An Unexpected Pleasure (The Mad Morelands #4)(93)

“What the devil’s going on here?” Theo murmured, and they quickly disembarked from the carriage and hurried inside.

They were met by the butler, looking rather less composed than he usually did. “Lord Raine!” he exclaimed, looking relieved, and strode forward to meet them. “I am so glad you have returned.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid, sir, that someone attempted to break into the house.”

“What?” Theo glanced over at Megan, then back to the butler.

“They were lurking in the rear garden. One of the footmen saw a man peeking in a rear window. He gave chase, setting up a cry, but by the time he and the others got outside, the intruders were gone.” He paused, then added, “I thought it best to wait until you or Lord Reed came home and inform you of the attempt.”

“Yes, that’s good. No point in worrying my father.” Theo politely ignored the fact that his father, far from worrying, probably would have forgotten about the whole matter by morning.

“Quite so.” The butler was equally aware of his father’s propensities. “The intruders did drop something, though. Simms found it beneath the window where he had seen the man peering in. Doubtless he used it to try to pry the window open.”

The man held out his hand, with a slender rectangular object about four inches long held carefully between his forefinger and thumb, as though it might contaminate him.

“Excellent.” Theo reached out for the object, and as he brought it closer, Megan saw that it was a folding pocketknife.

The butler, having accomplished his mission, bowed and left. Theo looked down at the knife, and Megan, watching him, saw the color drain from his face.

“Theo! What is it?” She moved to his side, alarmed.

Theo was staring at the knife as though it had turned into a snake in his hand.

“Are you all right?” Megan asked. “Do you recognize it?”

“Yes. Oh, yes, I recognize it, all right. It belongs to me.” He turned his stunned face to look at her. “But ten years ago I lent it to Dennis.”





CHAPTER 18




A shiver ran down Megan’s back.

“My brother?” she asked. “Dennis had it?”

“Yes. He had lost his, and he was cutting something, and I gave mine to him and told him to keep it till he got another one. But then…”

“This is absurd,” Megan said crisply, dismissing her moment of superstitious fear. “It can’t be the same one. It probably just looks like it.”

“It is,” Theo insisted, holding it out to her. “Turn it over. There are my initials scratched on the back. I did it when I was ten. I got it for Christmas, and Reed got one just like it, and he was forever picking mine up. So I scratched my initials in it. It was a good knife. I carried it for years.”

Megan looked down at the knife, her thumb rubbing absently over the crudely carved TM on the handle.

“Coffey must have taken it from Dennis when he killed him,” Megan said at last. She looked up at Theo. “It is the only thing that makes sense. No doubt Dennis tried to defend himself when Coffey attacked him, and when he killed Dennis, he pocketed the knife. God knows why—it would have given it all away if you had ever seen him with it.”

Theo nodded. “You’re right. Of course. It gave me a turn when I saw it—but of course that is the only way the knife could have gotten here. It must have been Coffey who tried to break in—well, it couldn’t have been Coffey himself. But he must have sent someone to break in here tonight. Do you suppose he left it purposely? As some sort of warning?”

Megan shrugged. “It makes no sense. It only makes it clearer that Coffey killed Dennis.”

“I cannot imagine what sort of game he is playing at,” Theo mused, taking the knife and turning it over in his hand thoughtfully. “What could he hope to gain by breaking into our house?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps, as you said, it is a kind of warning. Mayhap he is threatening to kill you the way he did Dennis.”

“Yes, but usually a threat implies doing harm if one doesn’t do what someone else wants. But what is it Coffey wants? For us to stop digging into the past? This only makes me want to dig more.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t understand your personality.”

“Or yours,” Theo commented.

“There is something more going on here,” Megan mused. “There has to be. Why were those people at the museum tonight? They were obviously acting in secrecy. They had no lights outside to guide their way, and there were no lights visible in the museum. They dressed all in black, and slipped in and out on foot, not in their carriages or cabs—yet their clothes indicated that they are a well-heeled group, the sort who have their own vehicles. The women were veiled. The men wore their hats low.”

“Yes. They are clearly hiding,” Theo agreed.

“But why? My guess is that whatever is going on, it is in the cellar.”

“Because we could see no lights?” Theo asked. “That is what occurred to me—that they were holding their meeting below ground, where no light could shine through any windows.”

“Exactly. That is also where someone hit me over the head.”

Theo smoothed his hand over her hair. “That is another thing Coffey will have to answer for,” he murmured, as he bent and pressed his lips against her hair.