Arthur looked up at Cleo. “What if it was both?”
“Both?”
“Aye, did ye have place when ye were a wee bairn that ye liked tae hide when ye were reading or playing, when ye wanted tae be alone?”
“Yes,” Cleo nodded, looking at him in confusion. “Do you think that my father could have hidden another riddle there?”
“It is possible. We will nae ken until we look. Where is it, if ye dinnae mind me asking?”
“It is in the attic, but I have not been up there in years.”
“Then I believe that it is time tae do so, lass.”
Cleo nodded in agreement and stood.
Arthur arose and followed after her to the base of the stairs. They climbed up to the second floor, then moved to a door at the end of the hallway. Cleo lit a candle from a shelf by the door, turned the iron key that sat in the lock, and they climbed a second set of stairs to the attic above. As attics went, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Dusty crates and old chests, along with a ghostly phalanx of furniture covered in white sheets were everywhere.
“There are many places to hide things up here,” Cleo murmured, a slightly overwhelmed look on her face at the idea of needing to search the entire attic and all of its long-forgotten residents.
“Aye, that there are,” Arthur agreed, not too keen on the idea himself, but willing to do whatever it took.
Cleo led him over to the far corner of the attic, the furthest place from any windows or doors, and moved a chest away from the wall to reveal a hole in the wall behind it. It was not a large hole, but just big enough for a person to crawl through on their hands and knees. Arthur’s brows raised in surprise and he nodded. “If ever there were a place tae hide something, it would be in there.”
“Yes, I suppose that it would. I used to come up here to hide and read when Father was away in London or off elsewhere doing research, and Aunt Caroline would come to stay with me. I love my aunt, but everyone needs time to themselves, even children.”
“Aye, they do at that.” He smiled at the expression of a little girl’s guilt and frustration in her voice. “I had a place in the stable loft,” he admitted. “It nearly drove my grandfaither tae madness when he could nae find me and could nae climb the ladder tae come and fetch me away. I have nae doubt that the stablemaster and the groomsmen were less than pleased at having to come and get me.”
Cleo smiled, giggling slightly at the thought of him as a young lad hiding away from his future responsibilities. “Do you still go there now?”
Arthur grinned and nodded. “On occasion when I wish tae hide from the servants.” He chuckled at admitting such a thing. “Perhaps someday I will take ye tae my hiding place, as ye have been forced tae share yers with me.”
“I would like that.” Cleo smiled.
Now that both of their moods had improved a great deal over the exchange, they knelt down and peered into the hole. Cleo pushed the candle forward into the space in front of them, but the glow did not reach the full extent of the room, and so they were forced to crawl in on their hands and knees for a better look. Arthur had feared that he would not be able to stand in the small space but found that the roof was the same height as the rest of the attic once he was inside.
Cleo searched the floor and shelves for more candles and as soon as she was done, the room was fairly well lit. When she stood up beside Arthur to survey the room, her eyes widened. “I do not remember these being here before.” All over the walls and ceiling support beams hung a series of blank parchment papers. She reached forward to touch one. When it did not disintegrate at her touch, she pulled a few of the pages from the wall to see if they were hiding anything beneath. “Nothing.”
“Careful, lass,” he grabbed hold of the arm holding the pages that she had taken down from the wall and took the sheets from her. “Ye dinnae want tae burn the house down and us with it.”
“What?” she asked confused, giving him an odd look.
“The candle, lass, ye were holding the pages tae close tae the flame.”
“Oh, was I? I am sorry.”
“Ye were a wee bit distracted and rightly so.” Looking down at the parchment in his hand he noticed an oddity that was not there before. Bringing up closer for a better look to see if the page had actually taken light and burned, he instead discovered the faint outline of letters written in Henry’s hand. A grin broke out across Arthur’s face. “Henry, ye were a genius, ye were, auld lad.”
Cleo frowned at him as if he had gone mad. “What are you on about?”
“Look,” Arthur instructed holding the papers up to the light so that she could see.
“That is father’s handwriting!”
“Aye, the message is nae on the wall this time. This time it is where messages belong…”
“On paper,” Cleo finished for him now grinning as well. She turned to look at the sheer number of pages hanging in the room. “We will need them all.”
“Aye, we will at that,” Arthur agreed.
