“He’s cold. Is he…?” she asked, tears in her eyes.
“You are a doctor?” Mr. Ludlow asked Mr. Fairbanks.
“No, but I know a little. I’ve seen some action.” Mr. Fairbanks didn’t elaborate. He gently nudged Violet aside and leaned forward, pressing his ear to Mr. Griffin’s chest. He took the man’s wrist in his hand and removed a pocket watch from his pocket, counting. A few seconds later, he lowered her uncle’s wrist. “He lives. He’s still alive, but his pulse is weak. He needs a doctor.”
Violet spotted a small pool of blood behind her uncle’s head. “Look at that. He’s been hit.”
Mr. Ludlow picked up Mrs. Hemlock. “What am I to do with her? She’s fainted.”
“Lay her down, man. Make her comfortable,” Mr. Fairbanks said.
Mr. Ludlow laid her down on a creaking sofa, which exhaled a plume of dust. He coughed, brushing the dust away from his clothes. “Dratted dust. I hate attics.”
“What about the woman?” Violet asked. “Did either of you see her?”
“What woman? Yousaw someone?” Mr. Ludlow looked around, his eyes wide.
“Violet, now is not the time to be throwing ghost stories around. Your uncle may be seriously hurt.” Mr. Fairbanks’s tone was curt. He gently felt around Mr. Griffin’s head. “He has been hit with something. A hard object, I would guess.”
A few minutes later, there came a sound. “Hello? Is anyone there?” Miss Eagle stood in the doorway, holding a candle. “Hello?”
“Miss Eagle? Come, we need you,” Mr. Fairbanks said. “Bring the candle here now.”
Miss Eagle screeched. “Is that a body? Oh, my god. Is he dead? Is that dear old Mr. Griffin? Was it the ghost?”
Mr. Fairbanks took the candle from her. “There was no ghost. But this little party has gone far enough. Miss Eagle, Mr. Ludlow, go downstairs and bring some servants up here. Mr. Edwin needs help, and he needs a doctor. The least we can do is make him comfortable.”
Mr. Ludlow and Miss Eagle left, taking the candle with them. That plunged the room into darkness, and Violet shivered beside Mr. Fairbanks. “I wasn’t lying about the ghost. I did see someone.”
“I have no doubt you did, but it’s past time to be playing little jokes on each other, don’t you think?” he said rudely.
“What are you on about? I haven’t played tricks on anyone,” she said.
“Oh, really? What about the suit of armor that crashed when only you were in the corridor? Or hiding in another room when you thought I was coming in? I saw the bookshelf close and a bit of a skirt, just as I was walking into the library. I know it was you.”
“What? What are you talking about? What bookshelf?” She looked at him, confused.
His eyebrows rose. “You mean you didn’t…” He paused. “Then that means…”
“There’s another secret passage,” they both said.
Mr. Fairbanks gripped her shoulders in excitement. “I could kiss you.”
She blushed.
He dropped his hands. “Sorry. Who knew this Gothic pile would have so many secret passages?”
“We should have known. Miss Eagle and my uncle came through earlier. It might have been a priest’s bolt hole you saw. Many of these old houses had them during the Renaissance, to avoid persecution from the Protestants, during Queen Elizabeth’s reign.”
He gave her an admiring smile. “You know your history.”
“I try.” She smiled back. “I want to find the secret passage, but first, my uncle. How on earth did he end up here?”
“I’ll check his pockets. Maybe he’s got some clue or evidence on him that will say.” Mr. Fairbanks began rifling through his trouser pockets, then his suit jacket. “Aha.”
From her uncle’s jacket pocket, Mr. Fairbanks removed a note.
“What does it say?” Violet asked.
