“Lady Cordelia has been here.” He held up the ribbon, its curling tail fluttering in the drafty gloom. “She’s extremely fond of this particular shade of burgundy.”
“It’s not an uncommon color,” pointed out Charlotte. “We mustn’t jump to conclusions—”
“It has her scent,” said Sheffield flatly. He looked down at his hands, the slight movement wreathing his face in shadow.
“There’s other evidence that she and the others have been here recently,” interjected the earl. “And it appears that they left in a hurry.”
“I didn’t warn them, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I’m not, Kit,” replied Wrexford. “I trust that you would have told me if you had.”
Their friend released a pent-up breath. “Thank you for that. I know I’ve been a fool—”
“There’s nothing foolish about friendship and loyalty,” cut in Charlotte. “And until we find out what’s going on, let us try not to assume the worst.”
“The worst?” A mirthless snort. “What other possible explanation can there be?”
Her throat constricted. She wouldn’t insult him with fairie tales.
“As I’ve said before, idle speculation is useless,” announced Wrexford. “Let’s take a closer look at Professor Sudler’s study and then search the outbuildings to see if there’s any tangible clue as to what they’re up to.” He turned on his heel. “Or where they might have gone.”
Ever logical, thought Charlotte.Thank heavens.They mustn’t allow Sheffield to fall into a chasm of blue-deviled brooding.
Sudler’s desk yielded nothing but academic correspondence and page after page of incomprehensible formulas peppered with cryptic notes.
“The man is either a genius,” muttered Sheffield as he thumbed through a notebook, “or stark raving mad.”
“Sometimes the line between the two is razor thin,” observed the earl. He slammed a drawer shut. “I think we’ve seen enough here. Perhaps we’ll have better luck outside.”
They made quick work of a shed, which held only a jumble of garden tools and broken terra-cotta pots, then moved on to the small stable. The three stalls and the tiny hayloft also told them naught but that a horse and cart had been housed there recently. The largest of the three structures, however, held a hint of promise. Its heavy iron-banded door was fastened with a massive padlock.
“Damnation,” said Sheffield. “That’s one of those newfangled German puzzle locks. I doubt you—”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” murmured Wrexford as he once again pulled the steel probe from his boot. “Tyler and I . . .”Click-click.“Were rather curious as to how these mechanisms worked . . .”Click-click.“So we did a bit of study on the principles . . .”Click-click.“And disassembled several models in order to examine—”
The lock’s shank released with a well-oiled snick.
“Ah, excellent.” The earl allowed a grim smile. “Tyler will be delighted to hear that our surmise about the levers working the same way on all models is correct.”
“You really must show me how to do that,” said Charlotte.
“Ha! You find a way to winkle out enough secrets as it is,” said Wrexford dryly. Taking up the lantern he had brought from the stable, he quickly struck a spark to the wick and beckoned them to follow him inside.
The still air had an oddly metallic chill to it, thought Charlotte as she stepped into the darkness. The windows were all tightly shuttered, which seemed to amplify the echo of their steps on the stone floor.
“Have a care,” cautioned the earl as he felt his way forward. “There appears to be some rather large machinery in here.”
She came to a halt on hearing him rustle around. A moment later, one of the shutters came open, revealing . . .
“Merciful heavens.” Charlotte sucked in her breath.
Sheffield, too, was looking around the long and narrow room in wonder as Wrexford pried open several more of the window covers. “It looks like something out of Greek mythology. You know, the workshop of that fellow who served as blacksmith to the immortals of Olympus.”
“Hephaestus,” said the earl. “The god of fire and metalworking.” He picked up a hammer from one of the work counters and tapped it against his palm. An array of intricate machinery made of iron, steel, and brass—lathes, drill presses, and fanciful assemblies that Charlotte couldn’t begin to name—stretched down the entire length of the building. On the opposite wall hung a phalanx of hand tools and shelves above a work counter.
“He forged tools and weapons for the other gods,” went on Wrexford. He put down the hammer and plucked a small brass object from a row arrayed atop a piece of felt on the corner of the counter. “The engineering of this is remarkable,” he said after holding it up to the light.
Charlotte moved to a different section of the counter. “Look! There’s a set of mechanical drawings here. And they appear to be duplicates of the ones we found.”
