Simon went to the door and leaned out into the corridor. There was another of the metal bugs fluttering at a lamp in the hall. He then noted a number of the square holes high up in the wainscoting throughout the house.
A servant paused. “Sir? May I help you?”
“No, thank you. Just noting the, um, lamplighters.”
“Oh yes. The lampflies.” The young man looked around as if he no longer even noticed the little automata flying about. “They’ll all be back in their hives soon.”
“I hear hissing. Are those lamps gas?”
The servant continued to show politeness. “Of a sort, sir. Sir Roland again.”
“Amazing.” Simon returned to the library.
Nick stood by the French windows and threw them open. “Going for a walk to check out the grounds. I’ll be back in a while and we can start for London.”
“Be careful where you step and have a look for lycanthrope signs, will you.” If a werewolf had killed Hibbert, it wouldn’t be implausible that it might be stalking Imogen. Simon had never heard of the beasts being so methodical; still, it was better to err on the side of caution.
He heard footsteps approaching the door. Kate entered slowly, her body bearing the weight of the last couple of days. To Simon, she looked lovely and charged with determination despite her unruly hair and the dark shadows under her eyes.
“How is your sister?” Simon asked, pouring coffee for her.
“Confused.” Kate drank gratefully. “Seems to have no sense of what has occurred the last few days. Perhaps that is for the best. And she’s very anxious. Walking around the house. She went into father’s private study and started looking at everything as if she’d never seen it before.”
“That’s not surprising, I suppose.”
“I gave her the dose from Dr. White, and she is resting now.”
“It will ease the trauma of what happened to her in Hibbert’s company.” Simon shook his head sadly. “When did your sister’s odd gentleman caller begin courting her?”
“Late summer.”
Around the time the werewolf killings began in London,, thought Simon grimly.
Kate took a small cloth and laid it over the crystalline machine, dousing the fractured light that sparkled through the room. She noted Simon’s look of curiosity, and said, “Sometimes I can’t bear the reflections.”
“May I ask what that machine does?”
“I have no idea.” She shrugged with a bemused smile. “My father built it.”
“Amazing. Did he build those mechanical insects as well?”
“The lampflies? Yes, one of his favorites. You’ll see many things around Hartley Hall that he crafted, Mr. Archer. He was an engineer of extraordinary talent. But his mind could run swiftly. He would sometimes build and abandon.” Kate looked around the library. “Where’s Mr. Barker?”
“He’s taking a stroll in the gardens.”
“Oh.” She said with a tinge of alarm. “That may not be safe.”
A man’s shout came from outside. A figure appeared through the glass, running headlong toward the house with something large loping behind him.
Kate rushed to the French windows and threw them open. The man raced gratefully past her into the library, while Kate faced outward and threw her arms wide. A gigantic shaggy grey beast bounded at her, all legs and teeth. Simon started for her side.
“Aethelred!” she shouted. “No!”
A huge wolfhound crashed against her, wide paws on her chest, its massive head above her shoulders. She wrapped herself around the lumbering dog, straining to hold him. He crashed back to the ground, nearly taking Kate with him. The dog went placid instantly, slapping the doorframe with his gigantic tail. Kate took a deep breath of relief and pounded the beast’s shoulder lovingly. She stepped back into the library, with the dog pressing her to one side.
Simon let out a breath and looked askance at Nick. “It’s just a great puppy. No doubt quite harmless.”
“Oh no,” Kate said. “He’s extraordinarily harmful.”
“He didn’t even bark,” Nick sputtered. “Luckily, I turned and saw him charging.”
“He never barks before he attacks.”
Nick slid from the shelter of Simon, muttering, “I don’t know why you feel the need of attack horses.”
Kate laughed as she muscled Aethelred back outside and closed the door. The dog stood breathing mist onto the glass, following his mistress’s every move. “Don’t let Aethelred’s rudeness overshadow my gratitude for your efforts. I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for Imogen, and for me.”
“You’re quite welcome.” Simon leaned over the keyboard of an aging pianoforte. Out of habit, Simon took the key from his waistcoat and began to twirl it idly between his fingers.
Kate’s eyes locked onto the key and she came quickly from the window. Simon tightened his grip out of instinct as she reached for it, saying, “Where did you get that?” She took hold and stared intently at the bow of the key, where the filigree flared into a symbol, a stylized compass.