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my burden to bear.”
    â€œI had forgotten.” Brother Silsbury nodded, shifting his eyes back to Colin. “Brother Wright came to see me well before dawn and I gave him a tincture of laudanum, as I do whenever such spells overcome him.” He turned back to Brother Wright. “You must have been quite asleep when everything happened.”
    Colin’s forehead contracted and I knew what he was going to say as soon as he began to form the words, yet there was nothing I could do to stop him. “Did you actually see him take the laudanum?” he queried as though speaking to a roomful of incorrigibles.
    â€œWell . . .” Brother Silsbury flicked his eyes to Brother Wright and it was all the answer needed.
    â€œWhat do you mean to suggest?!” Brother Morrison growled like thunder, looking as if he might be about to call the Heavens down upon Colin.
    â€œSuggest?” Colin maintained the façade of an innocent. “It was merely a question.” He gave a quick nod of his head and exited the room before another word could be uttered.

CHAPTER 4
    F ather Demetris took us into Dalwich in the monastery’s well-worn buckboard, which was really nothing more than an open cart. Our conversation with the priest had been stilted during the first part of the journey, mostly monosyllabic and wholly uncomfortable, until Colin had finally assured the cleric that his inference regarding the possibility of one of the monks being involved in the abbot’s murder was meant only to reassure the brotherhood. Whether it proved to be the case or not, he’d intended solely to let them all know that he would leave no stone unearthed in his quest for the truth. And after a few moments’ rumination, the priest had seemed to settle into Colin’s explanation, though I knew it had only been done to placate. What most intrigued me, however, was that this priest was one of the few men I had ever known Colin to bother placating.
    The remainder of our two-mile ride proved far more pleasant, or as pleasant as anything could be given the present circumstances. Father Demetris promised to have one of the monks see us back to the inn each evening if we would make our own way out at the start of the day while they were in their morning prayers. We agreed, though I hoped this was a ritual we would not need to repeat too many times. Unfortunately, it felt very much like a lark given that we were only at the start of this case with little sense of what we were truly facing. The only things I was certain of were Colin’s ability to rattle the monks and the inevitability that he would solve this case. I only hoped he would see to the end of the case long before he reached the end of the brotherhood’s tolerance.
    â€œIf I don’t see you in the morning before I head back to Chichester, please be sure to keep Bishop Fencourt apprised of your progress. Just send a telegram every couple days to my attention,” Father Demetris instructed as he brought the cart to a stop in front of the rather woebegone-looking Pig and Pint Pub and Inn. “I will remain at your service should you need me and will return at the beginning of next week in any event.”
    â€œVery good,” Colin muttered as he climbed down and pulled our trunk from the back of the wagon.
    Father Demetris took a moment to gaze up at the flat, unadorned clapboard front of the Pig and Pint, its color a faded cornflower blue that had likely not seen fresh paint since my own boyhood, and sighed. “If you change your mind, you are always welcome to stay at Whitmore Abbey. You would be quite comfortable and will be left well alone unless you wish to speak with the brothers.”
    â€œWe shall certainly keep that in mind.” I spoke up as I reached into the back of the wagon and grabbed our valises. “But please know that we will see to the swift and precise resolution of this case just the same.”
    â€œYes . .