“We don’t know what it says,” Mira said. “Maybe once we decipher it, we’ll see that the message isn’t important after all.”
“It has to be important, otherwise Circe wouldn’t be after it.” He mussed up his hair, looking over at Castel. “If it was Hoddle, he left from Henrietta Street and then came here. Where would he go afterwards? Where would he take her?” He stared blankly out the window.
There were several tense minutes where no one said anything at all. Mira’s chest heaved. Castel teetered in his chair and Mrs. Sherard stared off into space. Byron had a hand over his eyes.
What was she meant to do? Everyone was reeling from the shock of it all. She moved over to Byron and set a hand on his arm.
“We’ll find her.”
“It’s my fault that my family is in this mess,” Byron whispered, his voice thick. “What if we can’t find where he took her?”
“We’ll take it one step at a time. But we need to start now.”
He looked down at her. “Yes. Yes. Goodness, what am I doing? We only have two days.” His voice cracked as he pulled away from her, beginning to pace again. “We’ll need to talk to the postmaster and determine if anyone knows anything about Hoddle. He had to have arranged for the PO box. We can’t be too obvious about our questions though.” He whirled towards his brother.
“How are you feeling?”
Castel alternated shaking his head and nodding. “It’s all a bit fuzzy.”
“Let me know when you have your faculties back. I think I’ll need you for the search.”
“He needs to rest,” Mira said. “And you should work on decoding the documents, Byron. We’ll need them to fall back on.”
Byron grimaced. “I hate the idea of handing them over toCirce, regardless of what’s in it. We should be out searching for Mary.”
“We can’t make a decision one way or the other if we don’t know what the documents say. And Hoddle certainly won’t accept the sheet music on its own.”
“But we need to—”
“I can go to the post office,” Mira said. “And check with carriage drivers and messengers.”
“I can help too,” Mrs. Sherard said.
“Mamma . . .”
“No, I shan’t sit here waiting for all of you to do something. You may be the detective, she may be your sister, but she is mydaughterand we are going to get her back.” Mrs. Sherard stood, holding her cane in front of her. “Miss Blayse is right. We don’t have much time. If we are to be successful, we need to divide and conquer. You are the only one here who can decode whatever it is they are looking for. The two of us can make inquiries ourselves. And Castel...” She looked over at her other son who had drifted out of consciousness again. “Well, we had better get him to bed.”
***
After tucking Castel in and assuring Byronthat they would be all right, Mrs. Sherard bundled herself and Mira up and led the charge out the door.
“The post office will be closing soon,” she said to Mira as they climbed into a carriage. “If we’re to discover anything, we need to do it now. I don’t want to make an after-hours call to the postmaster’s house. His wife prattles on and we’d never get away.” Mrs. Sherard adjusted her gloves. “What do we know about Hoddle? Perhaps we can think of a lead as we drive.”
“Well, we know he isn’t actually a friend of Mr. Harris or the family. And he isn’t an admiral.”
“That is who he isn’t. Which is useful in its own way. But who is he?”
“We don’t know much. Only that he is working with Circe to find those documents.”
Mrs. Sherard pursed her lips. “He strikes me as a rather desperate man. And desperate men don’t think things through. Already, he’s made a mistake in showing his hand. Why, I doubt that he realized you knew about his false identity, and yet he’s taken such drastic actions. What might push him to go to these lengths?”
Next to her, Mira sat open-mouthed. In the span of the last hour, Mrs. Sherard had shown an entirely different side of herself. She really shouldn’t have been surprised, having only known the woman for not quite two weeks, but it was baffling nonetheless. The stern, cold and calculating woman that Mira thought Mrs. Sherard to be was melting away. Or rather, she was seeing those attributes in a different light. She was stern because she was resolute and disciplined. Cold because she was pragmatic and could set her feelings aside to get things done. Calculating because she analyzed everything she came across.
She reminded Mira so much of Byron.
These thoughts rushed through her head in an instant and she pushed them to the side, focusing on the matter at hand.
“I imagine he was under quite a bit of stress,” Mira said. “If Circe is intent on getting these documents and has been searching for so long, they are likely pressuring him to finish the job.”
