brushed his hand across his face as if to clear his vision and steady himself. “What is worse is that Merrit has disappeared too.” He stared at Monk with horror in his eyes. “She seems to have gone straight up to her room after the quarrel with her father. Judith assumed she would stay there, in temper, and probably not come down until morning.”
Monk did not interrupt.
“But when she was unable to sleep with anxiety over Daniel,” Casbolt went on, “she went to Merrit’s room—and found her gone. She was nowhere in the house, and her maid looked and said a bag and some of her clothes were gone … a costume and at least two blouses. And her hairbrush and combs. For God’s sake, Monk, help me look for them, please.”
Monk tried to collect his thoughts and form some clear plan as to what to do first. Casbolt seemed close to the edge of hysteria. His voice was erratic and his body so tense his hands clenched and unclenched as if stillness were unbearable.
“Has Mrs. Alberton called the police?” Monk asked.
Casbolt shook his head very slightly.
“No. That was the first thing I suggested, but she was afraid if Merrit has gone to Breeland that she would be involved in scandal and it would ruin her. She …” He took adeep breath. “Honestly, Monk, I think she is afraid Breeland has done Daniel some harm. Apparently when he left the house he was in a terrible rage, and said that he would win one way or another.”
“That is true,” Monk agreed. “I was there when he said it.” He remembered with a chill the passion in Breeland’s voice. It was the fire of the artist who creates from nothing a great vision for the world, the explorer who ventures into the unknown and opens the way for lesser men, the inventor, the thinker, the martyr who dies rather than deny the light he has seen … and the fanatic who sees any act justified by the cause he serves.
Casbolt was right to be afraid of Breeland; so was Judith Alberton.
“Yes, of course I’ll come with you,” he answered. “I’ll go and dress, and tell my wife. I’ll be five minutes, or less.”
“Thank you! Thank you very much.”
Monk nodded, then went hastily back to the bedroom.
Hester was sitting up with a shawl around her.
“Who is it?” she asked before he had closed the door.
“Casbolt,” he answered, taking off his dressing gown and putting on his shirt. “Alberton went out shortly after I left and hasn’t come home, and Merrit is missing. It looks as if she might have gone after Breeland. Stupid child!”
“Can I help?”
“No! Thank you.” He fastened his shirt with clumsy fingers, moving too hastily, then reached for his trousers.
“Be careful what you say to her,” Hester warned.
He would have been delighted to put Merrit Alberton over his knee and spank her until she was obliged to eat off the mantelpiece for a week. It must have shown in his face, because Hester stood up quickly and came to him.
“William, she is young and full of ideals. The harder you argue with her, the more stubborn she will be. Fight with her, and she’ll do the last thing she really wants to rather than be seen to give in. Plead for her help, her understanding, earn her mercy, and she’ll be reasonable.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was sixteen once,” she said a trifle tartly.
He grinned. “And in love?”
“It is a natural state of affairs.”
“Was he a gun buyer for a foreign army?” He put his jacket on. There was no time to shave.
“No, actually he was a vicar,” she replied.
“A vicar? You … in love with a vicar?”
“I was sixteen!” There was warm color in her cheeks.
He smiled and kissed her quickly, feeling her respond after only an instant’s hesitation.
“Be careful,” she whispered. “Breeland may be …”
“I know.” And before she could add anything further he went out and back to where Casbolt was standing near the door impatiently.
Casbolt’s carriage was waiting
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