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“In other words, you didn’t expect to be seen.” Peter sensed where this conversation was heading and instantly dreaded the implications.

“And we weren’t, but…”

“Yes?” The letter Peter received from Croft had mentioned his unsanctioned outing. It had also made it clear that Croft needed to speak with Peter about it at once. Naturally, Peter assumed Croft needed his help explaining away his reason for sneaking about the hospital after hours.

“He’s not going to like this,” Mrs. Croft said, sending a chill down Peter’s spine.

“What?” Peter asked, since they might as well get to the meat of the matter.

Croft opened his mouth as though preparing to answer. But then the maid returned with the tea things and Peter’s coffee, leaving the air tense with Croft’s unspoken answer until she departed.

“There was an altercation,” Croft said after taking a sip of his tea.

Peter nearly choked on his coffee. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m afraid not,” Croft said.

“Please tell me the person you fought still lives,” Peter said, pushing the words past a sudden hoarseness in his throat.

Croft inclined his head, which only made Peter feel like strangling the man.

And rather than offer Peter the very assurance he needed, the blasted man said, “We discovered a tunnel beneath the hospital. It led to a chamber you’ll want to explore in more detail.

When you do, I thought it might help to know that the broken oil lamp you’ll find was smashed to pieces when Mr. Melroy arrived. He and I fought and—”

“You clashed with Mr. Melroy?” Peter gaped at Croft in stupefied horror, then thought to ask, “Is he the killer?”

“I’m actually not sure.” A pensive look entered Croft’s gaze, filling Peter with the sudden urge to fling his cup at the man’s head.

He refrained. By some grace of God he managed to rein in his temper. “Then why, by all that is holy, was he there and why did you fight him?”

“Because his being there was suspicious.” Mrs. Croft seemed to smirk at him from behind her teacup.

“Besides, we’d no idea who he was until later, but even then, his being in that chamber last night, coupled with his connection to a secret society, makes him a suspect. Despite his claims to the contrary.”

“Tell me about this secret society,” Peter said.

Croft did so, then set his cup aside and leaned back against the sofa. “As you can see, Chief Constable, we could not take the risk of letting him go.”

A lightheaded feeling overcame Peter. He stared at Croft, immediately regretting the effort he’d made to ensure his freedom. “Please tell me you haven’t done what you’re suggesting.”

“And what would that be?” Croft asked in a bored voice that suggested he didn’t think much of Peter’s reasoning skills.

Not daring to voice his fears lest Croft confirm them, Peter asked, “Where is he?”

“Upstairs.” Baffled by this response, Peter stared at Croft until he chuckled and asked, “Did you think I’d lock him in the cellar?”

“I…um…” The man had a way of making him feel like an idiot.

“Since I’ve not yet ascertained Melroy’s guilt, he has received the same comfort I’d grant any guest, barring the freedom to come and go as he pleases. If you’d like to meet with him, I’ll call for a servant to fetch him.”

“Please do,” Peter said.

The request was placed and Peter, finding himself in need of occupying his hands, selected a biscuit.

“Are you all right?” Miss Hastings asked. Peter glanced at her but saw that she was addressing Mrs. Croft who, he suddenly realized, looked slightly green about the gills. “You’re a bit pale.”

Mrs. Croft flattened her lips. “I’m fine.”

Croft’s attention was instantly on her, a frown creasing his brow as he studied her face. “Are you sure?”

“Quite.” She gave a small nod. “Truly.”

The parlor door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered man with a solemn expression ushered in a slightly shorter man of slim build. Both appeared to be of a similar age, somewhere close to forty, but it was immediately clear from looking at them which one worked for Croft.

The larger of the men took stock of the room, his gaze sweeping past Jackson, Peter, and Miss Hastings before returning to Croft. “Would you like me to stay?”

“Thank you, Murry, but I don’t believe that will be necessary,” Croft told him.

Murry dipped his chin in acknowledgement and quit the room, leaving Melroy standing alone, like a nervous performer who’d just been shoved onto a stage.

“Please have a seat.” Croft gestured toward the last vacant chair and waited for Melroy to move toward it before saying, “Chief Constable Kendrick and his associates wish to hear what you have to say concerning Doctor Wentworth’s arrest, the work he was doing, and your attempt at uncovering the truth. ”

Melroy lowered himself to the proffered chair and swallowed. His right hand, Peter noted, was bandaged and the man himself looked much like a child who’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

He swallowed. “May I have a cup of tea first?”

“Of course.” Croft sent his wife a broad smile. “Will you serve?”

She paused only briefly before leaning forward, appeared to gulp down a breath as she picked up the teapot. Stiff movements got the job done. When she finished, she set one palm to her cheek, her eyes closed as though she needed a moment in which to collect herself.

An odd thing to witness. Peter was accustomed to her being strong and fierce.

“Are you certain you’re well?” Croft asked her, his voice gentler than Peter had ever heard it.

“Perhaps not.” She attempted a smile but it failed to reach her eyes. “I’m terribly sorry but I fear I might have caught an affliction. If you’ll please excuse me.”

She hurried from the room as though the air in it were suffocating her. The door swung shut as she departed.

“I hope it’s not influenza,” Miss Hastings said. “But if it is, I know an excellent remedy for it. You need only send me a note, Mr. Croft, and I’ll see that your cook receives the recipe.”

“Thank you, Miss Hastings. I appreciate the offer.” He flung one arm across the back of the sofa and turned to Melroy. “Well, sir? Kendrick’s a busy man. He has places to be, as do I. The sooner you get on with your account, the better.”

Melroy sipped his tea, then drank a bit more before relaying his suspicions and findings to Peter.