against the grime-streaked stone.
However, Lord Henry proved to have excellent eyesight. “Here!” he cried, drawing our attention. “What of this? Is it blood?”
He had been searching the opposite wall at my back, and shifted to the side so that I could move closer, holding the lantern high. I studied the spatter—the manner in which it had streaked downward, the dark rusty brown color. “It very probably could be,” I admitted as my gaze strayed outward. I pointed at a spot slightly above it to the right. “And here’s more.”
Gage crowded close to examine the stains, allowing his gaze to trail up the wall and onto the low ceiling. “Is that a gouge?”
He was right. There was a blunt furrow in the roof of the tunnel. One that could certainly have been made if someone were tall enough, and the weapon being swung was long enough. I glanced down the line of men, each of whom were tall enough to make such a thing possible. Even I might be able to manage it if I could generate enough momentum with my swing, but not with the heavy mace from the guardroom. Not with anything of such hefty weight. I hadn’t the upper body strength.
“Then this is the sight of the attack,” Lord Edward stated with one hand on his hip while the other hefted his lantern to look upward. He tipped his head toward one shoulder. “Whoever the victim was.”
We all stood contemplating this fact, with nothing but the creak of one of the lanterns and the sound of dripping water in the distance to disturb the silence that had fallen. I scowled at the tunnel floor, trying to understand what had happened, trying to piece together some reasoning.
“Why?” I muttered in frustration.
The others turned to me, and I realized I’d spoken aloud.
“Why here? In this dank, dark tunnel,” I specified, glancing at each of the Kerr brothers’ faces. “I realize the obvious answer is that it’s secluded and nearly abandoned. But why would someone willingly pass through here? Did he not want to be seen? Or was he lured here?”
Lord John shifted his feet, his brow furrowing. “You’d have to be pretty stupid to allow yourself to be lured down here alone.”
Not necessarily. Not if the pretense was good enough. I thought of the forged notes people had received at the Twelfth Night Party, how at least some of the people might have thought it was part of the game, the reverie. Though we knew the victim had died weeks before the party, and so could not be the victim of such a prank, they still stood as a prime example of why someone might allow themselves to be lured into such a place.
“He might not have felt himself to be in danger from whoever he was with,” Lord Henry pointed out.
“Or perhaps he didn’t come down here with anyone. Perhaps he was followed.” Lord Edward glanced up and down the tunnel. “Or someone was already lying in wait.”
“Where?” Lord John sneered. “This isn’t exactly the ideal location for an ambush.”
I had to agree. If the murder had been a sneak attack, then the blind corner behind us or the opening to the catacombs before us would have been much better places to surprise the victim.
“No,” Lord Edward conceded before arching his eyebrows in challenge. “But perhaps they were simply here waiting to confront the victim, with or without him knowing they would be here.”
“Is the crypt easy to access from the abbey?” Gage interjected, interrupting this exchange. Perhaps he realized, as I did, that this discussion was doing nothing except to incite an argument between the brothers.
“Relatively,” Lord Henry replied. “There’s no sign pointing the way, of course. But with a bit of poking around, someone could find it.”
“Then feasibly an outsider could find their way into the tunnel? Or be directed to it?” Gage narrowed his eyes down the tunnel, the glint in his eyes telling me he was stumbling toward something in his mind.
“Feasibly,” Lord John confirmed.
“Did Helmswick know about the tunnel?”
The three brothers shared glances, but whether this was because they were conferring to get their stories straight or because they could only answer for themselves, I didn’t know.
“I didn’t tell him,” Lord John was the first to reply.
Lord Edward scoffed. “Neither did I.”
“Me neither, but . . .” Lord Henry hesitated. “He might have heard us talking about it. Rehashing one story or another.”
Trevor’s gaze met mine, both of us recognizing how easily this could