When Logan descended the steps from the old loft some thirty minutes later, at least some of the peace he had been seeking had come to him. While he didn’t have a complete answer to his dilemma, he did know what action he must take next.
He breathed deeply of the homely, wholesome, earthy animal smells around him. Though he didn’t ride, he was glad they still kept a few horses. It was part of Stonewycke’s heritage. This would always be Digory’s stable, he supposed, though many grooms, mechanics, and handymen had come and gone since his great-great-uncle’s time. Logan reminded himself that Digory’s peace had not come because the stable was a quiet place where the anxieties of the world seemed far away. His peace came from a higher Source, and so did Logan’s. Because he felt God had spoken to him just now, he walked with a lighter gait and a ray of hope in his eyes.
Logan briskly crossed the back grounds and gardens, entering the house by way of the kitchen. The cook was slicing two cold steamed chickens for a late tea; dinner that day had been served at one in the afternoon; Hilary had been with the MacKenzies at the time. The cook threw Logan a cursory greeting, mumbling something about the impossibility of preparing a proper menu with unexpected guests appearing every other day, and with the grocery order being late.
Logan chuckled to himself. Three months ago she had been complaining about how quiet the place had become. I might not be able to give her warning about our next guest either, he thought. Not just yet, anyway.
He mounted the stairs to the first floor, turned purposefully down the hall, and came to the library. He opened the door, stepped inside, and glanced about carefully before closing the doors behind him. Certain that he would not be disturbed, he went to the phone on the desk and picked up the receiver.
“Long distance,” he said when the operator came on.
He gave her the number, then waited while the connection was made.
In a few minutes another feminine voice answered. He identified with whom he wanted to speak.
“May I say who is calling?” she asked in an efficient receptionist’s tone.
“Logan Macintyre.”
“One moment, please.”
There followed a brief pause. Then she came back on the line. “He’s just finishing with an appointment. Can you hold a moment?”
“Yes,” answered Logan, “I’ll wait.”
He took the interval to move around the desk to the chair, where he sat down and took some papers from a drawer that needed attending to. He had barely looked at the first one when he heard a masculine voice in his ear.
“Logan, what a pleasant surprise!” it said. “I’m sorry for having to make you wait.”
“I know the rigors of a public life,” laughed Logan. “Always busy. But I would appreciate it if I could steal a few minutes of your time.”
“Of course!”
“This one’s personal.”
“Go on. What can I do for you?”
“I have rather an unusual problem,” Logan replied. He laughed again. “Actually, that’s an enormous understatement, as you’ll see. It’s an extremely delicate matter, and I need some outside input.”
“From me?”
“I need someone I can trust, my friend,” said Logan earnestly. “So on that count you are my top choice. But I need your keen analytical mind as well. Along with your other, shall we say, non-erudite pursuits—about which you are so closemouthed that even a friend such as myself can’t uncover what you are up to!—don’t you have a chum in Scotland Yard to whom you’ve lent your wisdom upon occasion?”
Now it was his friend’s turn to laugh. “You make me sound like a genuine mystery man! All from one unguarded comment I made four years ago. I tell you, Logan, you’re imagining the whole thing. I’m just what I appear to be, nothing but an innocent—”
“I know, I know!” interrupted Logan. “Always the same answer! And you’ve got the credentials to back up what you say. But someday, believe me, I’m going to find out what the deuce you are up to!”
“A pointless sleuthing exercise where the object is nothing more than the boring chap he appears to be.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment. But tell me, isn’t what I said about your having a friend at the Yard true?”
“Yes, but my only contributions have been for the sake of mental calisthenics. He’s made me privy to a few of their cases, and sometimes by sheer luck, he solves one when I happen to be around. It is a rather stimulating breather from my boring routine, if nothing else.”
“Quite, quite! As is this snow job you insist on shoveling my way. Well, perhaps I can propose another ‘breather’ for you, if you are interested.”
“Proceed. You have my curiosity aroused.”
Logan briefly outlined his situation, then went on to explain what he hoped his friend might do for him.
“I’m afraid,” said Logan, “that I have become incapable of being objective. I must be missing something—perhaps the very thing Lady Joanna saw but kept so silent about. Thus, I thought it might be helpful if someone neutral could observe the situation. An outsider, so to speak, sifting through the evidence, helping me to see what perhaps my own eyes are unable to.”
“There’s no fault with the credentials?”
“No, none on either side. Everything on the complete up and up. I’ve had everything double, even triple checked. I verified that Lady Joanna did indeed visit the offices of The Berkshire Review at the specified time. And the Edwards girl does indeed possess the journal; the only way she could have obtained it is directly from Joanna. If there is deception involved in any way on her end, it would extend all the way back to my mother-in-law’s being fed spurious information. Yet if that is the case, I can hardly believe the girl herself knows about it. She seems to have been genuinely moved by her encounter with Lady Joanna. All indications point toward complete innocence.”
“And the other—what did you say her name was?”
“Jo, after Joanna. That was our daughter’s name.”
“Yes . . . and what about her?”
“Nothing much to say. Everything checks out. She seems innocent enough, too. Allison’s been quite taken with her.”
“Hmm,” mused Logan’s friend, “you do indeed have a puzzle on your hands. Have you consulted the police?”
“Heavens no,” replied Logan. “No crime has been committed, for one thing. It has to be a muff somewhere down the line. But even more than that—and this is the crux of the matter, after all—one of those women is apparently my own daughter. That alone necessitates treading somewhat lightly.”
“I see . . . and you would like me to—”
“Just get to know them, even just socially at first, see what your instincts tell you about the two of them.”
“That should be an enjoyable exercise! Tell me, what do they look like?”
“Both beautiful,” replied Logan laughing. “But you would need to come up north for a few days. I know your schedule is—”
“Nonsense! A vacation will be a welcome diversion. I need to get away!”
“So you’ll do it?”
“I’ll have to clear a few things up, but I’m sure I can manage it. At this point, I’m too curious not to.”
“There is one last thing I ought to mention,” said Logan. “It might be best if we kept a low profile on your reasons for being here. No need to cause undue tensions. The women will be more open if they are unaware of our connection, and you’ve never met my wife. So I think it would be best if your coming was made to appear purely accidental, and if you and I keep our past association in the background.”
“Yes . . . I see what you mean. Any suggestions?”
“You are a clever fellow. You’ll figure something out.”
“Right! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, old chap!”
“Then don’t. Wait to see if our efforts bear fruit.”
After solidifying a few more arrangements, Logan bid his friend goodbye and replaced the phone in its cradle. He laced his fingers together behind his head and leaned back in his chair.
For some reason he felt relieved. Probably because he had finally taken some action, done something concrete. A solution seemed much closer now than it had several hours ago.