Lay hold upon him: if he do resist,
Subdue him at his peril.
Othello, I.ii
When the dean, Charlotte Crandall, and policeman arrived at the gate of Hartford Women’s College, the men hopped out. “Can you see to it the horses are taken care of?” Maynard asked Charlotte. “We must get to Barton Isley at once.”
“Of course,” she said, taking the reins.
Maynard checked his watch. Seven-thirty. They’d made good time, even with checking the Isley house along the way. According to the staff, Isley had arrived home late and then left early this morning. Upon inquiring about Mrs. Isley, the maid had simply said she was not home and refused to say anything more.
Where was Isley now? Maynard passed a weary hand through his hair. Lord, what a long night. What day was it?
Friday. That meant Isley would be poring over the end-of-week invoices in his office.
“This way,” Maynard said to the policeman, gesturing to the right. They hurried across the quadrangle to Founder’s Hall.
Isley looked up in annoyance as Maynard flung open his door without knocking. “Randolph, what the devil?” He sucked in his breath sharply when he caught sight of the policeman in the doorway.
The dean crossed the room in two strides and grabbed Isley by the collar. “You miserable, no-account snollygoster! Drugging a defenseless woman and holding her prisoner? Allowing that cur Flynn to do your dirty work for you, just to further your own gutter-rat ambitions?”
“Sir!” the policeman exclaimed, putting a hand on Maynard’s sleeve. “A little restraint.”
The color had drained from Isley’s face as Maynard loosened his grip and shoved him back into his chair.
“Where is your wife, the poisoner?” Maynard sneered. “You both have much to answer for. She wasn’t at your house, and the maid would not say another word.”
Isley worked his lips together before speaking. “I don’t know. She didn’t come home last night.”
“You don’t know where your own wife is?” Maynard allowed his derision free reign.
“We know the Inner Circle has planted explosive devices at the debate,” the policeman interjected. “Where will they be hidden?”
Isley put his head in his hands. “I don’t know.”
“Hitchcock has been captured, but the bombs are gone,” Maynard said. “Who was going to place them? One of the other Inner Circle men?”
“I don’t know.”
Maynard gritted his teeth. They were getting nowhere with the man. It had to be someone from the Inner Circle setting the bombs. Except for Hitchcock, they didn’t seem too trusting of hired help. Who was in the group? Maynard was sure, now, that the cuff links he’d been asked to order were for the Circle. Besides Flynn and Isley, who were the other three? No, four, he remembered. There had been a pin, too.
Whoever had set the devices must have nerves of steel, he thought. Bold and confident. And the pin….
He had a chilling thought. No. It couldn’t be.
“Where is your wife?” he asked again.
Isley shrugged but said nothing.
The policeman took restraining cuffs out of his pocket. “Mr. Isley, I am taking you into custody.”