Page 48 of The Devil in Oxford
I quickly did as asked, blocking out the quiet sounds of the museum staff busily at work shutting down the gallery floor for the evening, and sealed the two of us inside. He reached out a well-manicured hand for the note that I had placed on the desk.
My unsteady pulse beat in my aching temple as Jonathan Treadway read the two words that Leona had hastily scrawled out only minutes before.
He crumpled it before laying it in a silver dish on his desk and lighting a match. The scent of sulfur filled the air as the flames licked up and caught the edge of the paper. Neither Treadway nor I spoke, both watching as the orange embers slowly consumed the note, turning it to ash.
“That is unfortunate.”
I stared at him unblinking. This entire week had been oneunfortunatehappening after another.
“Is she safe?” he asked softly.
“I could ask you the same question.”
He stared at the pile of ashes before him. “I presumeshesent you with it?” There was something in the cadence of his voice that caught my attention. It washimwith her the previous evening. It had to be.Thismust be the man Leona had been meeting in private. While the voices had been muffled, the man had a distinctive rhythm to his words. One shared by Jonathan Treadway.
“Who are you?”
“Professor Jonathan Treadway. But you knew that already, as you found your way to my little corner of the earth over here.”
I stared at his hands, noticing the bandage that covered his left forearm. A weeping hint of pink stained the edge. He’d been wounded. My mind raced back to Leona’s frayed fingers the night Harker’s body was discovered. Since when was museum work dangerous? “Do you hurt yourself often here in the collection?”
His dark brow raised as he noticed my frank inspection. He lifted his shoulder carelessly before slowly unrolling his sleeve over the bandage, fastening his cuff in a vain attempt to ward off my line of questions. “Leona sent you with that because she trusts you. I do not know you. Therefore, I do not trust you. Please don’t show me false concern or try to get pleasantries from me.”
This was hopeless, and yet if Leona trusted him—if Leona sent me here—then there must be some reason for it. And I’d stake my very life it pertained to that book. “You asked me if she was safe…”
“Is she?”
The stone walls of the room were closing in upon me. “Does your concern mean she is in danger?”
He folded his hands together, resting his chin upon his templed fingers. “Grave danger. We’d all thought,hoped, that Harker’s death was isolated—the result of his peculiar interests, but now that appears not to be the case.”
“Do you know who killed Julius Harker?”
He did not answer.
“Canyouprotect her?”
He buried his face in his hands, rocking his head slowly back and forth. A hopeless, miserable gesture. “No one can. Not now. If what Leona fears is true, then our mutual friend has made herself some very powerful enemies.”
“The same enemies that Julius Harker had?”
He swallowed, picking up a cut-crystal glass of water and taking a sip. “You should leave here. Forget what you’ve delivered to me and go back about your life, Miss Vaughn. It would be best for all involved.”
My mouth gaped open. “I did not give you my name.”
“I do not need it. You’ve been all over the papers since the day you set foot in Oxford.” He gestured with two fingers behind me. “The door.”
Hands on hips, I stared at this Treadway fellow, unable to make sense of him. “You told me that Leona is in danger from the very same person who killed Julius Harker and somehow expect me to go back to my life in Exeter as if none of this had happened?” My voice came out shrill. What sort of people did Leona acquaint herself with here? A den of liars and faithless frauds, that’s who.
“I did. You do not know what you are getting yourself involved in. Not all is as it seems. This glittering world”—he gestured out the door—“this bastion of learning. It is a mirage, Miss Vaughn. There are things at play that you do not understand, and I fear they are a danger to you most of all.”
I furrowed my brow, catching the peculiar scent of stale tobacco smoke and petrol on the air. “Me?” My mind tripped through the years back to the war. I grabbed onto the desk for a half second, regaining my bearings.You’re not in France, Ruby. You’re not in France.My hand began to tremble upon the desk. Why should my mind gothereof all places? And now?
“If you think I will abandon Leona because you are frightened, then you have clearly not read enough about me in your papers,”I snapped before turning on my heels and storming out the door and out of the museum.
Ruan stood at the foot of the steps waiting for me, rubbing his hands together in the snowy night. His expression mirrored that of Jonathan Treadway’s, tight and pinched. His cap was under his arm as snowflakes swirled around him, catching in his dark curls. The silver strands that laced through the black were all the more evident in the moonlight.
What’s wrong?
