him to sit there and have to consciously block out the other men’s words. He rose and, when the three older men looked his way, smiled and half bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, there are a number of matters I should look into.”
The three smiled, and Mr. Hinckley waved him away with an “Of course.”
Still smiling, Godfrey turned to the door just as Masterton walked in.
Masterton saw him on his feet and halted.
Godfrey strolled toward the door and saw Masterton hesitate, wavering as if unsure what he wished to do.
Masking his rising curiosity, drawing level, Godfrey politely inclined his head and kept walking.
As he reached the door and stepped into the corridor, he heard Masterton turn and come after him.
He walked on and obligingly halted in the middle of the front hall. He swung to face the library corridor and waited.
Having quit the library, Masterton followed him up the short corridor and into the hall. He halted a few feet away. For a moment, Masterton stared at Godfrey, then Masterton’s features firmed, and he said, “I suspect you and I wouldn’t see eye to eye on a number of subjects, but I do have the Hinckleys’ best interests at heart.”
Godfrey had no reason to argue that; as far as he knew, Masterton had been supportive of the Hinckleys at every turn. Allowing the comment to stand unchallenged, he waited.
Masterton nodded as if accepting Godfrey’s silence as an indication of some sort of detente. After a moment during which he plainly gathered his thoughts, he went on, “Both you and I know there’s a good chance the Hinckleys won’t be able to reclaim the Albertinelli. That whether they—and you—will succeed is very much up in the air.”
Again, Godfrey said nothing; the man was right.
Masterton thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and looked down, then he shifted closer and, lowering his voice, said, “When I was a boy, I was occasionally brought here to visit. I used to run free through the house—all over, as a boy left alone to explore will do. From that time, so many years ago, I remember seeing old paintings—more than one—left on the floor, set to one side in the attic of the disused wing.”
Godfrey frowned slightly. “I’ve heard mention of a disused wing. Do you know for how long it’s been closed up?”
“Multiple decades at the very least. The wing had been shut up long before I ventured in.” Masterton paused to search Godfrey’s face. “Look—I have no idea if the paintings are still there, much less whether they’re valuable or just old Auntie Someone’s daubs. They might even be more forgeries.” His earnest tone held a touch of urgency. “But I thought…well, I know Matthew’s need of funds is greater than he lets on, and as you’re here and haven’t yet departed, I wondered whether you might take a quick look-see.” He glanced toward the library. “I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, and for all I know, the paintings might not even be there anymore.”
Masterton looked back at Godfrey. “Regardless, I thought I would go and find out and wondered if you would be interested in coming along, too.”
The annals of history were peppered with instances of long-lost masterpieces discovered in the most unlikely places. Godfrey was well aware that many great finds had been made in just this way—by someone thinking to go poking in an old attic or cellar. Quite aside from the compulsion to help the Hinckleys—which Masterton patently shared—Godfrey couldn’t have turned his back and walked away from the prospect of unearthing some unexpected find if his life had depended on it.
Endeavoring to hide his eagerness, he nodded. “All right.” He glanced around. “How do we get into the disused wing?”
Masterton turned toward the stairs. “The only door that still opens is on the first floor.”
Godfrey followed Masterton up the stairs and to the right along the gallery, in the opposite direction from Godfrey’s room and also the family wing. Masterton strode straight to a door set in a wider, taller panel in the side wall toward the end of the gallery; to Godfrey’s educated eye, the panel was set into the rectangular archway framing the entrance of another corridor, presumably the one leading into the now-disused wing.
Without hesitation, Masterton reached for the door’s knob, turned it, and pushed the door open. The hinges creaked faintly, but the door didn’t stick and swung open readily. “Huh.” Masterton seemed as surprised by that as Godfrey. “It’s never