"We're not staying for tea," I said. "We only have one or two quick questions, and we'd be grateful if you answered them honestly."
Matt frowned at me and arched a brow in question.
"We're busy," I told him and the priest.
"Yes, of course," Father Antonio said. "I'll answer as honestly as I can, naturally, but I don't know anything of importance to you."
Matt gave a small grunt and pressed his fingertips to his heart. His face turned even paler.
"Matt?" I said. "Was is it?"
"Nothing." He lowered his hand to his side. "I'm fine."
"Do you require smelling salts?" the priest asked.
Matt waved him away and gave a reassuring smile. It did not reassure me. I watched him closely. His lips remained white, pinched, as if he were in pain. Did he need his watch again? Why the pain this time and not mere tiredness? I didn't like it.
"We should go," I said.
He grabbed my hand. "We have questions for Father Antonio."
"Then please sit," Father Antonio said.
Matt sat then frowned at me until I sat too. I clutched my reticule in my lap, prepared to leap up at any moment to extract his watch from its hidden pocket and place it in his hand. I didn't care if Father Antonio saw.
"Who made the crucifix in the meeting hall behind the school?" Matt asked.
The priest blinked at him. "I'm not sure. Why?"
"Was it you?"
"No. Mr. Glass, why do you ask such an odd question?"
"Was it one of the nuns?"
"I don't know. It's been there for years. Since before my time."
"The building isn't more than a few years old and you were here twenty-seven years ago at least," Matt said. "So who made it?"
"I told you, I don't know. The building was built and someone put it in there shortly after. That's all I know. I ask again, why?"
Matt's fingers, resting on his knee, curled up. His eyelids fluttered closed then reopened. "What do you know of magic?"
The priest blanched. "Only what has been printed in the newspapers in recent days. I don't believe it, of course. Utter nonsense."
I couldn't detect a lie but I was somewhat distracted by Matt and not entirely focused on the priest.
"Why are you asking such an absurd question? Surely you don't believe in magic, Mr. Glass. You're an educated, intelligent man. Magic is…is childish fantasy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
Matt scrubbed his jaw and sucked in a sharp breath. He let it out slowly.
"Matt?" I asked. "Your watch?"
He shook his head. "Father Antonio, you must know something about Mother Alfreda's disappearance and that of the babies. Someone here must know."
The priest clasped his hands between his knees. "This is harassment. I thought the commissioner was going to speak to you."
"He did," I said. "But he knows it's important to get to the bottom of this mystery. Now, please answer Mr. Glass's questions. What do you know?"
Father Antonio shook his head. "I have nothing to say."
"Is that so?" I snapped. "Because you know nothing or because you're not willing to tell us anything?"
"I beg your pardon! Miss Steele, Mr. Glass, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." He stood and indicated the door.
Matt drew in another sharp breath and both hands formed fists. The pain had returned. We needed to leave—and quickly.
"Matt," I said again. "Let's go."
"Not yet." He uncurled his fists.
Well, if he wouldn't leave without answers, it was vital we got some without delay. I could think of only one way to do that. "Father," I said, "has anyone confessed to the murder of Mother Alfreda?"
"Murder!"
"Yes."
"I wasn't expecting you to be so forthright, India," Matt muttered.
"We have no time for finesse. Well, Father? Has someone confessed to you?"
Father Antonio sat heavily. "Confessions are confidential," he said flatly. "I won't be breaking that trust."
That was tantamount to a yes in my book. In that case, I had no choice but to use the last remaining weapon available to me. "Very well," I said. "If you do not tell us what was confessed to you about the disappearances of the babies and Mother Alfreda, then we will write to your bishop and tell him about your indiscretions with Abigail Pilcher when she was a nun here. Do you understand what I'm saying?" I felt a little filthy for blackmailing him, but I had no choice. Matt wanted answers before leaving and this was the fastest way to get them. Indeed, it was the only way.
Matt did not protest so I suspected he agreed.
"That is…! You cannot…!" Father Antonio spluttered something incoherent and sank further into the chair. "You are unchristian and unfeeling," he said sulkily.
"And you are the father of a twenty-seven year old man," I said. "He's doing well for himself. Do you ever wonder what became of him?"
His face flushed and he looked away.
"Just tell us what you know," I urged him.
"I cannot. I broke one vow when Abigail and I—" He cut himself off. "I cannot break another, after all these years. I will not. But I will tell you something that I observed at the time. Telling you doesn't break any rules of the confessional."
"What is it?" I asked on a rushed breath.
Matt leaned forward, looking a little healthier again, thankfully.
"I happened to be in the convent's grounds the night Mother Alfreda disappeared." Father Antonio blushed and I suspected his reason for being on convent property was to meet Abigail in secret. "I was in the small woods at the back when I saw one of the sisters passing by. She headed into the woods carrying a spade and a box." He indicated the approximate size with his hands, two feet by two. "She emerged some time later without the box. I was curious so went looking for it but couldn't find it."
"Who was the nun?" I asked.
"I didn't see her face."
"Did you see any freshly turned earth when you investigated?" Matt asked.
"No, but it was dark. I never did go back to search in the daylight."
"Can you show us where in the woods?" I asked.
"No, I will not. The woods are still there, however some of it has been cleared away to allow the school children more space. I advise you not to take it upon yourselves to look around. Someone may grow suspicious."
I met Matt's gaze and tried not to show my triumph. Father Antonio's concern meant that the person he suspected of carrying the box—the person who'd confessed to being involved in Mother Alfreda's disappearance—still lived at the convent.
"Thank you, Father," Matt said, rising. "We're sorry to have put you into this position."
"But it was necessary to save a life," I finished.
Father Antonio didn't look as if he believed me. I didn't care. We had something to go on with, only I wasn't sure what to do with the new information and said so to Matt on the way home.
"We have to investigate the woods, of course," he said.
"We can't dig up the entire area without arousing suspicion."
"We have to try. We'll make a start tonight. Between Duke, Cyclops and myself we should cover a large part."
"You are not going anywhere. You need your rest."
"Don't, India."
"What happened in there? You looked as if you were in pain."
He lifted one shoulder. "It's gone now."