"Stop."
They did, blinking as their eyes adjusted. Phyllida focused on Sweetie. Her old governess's eyes were so wide she looked goggle-eyed, her face so pale it was the same bone-ivory hue as her fussy, frilly summer gown. Appleby had one arm about Sweetie's shoulders, trapping her against him; as he pulled her back down the hall, she moved stiffly. In his other hand, Appleby held a wicked-looking knife.
A groan drew all eyes deeper into the hall. By the stairs, Mr. Filing lay prone; as they watched, he struggled onto one elbow. A trickle of blood ran down his chin.
Some of them started forward-
"Stop!"
They all froze at Appleby's shout. He looked down the line. "You. Covey. Help the meddling curate."
Covey hurried down the hall; he bent and struggled to help Mr. Filing to his feet. Jonas snorted. With an unimpressed glance at Appleby, he strolled out of the line toward Filing. "Covey can't manage alone."
Appleby glared at him. Jonas returned the glare with his best blank expression. Appleby's lips tightened. "Very well. Just get him to his feet and keep up with the rest."
Appleby pulled back to stand almost against the wall to the right of the drawing room door. "Inside." He gestured with his head. "But stay in line and move slowly." He raised the knife and laid it against Sweetie's exposed throat. "You don't want to make me nervous."
"No," Lucifer said. "We don't."
Appleby looked into his face. "Line up along the wall of bookshelves opposite the windows."
They did. Jonas and Covey helped Mr. Filing into the room. Appleby followed with Sweetie. "Perfect." He scanned their number. "There's two of you to a bookcase. I want you to search for a particular book-Aesop's Fables. You'll need to pull
out each book and look inside the cover-some of the covers are fakes. Look at every book."
They all stared at him.
"Get to it," he ordered. "Now! I haven't got all day-Miss Sweet hasn't got all day."
They all turned to the bookshelves. Phyllida lifted a hand to a tome and caught Lucifer's eye. She raised a brow-they, Demon and Flick, Jonas and Covey, all knew Aesop's Fables was in the dining room. With a nod, Lucifer indicated the books. He pulled out the first volume on the top shelf.
Phyllida started on the middle shelf. Beside her, Flick and Demon also started pulling tomes.
After a few minutes of silence, Lucifer glanced over his shoulder. "Why don't you let Miss Sweet sit down?" He waved at a straight-backed chair closer to the windows. "You're far enough away from us to still use her as your shield. And if she doesn't sit down soon, she might faint, which none of us would want." His gaze had fastened on Sweetie's wide eyes; he'd emphasized the word "none."
Appleby heard it. "Indeed. That wouldn't be at all helpful-not to any of us." He gauged the distance to the chair, then shuffled Miss Sweet to it. Before he released her, he looked at them. "Keep searching!"
They all turned back to the shelves.
Lucifer continued to pull books out and study them, then return them to the shelf. Phyllida pulled books out and shoved them in; her gaze lingered on Lucifer's face. She saw him exchange glances with Demon. She followed the exchange back and forth. It was as if they were communicating without words-as if their thoughts in such a situation were obvious, at least to each other.
Phyllida looked at Flick. She, too, had noted the silent communion. She met Phyllida's gaze and gave a helpless shrug-she didn't know what they were thinking, either. Flick went back to removing books; Phyllida did the same.
A minute later, Lucifer murmured, "Was this volume of Aesop's Fables the reason you killed Corporal Sherring?"
Despite the fact that he'd murmured, his voice carried through the room. He turned to glance at Appleby; Phyllida did the same.
Appleby's face was a mask of blank astonishment. His mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. "How did-" He broke off. "It hardly matters now." He paused, but couldn't stop himself. "How did you learn of it?"
"Hastings saw you do it." Demon glanced around, then looked back at the shelves.
"He never said anything."
"Hastings is a decent man." Again Demon glanced at Appleby. "He couldn't conceive of the sort of man who would kill his closest friend."
Appleby stiffened. "Sherring was a fool. A provincial nobody with a father rich from trade. They'd bought their way into a title and an estate-and all the luxuries that went with it. I was born better than him, but I would never have had half of what would have been his."
"So you arranged to even the score?" Like Demon, Lucifer continued to methodically search. The others glanced at them and followed suit.