A small flame sparked to life.
Nothing looked amiss in the sitting room. The bedchamber door was closed, and the only sound disturbing the late-night silence was the muted rhythmic ticking of the mantel clock.
Wrexford moved quietly across the room, but as he touched the door latch a sharp metallic scent warned him of what he was going to find inside.
Sheffield smelled it too, for he let out a wordless hiss.
The taper’s light showed Garfield lying in a twisted position, one arm extended on the dark wood floor. His sightless eyes were widened in shock, the left breast of his white nightshirt stained garnet-red by the spreading circle of blood.
The earl knelt beside the body and felt for a pulse. “He’s dead. The flesh is slightly cool, so I would guess it happened around an hour ago.”
Sheffield looked around. “He doesn’t appear to have put up a struggle.”
“Hard to say,” replied Wrexford, taking his time to observe every detail of the corpse. “I—”
He stopped short and held the flame closer to Garfield’s right hand, which was lying palm down, the bloodied forefinger extended.
“Have a look at this,” he said.
Sheffield crouched down beside him. “Holy Hell, he’s drawn some sort of marks on the floorboard. It looks like two letters, with a line between them. . .” He squinted at the reddish tracing. “Is the first letter . . . an ‘O’?” He looked up in dismay. “A-And . . . second one a ‘C’?”
“Yes, it looks so to me.” Wrexford drew in a troubled breath. “Which doesn’t bode well for Oliver Carrick.”
* * *
Mist rippled over the dark water. Ghosting through the tall reeds and marsh grasses growing along its bank, Raven and Peregrine approached the tall perimeter wall surrounding a private estate—a grand Tudor manor house and grounds set on the River Thames adjacent to Fulham Palace and its magnificent botanical gardens.
Mademoiselle Benoit’s hackney carriage had just passed through its main gates. The Weasels had quickly climbed down from their carriage and paid the driver to wait in a cul-de-sac for their return. But rather than risk having the three of them spotted sneaking into the main courtyard, it was decided that Hawk—as the smallest and most agile—would slip in and observe what was happening before they decided on their next move.
To their left, Raven noted a boathouse and a dock jutting out into the water. To their right, a majestic oak loomed up from behind the weathered stone, its leaves chittering softly in the night breeze.
“We’ll wait in the tree’s shadow for Hawk’s signal,” he whispered, indicating the landmark they had picked out for the rendezvous,
“What is this place?” asked Peregrine, once they had crouched down by the wall.
“Dunno,” answered Raven. He glanced around, assessing the best way to get up and over the wall. “But my guess is that despite its fancy trappings, nothing but dark mischief is happening inside it.”
“Oiy. Why else would mademoiselle—”
“Sshhh!” The sharp crunch of gravel rose above the other night rustlings. “It sounds like the hackney is leaving.”
A few moments later, a hiss from above caused them to look up.
“Mademoiselle entered the house,” said Hawk. “It looks to be a private residence. There are no guards or dogs patrolling the grounds.”
“Then let’s take a closer look at what’s going on.” Raven was already on his feet, his hands fisted in the thick vines of ivy that were growing up the wall. He joined his brother atop the decorative limestone coping and waved for Peregrine to join them.
The stately house was dark, save for the glow of lamplight flickering in the windows of a room overlooking the back terrace.
“It took some fierce knocking on the door for someone to let mademoiselle in,” explained Hawk. “I don’t think she was expected.”
“It looks like m’lady and Wrex were right to—” began Peregrine.
Raven hissed for silence as the terrace door opened. A short, stout woman—she was wearing a hooded cloak which hid her face—stepped out. “Fetch the box of tools from the mud room, and bring it down to the dock,” she called to someone inside as she lit a marine lantern.
Raven slithered down through the ivy on the inside of the wall and gestured for the others to follow.
“Move quickly to the dock—and quietly,” he said. “We need to see what they are up to.”
