.”
“Want to hear my theory?” Morrie bounced around the room. “If the missing jewels and window escape are anything to go by, it appears tonight’s handiwork was the purview of the Argleton Jewel Thief. But it’s interesting that he’s changed his pattern. He hasn’t murdered before. From the angle of the window, he might not have noticed Professor Hathaway sitting in the chair.”
“Stop thinking about it,” Heathcliff snapped. “This isn’t our business. We’re all keeping our noses out of it, else Mina will end up in trouble again—”
BANG BANG BANG!
I jumped, clinging to Morrie. Something hammered against the door so hard it rattled the antique dresser. Lydia’s voice pierced the wall.
“Mina, Mina. You must help me!”
Morrie rolled his eyes. “Go away. No one’s home.”
“I can hear you talking, Lord Moriarty.”
“Who is Moriarty? We’re just three field mice hunting for cheese.”
I sniffled back a laugh. “Let her in. She’s probably scared out of her wits.”
Sighing, Heathcliff opened the door. Lydia fell into the room and leaped on the bed, clinging to my body in desperation.
“Ow!” I cried, as my head slammed into the headboard. I sat up, rubbing the sore patch. “Lydia, I thought I told you not to disturb—”
“This is a matter of life and death!” She flung herself on top of me, her hand to her forehead as though she might faint at any moment. “More precisely, my life and impending death!”
“Professor Hathaway’s death has nothing to do with you—ow, what are you doing?”
Lydia grabbed my hand and dragged me off the bed, yanking me so hard she wrenched my shoulder. I followed her into the hall, terrified that if I didn’t she’d separate my arm from my body. She pointed with a trembling finger to the door of our bedroom. My heart plunged into my chest.
Across the door, in black paint, someone had written, “YOU’RE NEXT.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
YOU’RE NEXT.
My head spun. What were these words doing on the door to our bedroom? Why would someone leave such a horrible message, unless… unless they meant to scare Lydia?
Or me.My blood turned cold as I realized the message could have been for either of us.
“When… when was this done?” I croaked out.
Morrie touched his finger to the edge of the paint. A smudge came away on his fingers. “It’s not completely dry. I’d say it’s a few hours old, at least.”
“So, around the time someone was murdering Professor Hathaway?” Heathcliff demanded. “That doesn’t seem like a coincidence.”
“No.” Morrie frowned at me. “It doesn’t. Mina, did you piss off any Janeites this weekend? Any high school sweethearts or bitter fashion school rivals amongst the guests?”
