Bobbi Smith by Heaven

night, Professor.”
    Philip and Robert knocked on the door to signal the guard. He let them out, then took the professor back to his cell. Neither Philip nor Robert spoke again until they were in their carriage heading back to the house.
    “What do you think?” Robert asked.
    “I’m not sure. It’s obvious that he doesn’t have the books with him, but he did seem worried about us visiting his daughter.”
    “Perhaps we should plan a trip to Boston.”
    “Perhaps.” Philip’s mind was racing as he tried to put himself in his father’s place. “If Father didn’t give the books to the professor, then who did he give them to?”
    “There was only one other man Father would have trusted with the treasure, and that’s Edward Bradford.”
    “Of course,” Philip replied. Since their father had left the bulk of his estate to the Church, it only followed that he would have given the books to the priest. “We’ll go see him first thing in the morning.”
     
     
    Dressed in black, Winn stood solemnly in the parlor. He’d managed to get some rest, but it had been fitful and haunted, and as he greeted the visitors who’d come to pay their respects, he was still exhausted. The conversation was muted around him as his uncle’s friends spoke quietly of their sorrow at losing him. Winn missed Uncle Edward already, and his heart felt heavy with loss.
    The funeral mass was set for the next morning, and Winn both dreaded and looked forward to it. While the funeral would mean an end to the agonizing ordeal, it would also be the final parting for them. As he thought about saying his last good-bye to his uncle, Winn realized that there was no painless way to do it. The death of a loved one always meant pain. No matter how you tried, there could be no avoiding it.
    “Good evening,” he said as two men who looked vaguely familiar entered the parlor and moved directly toward him.
    “Good evening, Lord Bradford,” Robert replied. “I’m Robert Anthony, and this is my brother, Philip. We were very sorry to learn of your uncle’s death.”
    “Thank you.” He remembered them now that they’d introduced themselves. His uncle had been a close friend of their father, but he knew these two were not well thought of around town. Their decadent ways were well known, and made his own escapades seem tame by comparison. “Is your father here?”
    “You hadn’t heard? We buried him yesterday.”
    Real surprise showed on Winn’s face. “No, I hadn’t heard. You have my deepest sympathy.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Lord Bradford, we were wondering if we might speak to you alone for a moment?”
    Winn saw Arthur admitting more visitors, and declined. “This is not a good time.”
    “It’s a serious business matter that has to do with our father and your uncle,” Philip put in.
    Winn sensed an urgency in the men, but something in their manner annoyed him.
    “We have a lot in common, you know,” Philip added a little slyly, hoping to encourage a mutual regard. After all, he had heard of Lord Bradford’s reputation with the ladies and at the card tables.
    However, his remark had the opposite effect on Winn, for it brought him up short. Winn suddenly found himself wondering if he really was like these two—unprincipled, cold, and ruthless. He hoped not. He certainly would not be so crass as to intrude and try to discuss business with the relative of a recently deceased man. Still, the fact that they thought of him that way left a bitter taste in his mouth. He frowned. “This is hardly the time to discuss such things, gentlemen.”
    “We wouldn’t disturb you now, if it weren’t important.” Philip would not be put off. He was already irritated that they’d wasted half a day tracking down the priest only to discover that he’d died. Philip had hoped Winn would be amenable to their needs and check his uncle’s things right away so they could get the books and go. After all, how difficult could it be to find a few books