CHAPTER 30 #2
“I . . .” Valencourt swayed slightly as he contemplated the question. “I simply pressed the latch, and it popped open.”
“Did it?” Wheeler took several steps into the room and gave a quick glance at the books and papers.
“It must have,” answered Valencourt in a puzzled voice. “Because I don’t remember having a key.”
Wheeler whirled around and took dead aim with both weapons at the schoolmaster’s forehead. “Liar. I think you’re in league with Lord Wrexford.”
Valencourt swayed again. “Who?”
A tiny metallic click sounded . . . and then the drawing master dove to his right just as both of Wheeler’s weapons erupted in an explosion of sparks and a thunderous BANG!
“It’s nothing personal, monsieur,” intoned Wheeler as he tucked his pistols away and approached the motionless figure sprawled on the floor. “But I couldn’t permit you to make off with Milton’s notebook. Not when I have gone through so much trouble to obtain it.”
He sidestepped a rivulet of blood flowing from beneath Valencourt’s head and was about to crouch down beside the body when the clatter of running footsteps caused him to spin around . . .
“You didn’t really think I was going to let you get away with your crimes, did you, Wheeler?” said Wrexford as he stepped through the doorway.
* * *
A spurt of fear pulsed through Charlotte’s veins as the peal of the chapel’s bells—sounding loud enough to wake the dead—suddenly shattered the quiet of the night. Heart hammering against her ribs, she broke into a run.
Eton’s outer walls were just ahead, looming up from the ghostly mist floating in from the nearby river.
She raced along Slough Road and turned into Weston’s Yard.
The side gate was locked, but the stone coping surrounding the wrought iron allowed just enough of a handhold for her to climb up and over the entrance wall.
Giving silent thanks for the physical training sessions with her fencing master, Charlotte dropped down and made her way through a narrow walkway to the Schoolyard.
A gaggle of the King’s Scholars had come down from their school lodgings in the ancient college and were milling in confusion by the chapel, staring up at the bell tower.
Recalling the map of the college grounds, she took a moment to orient herself and then slipped into the shadows of the dark brick building and angled her steps for the entryway set in the corner of the yard where the Upper School met the Ante-Chapel.
That, she knew, was where Peregrine and Raven were headed.
Dear God, let them be unhurt. Charlotte clenched a fist as she hurried for the stone stairs. No matter that she was unarmed—woe to any villain who tried to harm them.
* * *
Wheeler slid a step back from Valencourt’s body, the look of shock on his face growing more pronounced as the walls began to shudder with a thunderous clanging coming from the belltower.
“Another murder victim?” said the earl, after a glance at the patch of fast-darkening scarlet pooled on the stones.
“And soon there will be another!” Wheeler raised one of his two pistols—
“It’s not loaded, Wrex!” cried Raven from the depth of the alcove. “He fired both of his weapons—we saw two muzzle flashes!”
Wrexford kept his eyes on Wheeler, not allowing his relief at knowing the boys were safe to distract him from dealing with his dangerous adversary. “It’s over, Wheeler. The townspeople will be here shortly, and you will have to answer for your crimes.”
The engineer hesitated, then flung both his weapons at the earl’s head and darted for a door set in the center of the far wall.
Wrexford ducked the missiles and was after him in a flash. But the few seconds of delay gave his quarry just enough time to slip through the portal and slam it shut.
“Damnation,” he exclaimed after slamming his shoulder against the portal and realizing the bolt was engaged.
He turned back to the room and saw that Peregrine had untangled himself from the academic robes and was kneeling beside the drawing master’s prostrate body.
“Mr. Valencourt, Mr. Valencourt.” The boy gently shook the man’s shoulder. “I—I think he’s d-dead,” he stammered on getting no response.
Raven crouched down next to him for a closer look. “Naw, it looks like the bullet merely creased his temple, so I think he’s just stunned. Head wounds tend to bleed like the devil.” His gaze shifted to the bushy moustache—which had come half unglued from the drawing master’s upper lip.
“And by the by . . .” Raven shook the man’s shoulder a little harder. “His name isn’t Valencourt—it’s von Münch.”
“Bloody hell,” muttered Wrexford as he hurried over to join the boys. “You’re right.”
A wince spasmed over von Münch’s face and he managed to pry open one eye. “Before you ring a peal over my head, milord, be advised that I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can, but not now,” snapped the earl. “Hand over Milton’s papers. I don’t trust you with them.”
“I don’t have them—I swear it!”
“That’s because we do,” said Raven with a grin as he patted his pocket.
“Well done, lads! But now we need—”
“Wrex!” Charlotte flew into the room and let out a gasp of joy at seeing the boys. “But where is Hawk?”
“In the belltower!” answered Peregrine. “He must have heard the pistol shots and was clever enough to sound the alarm.”
“Speaking of which, the townspeople are beginning to arrive to see what is causing the commotion,” said Charlotte. “In the confusion and crisscrossing lantern light, I just spotted Wheeler fleeing this building. I have reason to believe that he is the killer—”
“He is,” interjected Wrexford. “But how did you come to that conclusion?”
“I should have seen it sooner!” she answered.
“As I was sketching, I suddenly saw that the marks that Wayland drew on the floor with his own blood could have a whole new meaning. The horizontal line was an axle, and the marks beneath it weren’t an O and a C but were meant to be wheels.
Axe-Axle-Wheels! So I came to warn you!”
“Alas, I learned of his perfidy myself. But I’ll explain that later. Right now we need to ensure Wheeler doesn’t escape justice.”
“He exited through the gate at Baldwin’s Bec,” said Charlotte.
Wrexford needed only an instant to decide on their next moves. “Actually, your presence is a blessing in disguise,” he said to von Münch. “You can deal with the authorities while Charlotte and the boys slip away with Milton’s papers without anyone noticing their presence here tonight.”
He paused. “Be advised that Fenway is also the enemy. Tell the town officials that the provost is guilty of several nefarious crimes and must be taken into custody. Let us hope that your head wound will add enough veracity to the claim that they will have no choice but to detain Fenway until the confusion is sorted out.”
“Don’t worry, milord,” replied von Münch as he sat up gingerly. “I shall be very persuasive.”
Charlotte gave a reluctant nod, understanding that it was the only way to guard their family secrets. “I take it you are going after Wheeler.” It was said as a statement, not a question.
“He must be held accountable for his crimes,” said Wrexford simply.
She looked away without arguing, but not before he saw the look of stark fear in her eyes.
“From the bulge in Wheeler’s boot, I think he has a knife,” piped up Raven.
“I take it you have yours with you?”
“Oiy.” Raven pulled out the stag-handled blade that the earl had given him during the first days of their acquaintance and held it out.
Much water has passed under the bridge since that moment, its currents often swirling with perilous eddies, reflected Wrexford as he took the knife and tucked it away.
And yet, he reminded himself, we have navigated all the dangers.
“I think I know where Wheeler is headed.” He turned for the corridor. “I need to hurry.”
“Wrex,” uttered Charlotte in a low voice. “He’s a cold-blooded killer.”
“His victims didn’t see him coming. With me, he won’t have that advantage.” A martial glint gave his gaze a steely gleam. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him get away.”