Hester had been making a list of those people.
“What happened to her?”
“Richard announced that she stole silver and ran away.”
“Did you believe it?”
“Not for a moment.”
Eunice opened a drawer and removed a small wooden spoon whose handle bore an unusual carved star.
“Hester made this for me.”
Daniel recognized the same star at the bottom of one page in his father’s packet.
He asked whether Hester had worked with his father.
Eunice nodded.
“They knew each other before Margaret started asking questions.”
“Could she still be alive?”
“I don’t know.”
Eunice handed him the spoon.
“I do know she sent something here after they said she vanished.”
“What?”
“A hymnbook.”
“Where is it?”
“The colonel had it burned in the kitchen yard.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You watched?”
“I was ordered to tend the fire.”
She turned the spoon over.
“I cut out the front cover before it went in.”
She reached behind a loose board beneath the bread shelf.
Inside lay a leather cover, scorched along one edge.
A thin paper had been sewn into the lining.
Daniel unfolded it on the table.
It contained a short message, written without dates.
“Follow the bell, not the road.”
Below were three words.
“Witnesses need names.”
Daniel saw the outline of a plan, though its parts remained uncertain.
The chapel bell, the old mill, and the vanished people belonged to one scheme.
Hester had left directions before she disappeared.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Daniel asked.
Eunice’s eyes filled with anger.
“Because every time somebody tried to use those directions, another person vanished.”
She looked toward the pantry door.
“Because I have buried too many people whose deaths were called sickness.”
Daniel did not argue.
He placed the paper inside his coat.
He returned the cover to Eunice, who hid it without another word.
Before leaving, Daniel asked one last question.
“Was my father trying to get Ruth free?”
Eunice’s answer came so softly he almost missed it.
“He was trying to get all of you free.”
Chapter 8: A Daughter at the Window
Catherine spent the following day in her bedroom with the shutters half closed.
She had taken the packet from the trunk and hidden its contents inside an ordinary sewing basket.
No one in the house questioned a lady for keeping sewing supplies near her chair.
She read Margaret’s letters until she could distinguish three different groups.
Some were genuine letters from her sister.
