“A-Are you suggesting that the incident with the footpads in the park wasn’t a random attack?” interjected Wheeler.
“Let’s just say that I find it an unsettling coincidence,” he answered. “So if I were you, I would leave London until the crimes are solved and the culprit is apprehended.” The wind gusted again, once again reversing direction. “After all, better safe than sorry.”
“Egad.” Wheeler blew out his breath. “Well, as it so happens, I have been invited to visit the provost of Eton to discuss taking charge of an important bridge renovation near Windsor Castle, and I’ll be spending a week as a guest of the school in order to inspect the nearby site.” He paused to blot his brow. “I leave at first light tomorrow.”
“A fortuitous happenchance. I am glad to hear it,” said the earl. “One never knows when trouble might rear its ugly head.”
* * *
“My dear Falcon, if you think something is amiss, then it likely is,” said Charlotte. “So please don’t hesitate to tell us about it, no matter how unconnected it might seem.”
“Very well.” Peregrine drew in a deep breath. “To begin with, on the first day of classes, it was announced that Eton’s long-time drawing master was taking a leave of absence for the coming term, and that his replacement was a Frenchman—”
“A Frenchman,” she exclaimed. “You are sure?”
“Yes, m’lady. We were told that we were lucky to have him, for he had lived for the past decade in Rome and so was highly skilled in teaching the elements of classical design and proportion.” A pause. “The thing is, Mr. Valencourt knew nothing about art.”
He hesitated. “The other boys didn’t notice. But because of you and things you’ve explained to us about the basics of drawing, it struck me as very odd. His lessons consisted of passing out paper and pencils and giving a few muddled platitudes about trusting our eye. He then would tell us to draw a chair, or if the weather was pleasant, he would send us outside to sketch a tree or a detail from one of the buildings, and then went off—I know not where—and left us on our own.”
“That does seem to raise some questions,” she mused.
“Then one night, I—I climbed out of the window of my quarters in town and returned to Eton,” confessed Peregrine, “where I made my way to the main courtyard and crept into the Upper School. I knew the under-master kept a private library of scientific books and a collection of chemicals for his own experiments in his study room,”
A sigh. “You see, scientific subjects are not part of our curriculum, so students aren’t permitted access to them.”
“Because heaven forfend that such a respected bastion of education should deign to teach the boys any useful subjects for modern life,” muttered Cordelia.
“Indeed, it’s antediluvian thinking,” agreed Charlotte, but then quickly encouraged Peregrine to continue.
“I know it was wrong of me, but I wanted to find a way to make my stink bombs more noxious,” he said. “So I took one of the books and the box of chemicals to a nook just below one of the windows, so I could read by the moonlight. But then, I heard the door creak open and saw Mr. Valencourt enter. He had a small shuttered lantern and angled the narrow beam of light so that he could riffle through papers on the under-master’s desk and in its drawers.”
“Definitely havey-cavey,” said Cordelia.
“That’s not all, m’lady. The day before, I had hidden in the school chapel after my last class rather than return right away to my lodging house in order to borrow one of the glass bottles used for scented oils for my stink bomb. And I overheard the provost of Eton talking to someone about a collection of very rare and valuable books that he had borrowed from the royal librarian at Windsor Castle, and how they were being kept under lock and key in the under-master’s study room to ensure their safety.”
“What sort of books?” asked Charlotte.
“They moved on to the passageway leading to the Upper School, so I didn’t hear the rest of their conversation, m’lady. But I saw Mr. Valencourt draw a length of thin steel from his boot—just like the type of lockpick that Wrex carries—and open one of the oak storage chests that is used to store valuables.”
Peregrine stopped for a moment to steady his voice. “I was frightened out of my wits and didn’t dare move a muscle. Punishment for any infraction of the school rules is awfully harsh.”
“I’m well aware of the brutal traditions of these prestigious schools,” said Charlotte in a taut voice. She knew that boys were often beaten with a cane for even the smallest offense, and while she decided to say no more on the subject for now, she made a mental note for A. J. Quill to compose a commentary on the beastly practice in the near future.
“I trust that he did not spot you,” she added.
“No, m’lady. I have a good deal of practice at losing myself in the shadows.”
“As Kit is working with the provost of Eton on the Bristol Road Project, perhaps he can make a discreet inquiry about the contents of the specific books,” suggested Cordelia. “We can—”
She stopped in midsentence on hearing Mademoiselle Benoit give a tentative hail as she started down the stairs to the kitchen.
“Madame Sheffield? Are you down there?”
Charlotte gestured for Peregrine to exit the kitchens through the passageway leading to the scullery.
“Yes, yes, do come join us,” answered Cordelia.
“Would you care for some tea?” called McClellan.
