"We'll try the side door." They could force the window of the back parlor-that wing was farthest from the library, Whitticombe's favorite bolt-hole. "Follow me, not too close together. And remember-no sound."
They all nodded mutely.
Swallowing a futile curse, Vane made for the shrubbery. The high hedges and grassed paths eased his mind of one worry, but as he and Patience, Duggan and Gerrard at their backs, neared the place where the hedges gave way to open lawn, a light flashed across their path.
They froze. The light disappeared.
"Wait here." On the whisper, Vane edged forward until he could look across the lawn. Beyond lay the house, the side door closed. But a light was bobbing up from the ruins-the Spectre was walking tonight.
The light rose again briefly; in its beam, Vane saw a large, dark figure lumbering along the side of the lawn, heading their way.
"Back!" he hissed, pushing Patience, who'd edged up to his shoulder, into the hedge behind him. In the lee of the hedge, he waited, counting the seconds, then the lumbering figure swung into the path-and was upon them.
Vane grabbed him in a headlock; Duggan clung to one muscled arm. The figure tensed to fight.
"Cynster!" Vane hissed, and the figure went limp.
"Thank Gawd!" Grisham blinked at them. Vane released him. Looking down the path, Vane was mollified to see that the rest of the party had frozen, strung out in the shadows. Now, however, they clustered closer.
"I didn't know what to do." Grisham rubbed his neck.
Vane checked; the carrier of the bobbing light was still some distance away, negotiating the tumbled stones. He turned back to Grisham. "What happened?"
"The Colbys arrived late afternoon. I figured it was the sign we was watching for. I told 'em straight off there was only me and two maids in the house-if anything, Colby seemed well pleased. He had me make up the fire in the library, then called for dinner early. After that, he told us we could retire, as if he was doing us a favor an'all." Grisham snorted softly. "I kept a close eye on 'em, of course.
They waited a while, then took one of the library lamps and headed for the ruins."
Grisham glanced back. Vane checked, then nodded for him to continue. They still had a few minutes before whispers became too dangerous.
"They went all the way across to the abbot's lodge." Grisham grinned. "I stayed close. Miss Colby grumbled all the way, but I wasn't near enough to make out what she said. Colby went straight for that stone I told you about." Grisham nodded at Vane. "Checked it over real careful-like, making sure no one had lifted it. He was right pleased with himself after that. They started back then-I came on ahead, so's I'd be here to see what's next."
Vane raised his brows. "What indeed?"
The light flashed again, much closer now-everyone froze. Vane clung to the edge of the hedge, aware of Patience pressed to his side. The others edged closer, wedged together so they could all see the section of lawn before the side door.
"It's not fair! I don't see why you had to give back my treasure." Alice Colby's disgruntled whine floated on the frosty air. "You're going to get your treasure, but I won't have anything!"
"I told you those things weren't yours!" Whitticombe's tone turned from aggravated to scathing. "I would have thought you'd have learned after last time. I won't
have you caught with things that aren't yours. The very idea of being branded the brother of a thief!"
"Your treasure isn't yours either!"
"That's different." Whitticombe stumped into view before the side door; he looked around at Alice, trailing after him. And sniffed contemptuously. "At least, this time, I could put your little foible to some use. It was just what I needed to deflect Cynster's attention. While he's getting young Debbington cleared, I'll have the time I need to complete my work."
"Work?" Alice's contempt matched Whitticombe's. "You're obsessed with this foolish treasure hunt. Is it here, or is it there?" she parroted in a singsong voice.
Whitticombe threw open the door. "Just go inside."
Still singing her little ditty, Alice walked in.
Vane looked at Grisham. "Run like the devil-through the kitchen, into the old parlor behind the library. We'll come to the windows."
Grisham nodded and set off at a run.
Vane turned to the others; they all looked at him in mute expectation. He set his teeth. "We're going to backtrack, quickly and quietly, around the house t6 the terrace. On the terrace, we'll have to be especially quiet-Whitticombe will probably make for the library. We need to know more about this treasure of his, and whether he was, indeed, the one who struck Gerrard."
As one, they all nodded. Resisting a strong urge to groan, Vane, Patience's hand locked in his, led the way back through the shrubbery.