A Simple Case of Seduction

After a few silent seconds, she shook her head. “We sold everything we owned to pay his father’s debt from the failed shipping venture. We sold the paintings, all the books in the library, bar one. I’ve moved house so many times, all I truly own are the clothes on my back.”

Daniel rubbed his temple as he tried to think. “Did Thomas say anything to you that seemed odd? Anything that seemed trivial?”

“No.” Daphne frowned. “He joked about his favourite book being the only thing of value he had left. The night he died he made a strange comment about it.”

“The night he died?” Surely it could not be a coincidence. “And you did not think to mention it to me before?”

“It was something said in passing,” she said defensively. “An expressed opinion, nothing more.”

“What did he say?”

“He spoke of Shakespeare’s wisdom. That his work was for all time. That studying the text provides insight into today’s society not just that of the past.” She shrugged. “As I said it was an odd thing to say.”

“You must have said something to prompt the conversation.”

“No. It was while he was dressing to go out.”

“Well, we must examine everything that occurred on the night Thomas died.” Daniel stared at the damaged furnishings. “Did you say you kept the book after he’d died?”

Daphne nodded. “Yes, it was on my night stand. Thomas mentioned your love of Shakespeare too. He spoke about gifting you the book, said you would appreciate the sentiment.”

Daniel jerked his head back. “I have no love of Shakespeare. Thomas knew that. He knew I found some plots implausible.” It was a debate they’d had many times. “We need to find the book.”

“With any luck, it should still be in my bedchamber.”

“Then help me lift the dresser to make a walkway.” He gestured to the obstruction. Clambering over furniture in a dimly lit room had no appeal.

Daphne grabbed one side, and together they lifted it up onto its base.

As soon as Daphne opened the bedchamber door, she gasped. The bed sheets were in a crumpled heap on the floor next to the top mattress. The night table lay on its side, the glass candle lamp smashed to pieces.

“Stay where you are,” Daniel instructed. “There are shards of glass all over the floor.” The pieces crunched under his boots as he moved to straighten the table. He found the green leather-bound book underneath, picked it up and shook it.

Nothing fell out.

“Thank goodness.” Daphne put her hand to her heart. “I think the fact it’s still here confirms this was not a robbery. That book is worth five pounds.”

Clutching the book to his chest, Daniel stepped over the strewn covers, and they moved into the parlour. After straightening the chairs, they sat at the table to study the pages in the candle light.

“If memory serves, Julius Caesar and Macbeth were his favourite tragedies.” With the book laid flat on the table, Daniel flicked to Macbeth.

Daphne leant forward. “What are we looking for?”

“I have no idea.”

He studied the pages to find nothing of interest. However, when he turned to Julius Caesar, one passage from Act III was underlined boldly in ink.

Daphne pointed at the marks. “Only certain words are highlighted.”

Daniel tried to swallow down the hard lump in his throat. “I think you were supposed to give me this book three years ago.” The feeling of regret weighed heavily in his chest. “When read together, the words say ‘Then I … fell down … Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us’.”

“Good Lord.” Daphne covered her mouth with her hand as she stared at the text. “He must have known his life was in danger. But why did he not confide in one of us? Why leave a clue in a book knowing we’d only find it once he was dead?”

But they hadn’t found it once he was dead. They’d found it three years later. And this was not the only clue Thomas had left.

“I saw Thomas the week before he died.” Daniel’s stomach churned. Now he understood the relevance of his friend’s flippant comment. “I was leaving Hobley’s coffee house in Covent Garden as Thomas was entering. He made a comment about our school days, about the master’s love for the birch. We laughed, but he put his hand on my shoulder and said that he’d come to learn that the master was right.”

“Right about what?”