Page 80 of A Whisper and a Curse

Teague’s nostrils flared. “Who was it?”

“Lysander Mallory,” Hadrian replied in a clipped tone.

“How do you know?” Teague asked, his brow furrowing.

“We saw an example of his handwriting,” Tilda explained. “We both recognized it immediately. His W is most distinctive.”

Teague glanced toward Tilda’s reticule. “You have this example of his handwriting with you?”

“We do not,” Tilda said. “However, I’m sure you can obtain a sample from his study.”

The detective inspector turned his head to the constable. “Go and find out where Mallory might keep writings—a diary or anything in his hand.”

The constable nodded and left the parlor.

Tilda addressed Teague once more. “What can you tell us about this latest murder? We’re very sorry to hear that Hawkins has been killed.”

“He was found in the same manner as the others, though Graythorpe will need to confirm the presence of prussic acid when he completes the autopsy. One of the servants—who doesn’t live there—arrived this morning and found him hanging from the staircase.”

“The rope was painted again?” Tilda asked.

Teague nodded. “Hawkins appeared to be levitating. The constables interviewed the neighbors, and they are understandably upset that this happened again. As with the prior murders, no one saw anyone unusual entering the house. Indeed, no one saw anyone enter at all today, not even the manservant.”

Tilda hated to think of poor Jacob Henry finding Hawkins after he and his sister had found Mrs. Frost not even a week ago. “Was it Jacob Henry?”

“No, a young man named Michael Crocker.”

Hadrian looked to Tilda at the precise moment she shot her gaze toward him.

“You know him?” Teague asked.

“We do,” Hadrian replied. “We met him Friday when we visited the spiritualism society headquarters, and he was the butler at Hawkins’s séance that evening.”

“I suppose it makes sense that he would work for Hawkins in his new residence,” Tilda said. “Was there no housekeeper or cook? Hawkins employed a Mrs. Wilson as housekeeper at his house in Clerkenwell, but she is not affiliated with the society.”

Teague appeared intrigued. “How do you know this?”

“We called on Hawkins last week after Mrs. Frost was killed.” Tilda glanced at Hadrian. “Her Grace is going to be very upset.” She returned her focus to Teague. “She had chosen Hawkins as her new medium after Cyril Ward died.”

A deep frown creased Teague’s features as he nodded. “I spoke with Her Grace this afternoon. She was most distressed. It was disconcerting to witness. She was nearly hysterical that all the mediums are dying. Her first thought was that she couldn’t lose Mallory too. She sent someone to fetch him to make sure he was all right.” Teague put a hand on his hip. “You say Mallory sent you that threatening letter. Why? Did he think you were investigating the murders and wanted you to stop?”

“You’ll have to ask him.” Hadrian fixed a dark stare on Teague. “Where is he?”

“Ravenhurst, you appear angry,” Teague said with concern. “In fact, you look furious. Can I trust you not to attack Mallory, even verbally?”

“Of course I’m angry. The bastard threatened Tilda,” Hadrian replied in a low tone that wasn’t quite a growl but was very close. “I will maintain my composure.”

Teague regarded him a moment, then nodded. “He’s in the library.” The detective inspector turned and led them from the parlor.

Tilda looked over at Hadrian as they made their way to the library. She believed he would remain composed, but she also saw the fury simmering beneath the surface.

The constable who’d gone to fetch a sample of Mallory’s handwriting met them near the entrance to the library. He handed a diary to Teague, who then offered it to Tilda. “Is this his handwriting?”

Tilda opened the book and Mallory’s hand jumped from the parchment as did the name Joslin. “Yes. When you compare it to the letter at Scotland Yard, you will see they are a perfect match.” She showed it to Hadrian, who nodded. He lifted his gaze toward the library with a steely determination.

Teague took the diary back, which was unfortunate since Tilda wanted to determine why Joslin’s name was in it, and snapped it closed. “Thank you.”

They walked into the library, where Mallory was seated along with Mrs. Griswold and a handful of other members of the society they’d seen on Friday. Their attention shifted toward the door as Teague entered. Then their gazes moved to Tilda and Hadrian.