Chapter 80

CASPIAN

Rhys knocked at a quarter past six.

He had knocked on any door of mine he judged necessary for more than four years, by my own order, given in a frozen yard in Ashgrove. He seldom judged it necessary now. He came in without waiting and stood inside the study door with his hands behind his back, which was how he stood when he had decided to say a thing exactly once.

“She’s gone,” he said.

I had been asleep in the chair. I was not asleep then.

“The lower row stood for the count at first light. Seventeen didn’t. The key was in the lock from the outside.” He did not change his voice. “No one was hurt. No one saw anything. The man on the outer gate was asleep on his stool, and somebody had set the gate bar against the wall beside him, very neatly, as if it were being returned.”