Mr. Langston entered the library and bowed to the residents gathered inside. Ms. Ruby and Mrs. Worthington sat at the study table in the middle of the room while George leaned against the bookcase, wearing rubber gloves and goggles pushed to the top of his head. “We’re all here. What’s the problem?”

“Thank you for coming,” Mr. Langston said. “I will be brief as the Mayville’s are preoccupying the children. We know that will not last long. Mr. Wade sent a man to the house today. He claimed to be a lawyer, but his acting skills were lacking.”

“What did he want?” George asked.

“He claimed to be the representative of Ms. Catherine’s will. I asked him to leave, but Miss Sophie Mae obliged and escorted him to the garden. I fear he is planning to use the young miss. For what purpose, I do not know.”

George paced the stone floor. “Did you recognize him?”

“No, sir. His neckline bore many sores, and his hands were rough, like a laborer. I can only guess Ernest hired him off the streets. He called himself Thomas Smith. I find the name to be familiar but cannot place it.”

“That’s the name of the chemical supplier we used for lab supplies. Ernest said he knew of the man’s reliable reputation. I should’ve known the dealer was a rat.”

“It is likely a false name,” Mr. Langston said. “Perhaps Mr. Wade offered the name to the hired man. Many are in great need and take such corrupt jobs to feed their families.”

“Don’t sugar coat this,” George fumed. “Ernest has it out for me. The worst part is he plans to use Sophie Mae as a weapon. This cannot stand.”

Ernest Wade checked the time and pushed from the desk, trudging to the metal file cabinet on the back wall. The doorbell rang, and he buzzed the man inside, dropping the file folders to his desktop.

Thomas R. Smith strutted into the accounting office and stood in the middle of the room. Wearing his three-piece suit, he struck a jovial pose, leaning back on his heels, palms facing upward. “Easy as pie. The girl was a soggy mess.”

“Please, sit,” Ernest said. “Did she buy your story?”

“Why wouldn’t she? I’m trained in the art of deception, and honestly, how hard is it to trick a child? Just toss around a few fifty-cent words, and you’re done.”

Ernest didn’t appreciate his candor. Pulling the square handle of the top drawer, he slid a dark green bag across the desk to Mr. Smith, exposing the thick dust blanketing the surface. “Half now, half on delivery of the girl.”

“I’m sure she’ll call within the next few days. She had that orphan fear in her eyes.”

Ernest’s lips thinned as he kept his temper in check. “Thank you for stopping by Mr. Smith. I’ve work to do.”

Smith jiggled the coins with the grin of a greedy leprechaun and left the office, a slight skip in his step.

Ernest dead-bolted the door behind him and glared at the people on the street. A smile grew from his single thought. The public struggles each day to live, ignorant of the estate’s power. That girl and the potion are the only way I can save humanity from itself.