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They stopped off in a field. “Should be less than a mile,” Wickford told them as he secured the carriage’s horse to a tree trunk and proceeded along the narrow country lane.

A few moments later, he pointed. “See that glow through the trees? Those are the windows of Fourcross.”

Once they were close to the house, Gideon could see that the glow emanated from the ground-floor windows. The light flickered, candlelight probably. Gideon drew close and peered through the window. Through the slit in the curtain, he spotted Archibald Kerrigan sitting in a chair, calm as can be, reading a book.

“Do you see him?” Electra whispered.

“He’s reading a book and smoking a pipe. Feeling quite at ease, apparently.”

Electra’s brows winged up. “Perhaps the fact that he looks so calm is good for us. We can approach him with the same demeanor.”

“Shall I enter with you or await some sign from you?” Wickford asked.

Gideon considered Electra’s point. “Might be best if you wait. We can simply tell him we have further questions about the Delacourt case.”

“Very well. I will remain close. Give me some signal if you need me to enter.”

Gideon nodded at the older gentleman. “We will. Thank you, Wickford.”

Gideon rapped on the door, expecting a staff member would answer. They waited a good several moments, and then Archibald Kerrigan himself opened the door.

“Inspector Pierce and Miss Poole,” he said, almost jovially. “You are both far from home.”

“Indeed, Mr. Kerrigan, but we have a few questions, and as this matter is most urgent, I thought to put them to you directly. Your housekeeper told us you had removed to Kent.”

Kerrigan’s brow furrowed, eyes narrowing. “Came all this way to ask me a few questions, Inspector?”

“We did indeed.”

Gideon felt the man’s hesitation, perhaps a hint of fear. He fully expected him to resist.

“Well, then I must invite you both in.”

Gideon offered one glance at the constable, who stood off to the side, out of view of the door and the ground-floor windows.

“I apologize that I don’t truly have a staff here at Fourcross. I usually hire someone in once I arrive, so I’ll go into the village tomorrow and take care of that,” Kerrigan explained as he led them into the room Gideon had spied through the window.

He gestured to a pair of well-worn chairs. “There’s always someone looking for work, and there’s a lady there who I hire year after year to serve as my housekeeper, another who serves as cook, and if I’m lucky, I can find a gent who wants to do footman, valet, and all the other bits.”

Electra moved to the chair but did not sit. “So you’re here on your own, Mr. Kerrigan?”

“Oh, yes. All alone. Sometimes I bring London staff members, but this time I decided to come on my own. It was an impulse, really.”

“What sparked the impulse?” Electra asked.

She’d adopted a congenial mien, and Gideon thought it convincing enough to put Kerrigan at ease, though he noticed the tension in her jaw.

Kerrigan looked suddenly dour. “The strain of recent events… I could not bear London any longer, and I realized I’d stayed in town longer than I usually do. I haven’t been myself since, well, to be honest, since Miss Collier. And then the disappearance of Miss Delacourt. It’s been a very unsettling time.” He stood near the chair Gideon had seen him sitting in, tapping his fingers along the fabric as he assessed them. He gestured to two other chairs arranged near the fireplace. “How are you coming along with the case, Inspector? Any closer to finding Miss Delacourt?”

Gideon refused to sit. Refused to give Kerrigan that advantage. “I think we might be very close to finding her.” He forced his voice to remain pleasant. Calm.

“Do you indeed?”

“What is the book?” Electra asked, pointing to the volume he’d laid aside on the table beside his chair. Without waiting for his reply, she strode forward to pick it up.

At some point, she had removed her gloves.

Kerrigan watched the book in her hand as if she might harm the leather-bound volume. “It’s a rare edition. Careful with that, Miss Poole.”