Free A Study in Revenge by Kieran Shields

walked with a purpose toward the front door of the Horsford house.
    Lean placed one hand upon his breast, the other held out toward the sky. “ ‘Often I think of the beautiful town / That is seated by the sea; / Often in thought go up and down / The pleasant streets of that dear old town, / And my youth comes back to me.’ ”
    McCutcheon stood speechless, regarding Lean with a queer look.
    “He wasn’t talking about Cambridge,” Lean announced before proceeding up the walk.
    A maid led the way to the front parlor, where Miss Cornelia Horsford greeted them. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, making her anxious face look even more stern. She wore a plain-skirted walking costume of deep purple, and Lean wondered if she was observing some old-fashioned state of half mourning for her late father.
    McCutcheon introduced himself, then the others. Miss Horsford wondered aloud about a thief having this address and whether she ought to call the police directly.
    “It’s never harmful to be overly vigilant,” Grey commented. “Though you don’t actually live here, I understand. Is the house currently occupied?”
    “A minimal staff has stayed on while Mother’s away. She’s gone to Europe for the spring and summer. A desperately needed change in scenery after Father’s death. She’ll be gone until September. Couldn’t bear missing New England in the autumn.”
    “And the staff hasn’t had anyone unusual calling at, or lurking about, the house?” Lean asked.
    “Nothing the slightest bit out of the ordinary. I telephoned as soon as I heard from Mr. McCutcheon. I had Harriet, the maid, and the others comb the house. Not a thing missing or out of place.”
    “The entire house?”
    “Every inch except Father’s study. I have the only key.”
    “Would you mind?” Lean asked.
    “Not at all. This way, gentlemen.” She led them into the hall and up a staircase.
    “Is there some particular reason you have the sole key to the study?” Grey asked.
    “It was too much for Mother. She asked me to make arrangements for his things, since I knew the most about his work. I’ve even been pursuing some of his archaeological interests. Mother and my sisters found it all terribly dull, I’m afraid.”
    They came to a closed door, which Cornelia Horsford unlocked. Upon entering the room, Lean felt a bit as if he were stepping into a photograph, only real and in color. The air was stale and heavy with the scent of books and old paper, like a dead-end aisle in the bowels of a library. Everything in the room, from the grand desk to the portraits and framed maps on the walls, had the look of being set in place, permanent and immovable.
    “A bit stuffy, isn’t it?” Cornelia said as she crossed the room to open a window.
    “Was your father working on anything new? An advance in some chemical formulation, perhaps. Something the competitors of the Rumford Chemical Works might be interested in?” Grey asked.
    “No, Father hadn’t really been doing any of that kind of work for years now. In fact, he’d been rather single-mindedly devoted to his historical research. And I can’t imagine why anyone would want to steal any of those papers. After all, history already belongs to every one of us. Certainly no money in it. To be frank, my mother would get quite annoyed at Father for how much he spent on his history projects. But then money isn’t everything, is it?”
    “Not when you have plenty of it.” McCutcheon offered a grin that struck everyone else as rather ham-handed.
    “True … I suppose,” Cornelia answered haltingly. “But for Fatherhistory was a passion. And I have to say, I found it quite interesting as well.”
    “What sort of history was he studying, exactly?” Lean asked.
    “The Norsemen.”
    “The Norsemen?” Lean gave her a blank look.
    “Yes. Oh, you know, Leif Eriksson and his discovery and settlement in North America.”
    “Ah, yes, the Vikings. The Vine Land sagas,” Lean