“We’ll return to that in a moment once I finish with the preliminaries,” interjected Mrs. Guppy. “As a man of science, I assume you prefer to have as many facts as possible before you begin trying to solve a problem.”
“Correct,” answered Wrexford.
In response to Mrs. Guppy’s gesture, Carrick rose and moved to join her.
Sheffield found Cordelia’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Secondly,” continued Mrs. Guppy, “Mademoiselle Benoit is not the enemy, nor are the other members of the French scientific society—except for Jean-Paul Montaigne, the society’s president, who is allied with a group of radical French social reformers who are currently visiting London in order to spread their message to Britain.”
“Are you saying there aretwoFrench factions?” demanded Wrexford.
“Precisely, milord. Again, we’ll come back in a moment to their motives. But now to the crux of Jasper Milton’s murder.” Mrs. Guppy allowed herself a deliberate pause. “The most important thing for you to know is that he is not quite the victim he seems to be.”
“A bold assertion,” said Wrexford. “Naturally you will have strong evidence to back it up.”
“I shall let you judge for yourself, sir.”
Mrs. Guppy nodded at Carrick. “Now that Lord Wrexford has heard my preamble, Oliver, perhaps you can flesh out my words with what you know.”
“I shall do my best, Sarah.” Carrick cleared his throat. “It’s frightfully complicated, sir, and I confess I am still in the dark about a number of things. But as Mrs. Guppy has said, we must act quickly to avoid a grave threat to the present peace in Europe. We have reason to believe that Jasper’s papers are about to be sold to the French radicals—”
“Wait! First things first,” interrupted Wrexford. “Mrs. Guppy says you witnessed the murder. What I don’t understand is, why didn’t you immediately report it to the authorities and have the culprit arrested?”
“Because . . .” Carrick closed his eyes for an instant. “Because it was dark, and what with the swirling rain and fog of the storm, I didn’t actuallyseethe murderer. I could only make out a vague silhouette. But I heard Jasper address him as Axe and call him a good friend . . .” A hesitation. “And then Jasper added something about Axe acting as the steely force which kept him from spinning out of control.”
“What about Axe’s voice?” demanded Sheffield. “Given that Milton called him a good friend, and given that you and Milton were very close, surely you should have recognized it.”
“It was blowing like the devil, and the river was rushing against the rocks of the gorge.” Carrick gave a helpless shrug. “I just couldn’t identify it. And then, they dropped their voices. I heard nothing for a bit, and suddenly the lantern shifted, and I saw the silhouette of the murderer as he cleaned a knife on his sleeve and slid it back into his boot.”
The memory made him lose his composure for the moment.
Mrs. Guppy picked up the narrative. “Axe then bent over Jasper’s body and searched through his clothing. He found a packet inside Milton’s overcoat and slid it into his pocket.”
“What happened next was horrible,” stammered Carrick. “He lifted Jasper’s body and maneuvered it out onto what remained of the bridge and then . . . p-pushed the corpse into the ravine as if it were naught but a sack of stones.”
Cordelia covered her face with her hands.
“A branch cracked close to me, and Axe swung the lantern beam around to the bushes where I was hiding. I panicked and fled, uncertain as to whether he had seen me.”
“Think!” pressed Wrexford. “Have you truly no idea of who Axe could be?”
Carrick have a helpless shrug. “He was cloaked, and as I said, the wind was blowing like the devil, so I couldn’t even make out his shape. All I can say is that he was of average height.”
“We all have monikers for familiar friends, often based on a diminutive of their formal name—” began the earl.
“Or a personal humorous reason, known only to the two friends,” pointed out Sheffield. “So it’s hard to speculate on what ‘Axe’ might mean.”
The ensuing silence indicated that nobody disagreed.
“Given the weather and the hour, I can’t help but wonder—why were you there?” demanded Charlotte. She was finding it hard to make sense of Carrick’s story, and judging by Wrexford’s expression, so was he.
“Because I wanted to make a last effort to convince Jasper not to do what he was planning to do with his innovation.”
The earl muttered an oath. “Ye gods, if I were looking for endless melodrama, I would read one of Ann Radcliffe’s horrid novels.”
“Explain yourself, Oliver,” counseled Mrs. Guppy.
“Jasper was always an idealist.” Carrick looked to Cordelia, who gave a confirming nod. “One of the reasons he loved mathematics was because he saw it as pure and unambiguous. It could create what he referred to as ‘noble truths,’ which turned chaos into order.”
