Papa Oliver muttered about the letters, then started complaining again about the troublemakers who reported them, gesturing for Jenkins to hand him the smallest brush. But Jenkins, lost in thought, accidentally grabbed Chocolate's tail instead.
"So, these three anonymous tips are all baseless accusations?"
Jenkins asked, tending to the fresh scratches on the back of his hand.
"All three letters were delivered to the church last night. How could they possibly have finished an investigation by now?"
Papa Oliver retorted, then added a word of caution:
"But they're almost certainly slander. The Church is always investigating matters related to the Skull Sword, the Pirate King, and the followers of the God of Lies. But there isn't a single witness or shred of physical evidence to prove anything ntioned in those letters..."
He shrugged at Jenkins, a gesture that clearly implied the Church had already dismissed the letters as forgeries.
Jenkins wanted to argue, but after a long mont of thought, he couldn't find the right words. It was all an incredible coincidence, yet on reflection, the Church's conclusion seed perfectly logical.
"In that case, I'll start my own investigation imdiately. The fox always shows its tail eventually!"
He made his decision, only to second-guess it a mont later.
"No, I can't start now. The first priority is to deal with the seal beneath Mr. Pisco's apartnt."
He had been so exhausted the past couple of days that by this evening—Sunday—Jenkins still hadn't finished the book Papa Oliver had assigned him. But his ntor, understanding that he had spent the entire previous day helping out at the cetery, postponed the deadline for his reading notes until the following week.
After work, Jenkins had planned to go find the key and gold pounds Mr. Pisco had hidden, but it was only during dinner at ho that he suddenly rembered: Hathaway had invited him to her house tonight.
"I rember she said I could bring you, right?"
He reached out and stroked Chocolate, who was busy eating with his head bowed. The cat imdiately let out a compliant ow. For so reason, the cat had been exceptionally well-behaved all week—so well-behaved it was a little unsettling.
As much as Jenkins appreciated Chocolate's good behavior, he sotis wondered if the cat had been cursed.
By the ti he stepped out of the carriage in front of Hathaway's house, the sky was completely dark. The street had yet to be fitted with gaslights, and the thick fog plunged the entire neighborhood into blackness. Yesterday's snow had been cleared away, and only by putting on his monocle could he make out the dark, slushy piles heaped against the walls.
He paid the fare, straightened his clothes, and settled the cat on his shoulder before ringing the bell by the door.
The echo of the bell had hardly faded when Hathaway burst out of the house, looking flustered.
"Why didn't you have a servant get the door?"
Jenkins teased.
"What took you so long?"
the red-haired girl demanded, her tone sharp. She grabbed Jenkins by the hand and yanked him inside.
The living room had been tidied, and two maids were bustling about, setting up a dining table with candles and roses.
"Are we having a candlelight dinner?"
"Not with you."
Without breaking stride, Hathaway pulled Jenkins up the stairs to the second floor. She led him into the familiar room, swung open the wardrobe door, and gestured for him to climb inside.
"What... what is this for?"
Jenkins asked, hesitating.
"Get in, please, Mr. Williams!"
The red-haired girl commanded, pointing a finger at the dark interior of the wardrobe. Her face was flushed, though whether it was from the heat of the house or sothing else, he couldn't tell.
Hathaway had never used such a tone with him before, and Jenkins was at a loss for how to react. So, with his cat in tow, he ducked his head and stepped into the wardrobe.
There were still so clothes hanging inside, but it was obvious she had cleared out most of the clutter to make room for him.
As he settled in, he whispered a question about when he might be able to leave, but Hathaway didn't answer.
"Oh, Jenkins, do you have an ability like 'Dark Vision'?"
she asked just before shutting the door.
"I do."
"Take these, so you won't get too bored. And please, wait patiently. Don't make a sound."
With that, she grabbed three books from a nearby shelf, tossed them to Jenkins, and firmly pushed the door shut, ignoring his protests. A few seconds later, he heard the scrape of a chair being wedged against the wardrobe doors, followed by the sound of her footsteps receding from the room.
"What in the world is going on?"
he wondered, thoroughly confused. Even if she ant to hold him captive, this was far too simple a thod. He lifted the cat from his shoulder, but Chocolate offered no answers.
"I wonder what ti I'll be able to leave tonight. Maybe we can stop and pick up Mr. Pisco's things on the way ho."
He mulled over his plans for later, then glanced at the three books Hathaway had given him. They were titled: *Learn How to Knit*, *A Handbook for the Careless Owner: Raising Your Pet Cat*, and *A Guide to Appreciating Thirteenth-Century Art*.
"What is all this?"
He had no interest in knitting, he already had plenty of experience raising a pet, and the last book was clearly for beginners, offering no real professional insight.
"Well, I suppose I'll read this one. It's better than sitting here bored."
As he spoke, he opened *A Handbook for the Careless Owner: Raising Your Pet Cat*. Chocolate imdiately began to fidget with agitation.
He waited in silence for nearly an hour and a half before he finally heard footsteps on the stairs again. In the interim, a guest had arrived, and the faint sounds of conversation and music from downstairs were hardly worth ntioning. But from what he could glean, Jenkins understood that Hathaway's dinner companion was Briny.
The two arrivals ca upstairs and entered the room. Jenkins imdiately set his book aside, held Chocolate close, and pressed his eye to the crack between the wardrobe doors.
Both young won were dressed in beautiful gowns of a sumr style. The house was warm enough, though, so they wouldn't feel the chill.
Hand in hand, they sat on the edge of the bed and chatted for a while, mostly about the trivialities of daily life. Then, they opened a bottle of wine that sat on the nightstand, where two glasses had already been prepared.
They had only finished half a glass of wine when, without warning, Briny stood up, drew the curtains, and locked the door. A very bad feeling began to creep over Jenkins.
He licked his lips and held his breath, his eyes wide, feeling his heart pound in his throat. Through the crack, he heard the rustle of clothing being removed, the sound of the girls' soft laughter, whispered kisses, and then the shifting of bedsheets...
"Great Sage, am I dreaming?"
he groaned internally, fighting to quiet his ragged breathing. But his eyes remained glued to the sliver of light from the crack.
...
Reviews
All reviews (0)