“Yes, m’lord.”
Arthur crumpled his napkin and got to his feet.
“You will excuse me, my dear,” he said. “I must be off. Later today I will let you have the list of social affairs that you are to attend this week.”
“Yes, Arthur,” she murmured in her most dutiful tones. She would not take hismy dearseriously, she told herself. The endearment was solely for Ibbitts’s benefit.
To her astonishment, he leaned down and kissed her; not on her cheek but directly on her mouth. It was a very brief, very possessive kiss; the sort of kiss a man bestowed upon a real fiancée.
Who would have guessed that Arthur was such an excellent actor? she mused, a bit dazed.
She was so rattled by the unexpected display of fraudulent affection that she could not speak for a moment. By the time she recovered, Arthur had left the dining room. She heard the muffled ring of the heels of his elegantly polished Hessians out in the hall.
“Will there be anything else, madam?” Ibbitts asked in a tone that suggested strongly that there could not possibly be anything of the sort.
“As a matter of fact, there is something else.” Elenora dropped her napkin on the table. “Please bring me the household accounts for the past two quarters.”
Ibbitts stared, uncomprehending, for several seconds. Then his cheeks turned a dull red. His mouth worked a few times before he managed to speak.
“I beg your pardon, madam?”
“I think that I made myself quite clear, Ibbitts.”
“The old earl’s man-of-affairs keeps the household accounts, ma’am. I do not have them. I merely keep a tally of the expenses and give the information to Mr. Ormesby.”
“I see. In that case, perhaps you can answer some questions for me.”
“What questions, ma’am?” Ibbitts asked warily.
“Where is the cook?”
“She quit her post a few months ago, ma’am. Haven’t been able to replace her. But Sally seems to be working out well in the kitchen.”
“Sally is, indeed, working very hard, but she is not cut out to be a cook.”
“I hope to hire a new cook from an agency soon,” Ibbitts muttered.
“Do you, indeed?” Elenora got to her feet and started toward the kitchen door.
“Where are you going, ma’am?” Ibbitts demanded.
“To consult with Sally about kitchen matters. Meanwhile, I suggest that you direct your efforts toward securing a new cook and another maid. Oh, yes, and we will require a couple of gardeners as well.”
Ibbitts’s eyes darkened with anger but he said nothing. Elenora felt a cold chill between her shoulder blades when she turned her back on him to enter the kitchen.
10
The killer made another adjustment to the heavy iron-and-brass machine and stood back to examine his handiwork. He was so close. He had solved the last great mystery in the ancient lapidary, the one his predecessor had failed to unravel. One or two final adjustments and the device would be complete. Soon the mighty power of Jove’s Thunderbolt would be his to command.
A feverish elation flashed through him, as hot and cleansing as an alchemist’s fire. His whole being thrilled to the prospect of success.
He glanced at his watch. It was nearly dawn. He walked through the laboratory, turning down the lamps. Then he picked up the lantern and entered the crypt.
He had learned that there were two secret entrances to the laboratory. The iron cage that descended from the ancient abbey overhead was useful, but he did not like to employ it frequently because he was concerned, as his predecessor had been, that oft-repeated use would invite the curiosity of those who lived nearby.
True, most people in the vicinity feared the abbey, believing it to be haunted. But some bold person might be tempted to overcome his dread if he happened to notice a fashionably dressed gentleman coming and going from the chapel every night. Therefore the killer reserved the iron cage for those occasions when he was in a hurry.
The lost river was the safer if more tedious route for his regular nightly trips to the laboratory.
