Free A Vein of Deceit by Susanna Gregory

happen again.’
    ‘You mean you have been ordered not to challenge him?’ asked Suttone, shocked. ‘He can do what he likes, and you must let
     him, lest he demands more compensation?’
    Michael nodded, his expression dark and angry. ‘He has already hired himself a lawyer, and knew exactly how not to incriminate
     himself when I interviewed him.’
    ‘What lawyer?’ demanded Thelnetham, indignant on behalf of his legal colleagues. ‘No one in the University would have anything
     to do with such a low scoundrel.’
    ‘He is a Suffolk man, apparently,’ replied Michael. ‘Probably someone from Clare, which is Gosse’s home. I did not meet him,
     but he had briefed Gosse well. I came away feeling as though I had been bested.’
    ‘This Gosse sounds horrible,’ said Hemmysby. ‘But I had never heard of him before last night.’
    ‘Neither had I,’ said Bartholomew. He opened his book again, not very interested in felons. Ambitious criminalswere always invading the town in search of easy pickings, but they did not last long; Michael or Sheriff Tulyet usually ousted
     them before they did too much harm.
    ‘He
is
horrible,’ replied Michael grimly. ‘And so is his sister, who is said to be insane.’
    ‘I am said to be insane, too,’ remarked Clippesby from the floor. ‘But that does not make it true.’
    ‘Well, it is true in Idoma’s case,’ said Michael. ‘She twitched, blinked and flexed her fists the whole time I was there,
     giving the impression that it would take very little to send her into a frenzy of violence. I am not easily unnerved, but
     there was something about her that unsettled me profoundly.’
    ‘They are not like normal felons,’ agreed Suttone. ‘They are higher born, more intelligent and far more devious. I am glad
     it is not my duty to tackle them.’
    Thelnetham was unimpressed by the situation. ‘Your hands may have been tied by the burgesses, Brother, but what about the
     Sheriff? Why does he not act?’
    ‘He is in London, explaining to the King why our shire is so expensive to run,’ replied Michael. ‘Constable Muschett is in
     charge – a man who would not challenge a goose. He openly admits that Gosse frightens him
and
that he has no intention of doing anything that might see him sued.’
    ‘Bastards,’ snarled Langelee suddenly, standing abruptly and stalking towards the hearth. He took a wild kick at the poker,
     which flew against the wall and ricocheted off, landing with a crash that made all the Fellows jump. The cat hurtled under
     the table in alarm.
    ‘My!’ drawled Thelnetham, wide-eyed. ‘Do we feel better now?’
    ‘No, we do not,’ snarled Langelee. ‘We shall feel better when we have broken his neck.’
    ‘Why would we … would
you
do that?’ asked Bartholomew uneasily, wondering what had precipitated the burst of temper. ‘You said Gosse was not the man
     who attacked you.’
    ‘No, but he has committed other crimes,’ said Langelee darkly. ‘And do not look at me like that, because I am not telling
     you anything about it. You will be angry. All of you will be angry.’
    ‘What has he done?’ demanded Michael. ‘If it is something to do with the College, we have a right to know. We will probably
     find out anyway – this is no place for keeping secrets.’
    Langelee swallowed hard. It was a moment before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was choked with emotion. ‘Two days ago,
     I left the Stanton Cups in the hall by mistake – unattended. Someone stole them.’
    His colleagues regarded him in horror. The Stanton Cups were a pair of beautiful silver-gilt chalices, bequeathed to Michaelhouse
     by its founder, Hervey de Stanton. They were normally kept in a locked chest in the Master’s room, but Langelee believed such
     treasures should be used regularly, for everyone to see and appreciate, so they were often out. It was an attitude Bartholomew
     applauded, although their loss was a serious blow.
    ‘They were taken from the