Page 100 of The Brothers Hawthorne

She took one end of the table, and he took the other. The wheels didn’twantto turn, but if you pushed them upward and turned at the same time, the resistance fell away. The wheels turned. And once all four of them had been turned—again and again until they would no longer move—a hidden compartment on the side of the table opened.

And nestled in that compartment, there was a key.

CHAPTER 67

JAMESON

The key was old-fashioned, made of gold with bloodred jewels inlaid at the top and center. Golden vines encircled the body of the key, swirling to form a flower at the top. Small pearls dotted the vines. Jameson dragged his thumb lightly over them.

“One key down,” he said. He meant the words for Avery but couldn’t take his eyes off the prize in his hand. “One to go.”

The chances that the key in his hand openedthebox—the one they needed to win—were one in three, one in two if Jameson’s assumption that the smugglers’ cave keywasn’tthe winning key was correct. But fifty-fifty wasn’t the kind of odds a Hawthorne accepted.

Not when there were better odds to be had.

“Smuggle nothing out, the book, the caves,” Jameson rattled off. “The mark, the table,let the wheels turn. We’ve already uncovered a third clue in the room, but it’s unclear which, if any, verbal clue it corresponds to.”

“Watch yourself,” Avery murmured. She had this way of speaking to herself where her voice went quiet and her lips barely moved. Jameson had always loved the feeling of eavesdropping on her thoughts, letting them weave in and out of his own. “And the remaining verbal clues,” Avery continued, “the most likely ones at least—are the idioms.Leave no stone unturnedandno rest for the wicked.”

Unbidden, the image of the stone garden came back to Jameson. Thousands upon thousands of stones had paved the ground. Maybe what they were looking for was there, but Jameson wasn’t about to risk this game on maybes.

Not when his gut was telling him there might be something else here in this room to point the way to thecorrectstone.

Not when he could almost taste the win.

“No stone unturned,” Jameson repeated, echoing Avery’s words back to her. “Andno rest for the wicked.”

It was the second phrase that held his attention now. Rohan had said it in an offhanded, charming kind of way, the words directed at Zella, but Jameson knew in his gut that the Factotum was one of those people who could make anything seem offhand.

And charming.

No rest for the wicked, my dear.Jameson let the words play in his mind over and over.But it would hardly be sporting if I hadn’t given you everything you needed to win.

What were the chances that Rohan had given them what they needed in that exact moment, just a sentence before?

“No rest for the wicked.”Jameson said the words again, the pace of his speech speeding up, his heart rate doing the same. “Biblical in origin. Popularly used to mean that work never stops, but in the context of the Devil’s Mercy, it could imply that there are always more sins to be had… or that the wicked are given no peace.”

“No peace,” Avery repeated. “No reprieve. Nomercy.” She locked her fathomless gaze on his. “Biblically, that would mean what? Fire and brimstone?”

Hellfire, Jameson thought.Damnation. The Devil’s Mercy.Those three things cycled through his mind, faster and faster, louder and louder until the words felt like they were coming from outside him.

And then Jameson’s gaze locked on to the stone fireplace, and his mind went silent.

Avery followed the direction of his gaze. Without either one of them saying a word, they both began to move—back to the fireplace.

“What do you think the chances are,” Jameson asked Avery, “that somewhere in this not-a-castle, we’ll find something to help us start a fire?”

CHAPTER 68

JAMESON

They found matches in the kitchen in a drawer near the stove. All too aware of each minute that passed—of the fact that elsewhere on this grand cliffside estate, the competition was playing for the same prize—Jameson raced back to the start once more.

This time, Avery beat him there. She was fast when she wanted to be. Single-minded. She skidded to a stop just past the doorway, and as Jameson did the same behind her, he saw why.

Zella was in the room, sitting on top of the table. She ran her fingers along the open and empty compartment. “Your doing, I hope? Branford can’t have all the fun. He’ll be insufferable.”

In other words: The duchess knew that Branford had found the first key. Given that Zella also seemed to have realized that a second had been foundhere, she had to be thinking that she had just one chance left for this game to go her way.