The librarian’s brow furrowed in thought, and Wrexford moved to the leaded glass window so as not to distract him. Down below in the courtyard, the shadows were beginning to deepen with the hues of twilight. Robes flapping like the wings of a raven—a traditional harbinger of ill omen—the Warden was hurrying across the grass toward the library’s main entrance, accompanied by a dour-looking man who was likely the local magistrate.
“I’m sorry, milord, but most of my time was spent in solitary study,” responded von Münch.
Wrexford turned. But before he could reply, the sound of footsteps came to life in the corridor.
“Wrexford!” The Warden paused in the doorway, looking flustered. “The magistrate is—”
“Is not pleased with your decision to have the body taken to London,” sputtered the magistrate, a dour-looking man whose face was bristling with indignation. “Highly irregular—”
“As Lord Grentham’s office may wish to be involved in the investigation, I thought it best to do so,” interrupted Wrexford, mouthing the lie without batting an eye.
He had recently done a rather large favor for Britain’s minister of state security. And though the two of them were not on friendly terms—in fact, if forced to choose between trusting Grentham or a cobra, the earl would not hesitate to pick the snake—he felt entitled to exploit the minister’s much-feared name for his own purposes.
The magistrate paled. Given Grentham’s reputation for ruthlessness, few people chose to cross paths with him. “I-In that case, I—I shall, of course, defer to the minister’s authority.”
He backed off and scuttled away, anxious to distance himself from even a shadow of danger.
The Warden turned to Wrexford with an anguished look. “Of course justice must be served, milord. B-But I pray that you will be able to keep Merton’s august reputation from being tainted by any whispers of skullduggery going on within these walls.”
“I shall do my best.” After gathering up the document case filled with Greeley’s notes, he added, “I will spend tomorrow in Oxford visiting Greeley’s rooms and seeking further clues as to who might have wished him ill before returning to London. However, I may need to come back, so please keep this office undisturbed until you hear from me.”
The Warden nodded.
After a last look around, Wrexford headed for the West Wing stairs. Von Münch hesitated, then followed.
As they cut around the college chapel’s sacristy, a breathless hail echoed off the ancient stones, which were now shadowed in twilight.
“Lord Wrexford!”
The earl paused and waited for Quincy to catch up. Someone was playing the chapel’s organ, the heartbreakingly beautiful notes of Mozart’sRequiemfloating out through an open side door.
“I’ve discovered the title of the manuscript, sir!” The young man’s face was flushed with excitement. “The under-librarian and I cross-checked through the ledgers, and we found it.” He offered the earl a slip of paper.
“Well done, Mr. Quincy,” said Wrexford as he unfolded it and read what was written.
Nihil Est Quod Hominum Efficere Non Possit.
Dredging up his schoolboy Latin, he translated the words—There is nothing that man can’t accomplish. It meant nothing to him, but perhaps one of his fellow members at the Royal Institution would have some idea of what sort of information the manuscript contained.
“Ummm . . .” Quincy shuffled his feet. “Since Balliol’s copy is now missing, I pressed the under-librarian on what other collections might also possess one. He suggested checking the King’s Library, which is currently located at Buckingham House.”
“Thank you.” The young man had the instincts of a good sleuth. “That was excellent thinking.”
“D-Do you think it will help us catch the cold-blooded fiend who murdered Mr. Greeley, sir?”
Von Münch went very still and regarded the earl with an expectant look.
A good question. Wrexford pocketed the slip. “As to that, perhaps you should go to the Radcliffe Library and search through the alchemy collection for instructions on how to brew a potion for good luck.”
For I have a feeling that we are going to need all the luck we can muster to solve this crime.
* * *
Raven put down the platter of ginger biscuits that he had filched from the kitchen, and after gobbling two of them, he began to strip off his shirt. “It’s dark enough for us to move unseen through the streets, and m’lady is working on a drawing, so let us head off to make some inquiries among our friends near Maudslay’s ruined laboratory.”
Peregrine watched Hawk hurry from the schoolroom into one of the adjoining rooms and begin rooting around under his bed for his sack of ragged clothing.
“I’m coming with you,” he said.
