I frowned. Dr. Sloane was keeping his cards very close to his chest, and I viewed that as even more of a reason not to trust his word, regardless of that sketch.
“What else did you want to ask me?” Gage shifted in his chair, trying to look calm and at ease, but I could see the tension in his frame—the tautness in his shoulders and jaw, and the gleam in his eye that told me he was paying close attention. It was the same gleam he got when he was interviewing a suspect or a witness. In this case, however, I knew he was not trying to interrogate me. He was simply nervous about what I had to say, and since I was anxious, too, that made me feel more on equal footing with him.
“This evening’s discoveries may have altered your answer somewhat, but I was wondering what you thought about Will’s innocence. I suppose I assumed you wouldn’t have revealed your relationship with Dr. Sloane had you not believed Will blameless in Miss Wallace’s disappearance.”
“You’re correct,” he replied, staring down at his black evening trousers. “I did not, and still do not, think he had a hand in Miss Wallace’s kidnapping.”
I leaned toward him. “So you think it was a kidnapping?”
“Little else makes sense. Though what has become of her, I cannot say.” His eyes narrowed in thought. “But it just seems too coincidental for them not to be linked in some way. Lord Dalmay must have known her.”
“He did.”
He looked up at me in surprise.
“After I galloped away from you this afternoon, I happened to stumble upon William and Mac.” I held up my hand to forestall any argument. “Don’t scold me. I didn’t know they would be there, and I wasn’t about to be so rude as to ignore them.”
Gage did not react, though I saw the strain it caused him not to do so in the muscles of his neck.
“I walked back to Dalmay House with them, and Will was in such a relaxed and talkative mood, I chanced asking him about Mary Wallace.”
“And?”
“Miss Remmington introduced them.”
“Really?” Gage asked in genuine interest.
I nodded. “Will spoke very highly of Miss Wallace. And, if I’m not mistaken, he might be a little taken with her.” My next words were sobering. “He didn’t seem to know that she was missing, and I didn’t think it my place to enlighten him.”
“No. It was probably best you didn’t.”
I wasn’t certain what that was supposed to mean, especially spoken in the quiet voice he used, but I chose to ignore it.
Besides, I had weightier worries on my mind. I eyed Gage surreptitiously, wishing he hadn’t paid me such a compliment on my honesty, not when I was already struggling with my decision over just how much to reveal about my interaction with Will that afternoon. Part of me wished to divulge all, while another felt that would not be in Will’s best interests. After all, what if those suspicions that were nagging at me proved to be nothing?
But that sketch of Will and the girl shed a different light on all of this, one that was far darker and more ominous. What if Will was responsible for the death of that girl in the asylum and Miss Wallace’s disappearance? I had not wanted to even contemplate it, but I could not ignore that drawing or Will’s own words to me. If I said nothing and Will harmed someone else, I wasn’t certain I could ever forgive myself.
I inhaled deeply. “There are two other things you should know about my conversation with Will this afternoon,” I murmured solemnly.
He listened quietly, maintaining a neutral expression as I told him about the boat stored in Banbogle’s ruins and how Will had told me he could escape from his chambers anytime he wished. When I finished, he laced his hands together over his stomach and considered the matter. “How is he making his escapes? Did he say?”
I shook my head. “But my guess, at least after this evening, is that it’s through that door to the servants’ stairs.”
“And no one saw him or thought to stop him?”
I couldn’t answer that. In such a large manor house there was likely another servants’ staircase on the other side of the building; perhaps that was the set most often used.
“Who is leaving that door unlocked and why? I’m sure you realize it must be Mac or Donovan. Or Michael,” he added as an afterthought. “Though, his anger this evening at finding it unlocked seemed genuine enough.”
“What of the boat?” I asked, reluctant to hear his opinion, but unable to stop myself from asking.
“You’re thinking of the boat Craggy Donald saw leaving Cramond Island, are you not?”
I nodded.
He tilted his head. “If it was Lord Dalmay, why was he headed out to sea instead of back toward the Dalmay estate?”