Page 35 of No One's Bride
While Mr Murden continued haranguing his employee, Ailsa tried to determine if either man might have killed Mr Hibbet.
Was Mr Woodbury a naive fool, or was he part of a sinister plot? Did Mr Murden have a reason to murder a man he’d known for fifteen years? Thankfully, it was up to Mr Daventry to decide.
“Has nae one contacted ye about a possible error?”
“Not at present.”
“We’ll need the name of the person who won the grimoire,” Lord Denton said with an aristocrat’s arrogance. “Else I shall charge into the auction room and enlighten your patrons. Tell them Woodbury gave Miss MacTavish’s book to a thief so he could bed a tavern wench at the Old Crown.”
Mr Murden paled. “Do what you must, but I cannot divulge confidential information.” He turned and jabbed his finger at his employee. “Wait for me in the packing room. I intend to get to the bottom of this mess. You’d better pray all the books are accounted for, else you’ll face a private prosecution.”
“Wait,” Ailsa said, anticipating the questions Mr Daventry might ask them later this afternoon. “We need a description of the person at the Old Crown.”
Mr Woodbury described the delivery man to a tee, which meant Mr Daventry would have to visit the Old Crown to corroborate the story. “The scar looked to be a few days old.”
So, not one inflicted during a struggle with Mr Hibbet.
Mr Woodbury left, and the auctioneer waited a few seconds before whispering, “I shall give you the name. I’m not sure who to trust anymore, and I did not want to reveal his identity to Woodbury.”
“But Woodbury had the delivery address,” his lordship said, confused.
“He was to deliver it to the milliners on Newport Street. Once I give you the name, you’ll understand the need for secrecy. The professor is often subjected to a torrent of abuse.”
“The professor?”
“I’m not sure he’s an actual professor,” Mr Murden admitted. “That’s to say, I’m not sure one can obtain a certificate when training in the dark arts. Professor Mangold runs the Guild of Unexplained Phenomena. They meet weekly at a secret location near Leicester Square. I know this because he often purchases curiosities.”
That explained why someone would pay handsomely for an old grimoire. The sinister man seated in the front row that day must be a competitor or a minister keen to burn the devil’s work.
“We’ll need the name of the man who bid against me,” she said, a chill creeping over her shoulders as she recalled his evil stare. “As everyone had to register before bidding, that shouldnae be a problem.”
Mr Murden moved to the desk and rifled through the jumbled papers. “Here it is. Oh! His name is Smith. There’s an address in Tavistock Street, Covent Garden.” He found a quill pen, wrote the details on a scrap of paper and handed it to Lord Denton.
“Should Professor Mangold complain about his missing grimoire, say you’ll look into the matter.” His lordship scanned the note. “It will give me time to investigate the guild.”
Investigate the guild?
He had agreed to assist Mr Daventry, not take matters into his own hands. But what did one expect from a man who took command of every situation? No wonder he refused to relinquish the ebony box. Doubtless he suspected the professor had a motive for murder.
“Before we leave, can ye tell us anything about Mr Hibbet?” Hopefully, he would not relay every gruesome detail.
“There’s not much to tell. He was unmarried and lived on the upper floor.” Mr Murden sniffed and gave a mournful sigh. “He was not just an assistant but custodian of Chadwick’s. Old Mr Chadwick gave him the apartment just before he took ill.”
“Mr Chadwick is still alive?” she said.
“Yes, though he’s bedridden and leaves the running of the auction house to me these days.” Lowering his voice, Mr Murden added, “His daughter prefers it that way. The ailing fellow is not always of sound mind.”
Preparing to depart, Lord Denton snatched the box off the desk. “We’ll need to search the apartment before we leave.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. It’s considered a crime scene until the Great Marlborough Street men have finished their investigation.” He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped the sweat from his brow. “It will take a week to clean the bloodstains. In all my days, I’ve never seen anything so sickening.”
A heavy silence ensued.
“We shall leave ye to deal with Mr Woodbury.” She looked at Lord Denton, who nodded in agreement. “Mr Daventry will keep ye informed of our progress and arrange for the grimoire’s return.”
They made for the door, but struck by an intense curiosity, Ailsa turned. “I almost forgot. I need the name of the person who paid for my copy ofUtopia. Ensuring I won may have been part of a plot to swap the books.”
Mr Murden shifted uncomfortably. “I can confirm it was a generous gesture by someone who wanted you to own the rare volume.”
