Page 125 of Laird of Flint
“How?” the prior asked, looking just as shocked. “Where?”
He didn’t answer the prior. Instead, he addressed the abbot. “Is this all of it? All the missing items?”
“Aye, it appears so, but…” The abbot looked puzzled. “’Tis more than that.” He picked up a medallion and a ring. “These don’t belong to the monastery. None o’ these jewels do.”
“’Twas a thief by trade, no doubt,” the prior said, licking his lips. “A local outlaw.”
“Did ye find the thief?” the abbot asked.
“I found one of them,” Hew said, subtly bringing his axe down off his shoulder and testing the edge with his thumb. “He confessed.”
The men paled.
“One o’ them,” the abbot repeated. “Is there more than one?”
“Aye. He had an accomplice.”
“An accomplice?” the prior echoed.
“Did he name the fellow?” the abbot asked.
“Not yet.” Hew pretended to examine his axe blade. “But I mean to return to Dunlop on the morrow. I’ll convince him to clear his conscience. ’Tis only a matter of time. In my experience, most outlaws prefer to keep at leasthalftheir fingers.”
Both men shuddered at that.
Hew shouldered his axe again and bid them farewell. Before he exited the chapter house, he turned.
“I believe you’ll find the jewels belonged to your deceased infirmary patients.”
Their jaws dropped in unison.
Hew returned to his cell. Now he had only to wait.
He’d made a large wager. It might not bear fruit. But if he was correct, the accomplice would be eager to act fast. Likely tonight.
As he suspected, a cloaked monk left Kildunan at nightfall, hurrying along the road as if chased by a pack of wolves.
But the beast on his scent was Hew.
Hew kept his distance. There was no need to further frighten the man. He was already headed into the trap.
The man naturally had no trouble negotiating the gates of Dunlop. After all, who would suspect a monk of foul play? The castle guards were probably used to his frequent midnight visits. To them, the prior appeared to be an exceptionally devoted man of the cloth, since he was always coming at the darkest hours to pray for suffering members of the clan.
Tonight, it was Peris who needed his prayers. And when Hew glimpsed the flash of a dagger blade in the prior’s hand, he knew how the prior meant to relieve the physician’s suffering.
He tracked the prior through the great hall to the physician’s quarters.
Hanging back in the shadows, he heard the prior pound hard on the door. After several moments and an additional heavy round of knocking, the physician opened the door.
“What have ye done?” the prior hissed.
Peris sounded like any man wakened in the middle of the night. Stuporous and irritable. “What are ye talkin’ about? And what are ye doin’ here? I thought we agreed—”
“Bloody fool!” the prior bit out, brandishing his dagger. “Did ye think I wouldn’t come after what ye did?”
“What the—”
The prior pushed his way in.
