“Christ Church is another of Hawksmoor’s churches.” Kate leaned in now to study the pages.
“That’s clearly no coincidence.” He continued reading. “Or if the Metropolitan Police have their way, you do not. In any case, as you will see from the enclosed, two women have now been murdered in similar inexplicably brutal fashion at London churches. The police, when they speak of it at all, refer to these two as the Sacred Heart Murders. How clever of them. I know that you have certain particular interests, you and your friend, Mr. Barker—”
“He knows you’re a magician?” Kate exclaimed.
“If true, it’s surprising. I never gave Henry much credit for noticing anything. I did mention the ritualistic nature of the murder in my letter to him. He likely thinks I’m some sort of cabalist or Rosicrucian. A poseur dilettante who toys with occultism, like the chaps at the Mercury Club.”
“And you’re not?” Kate asked with bland sarcasm.
Simon offered her a cool glance. “Perhaps you’re forgetting I pulled a hedgehog from a hat.”
“I had indeed forgotten that particular miracle. Forgive me.”
“If I may? Where was I … I know that you have particular interests, you and your friend, Mr. Barker, which may lend themselves to a unique angle on these blasphemous crimes. I fear there is little likelihood of a solution coming from official sources. There are no authorities currently looking for the author of these murders. I only have the enclosed documents because they were handed to me in a collection of refuse with instructions from superiors in the Home Office to destroy them.”
Simon tapped a finger against his chin. “Well, good for you, Henry. I see we won’t be helping the authorities on this matter. We’ll be the authorities.”
When Kate didn’t reply, he glanced at her to see she was distracted, surprisingly. She stared into the bright blue sky, half lifting from her seat. Simon followed her gaze, but only noticed a few wispy clouds and a single distant bird.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“That bird.” She stood and started for the library, keeping her attention skyward. After a minute, she returned with a brass spyglass. She put it to her eye and twisted the lens. “It doesn’t look right.”
“In what way?” He thought the small black shape seemed to be a normal bird wheeling in the air. It dropped and spiraled downward.
Hogarth returned to the patio carrying a long rifle. He put the butt to his shoulder and waited.
Simon laughed. “With everything you’ve seen here at Hartley Hall, this seems a bit extreme for a sparrow.” The little creature rolled for another pass around Hartley Hall.
Kate continued to track it with the telescope until it vanished from sight beyond the roof. “It appears to be a common swift, but they’re almost never here in winter. It’s alone, and it isn’t making any noise. Hogarth, stand ready. I don’t like it.”
The manservant put his cheek against the rifle and aimed where he expected the bird’s path would reveal itself next. Simon didn’t say anything else. He had little doubt the bird was a normal swift, but if it disturbed Kate, so be it. It was a little distressing, however, to see her so fixated on something so undisturbing just when they had received such momentous news from Henry.
He reached for the spyglass and without seeming impatient, starting scanning for the offending avian intruder. A small shape flitted from behind the cover of a chimney at rooftop level. He brought the bird into clear sight through the glass. In an instant, Simon saw that Kate was right; it was not normal.
Simon swung the spyglass against the barrel of Hogarth’s rifle just as it went off with a smoky boom. The lead bullet ripped through a line of shrubs and cracked off a dormant fountain in the garden.
“Simon!” Kate stared at him in shock, then looked back at the strange bird that glided toward them. The swift’s eyes glowed unnatural blue. Kate also reached into her high boot for a thin dagger.
“Stop.” Simon seized her arm. “It’s from Penny. It’s one of her mechanical creatures.”
Kate still held the knife ready but hesitated as the little bird landed on the bricks and hopped a few paces. It stopped at Simon’s feet, looking up with a turn of its head. The brass and metal of its body glinted in the sunlight, showing off miniscule gears and tight seams of segmented copper. One could hear the faint sounds of ratcheting and tight springs winding down. It hopped to the door of the library and began to peck on the glass. When its beak parted Penny’s voice came out, “Simon Archer, please.”
Simon stared at the bird with bemusement. “Um. This is Simon Archer.”
The mechanical swift chirped and whistled, then twisted its head about. It fluttered into the air and landed nimbly on Simon’s shoulder. He heard the faint whisper of Penny, “Simon, please come to my shop. Quickly. Don’t bring Malcolm.”