The barn, the stable, and even the chickenhouse—all made of the same stone and all in the same dilapidated condition as the dairy—got the same treatment as the dairy had and with the same results. She included the floors in her search, although she wasn’t as certain of her results there, and set Perry to tapping and scraping, using the skills he’d learned from several master thieves to try to detect if there was anything buried beneath the floors.

Somehow Sussena managed to keep her spirits up—but perhaps she’d never counted on them finding her lost inheritance in the first place. Abi wished, more than once, that she shared some sort of Mindspeech with Perry. Keeping her thoughts to herself was harder than she had imagined. She really had to wonder just what it was about this place that kept Sussena here. Obviously she’d be better off if she just sold it; granted, the acreage that came with it wasn’t much, but it was near enough to Haven to make some wealthy merchant a fine summer home—once it had been rebuilt. Was it just stubbornness? Was it family loyalty? Was it fear that the money simply wouldn’t last long enough? She didn’t feel she could ask Sussena any of these very personal questions, but she would have loved to have been able to discuss them with Perry.

Day by day, they eliminated every possible option but the manor itself.

Finally, with the outbuildings eliminated, it was time to work on the manor; it couldn’t be put off any longer.

“Happen ye’ll breakit yer necks,” Tobin said over eggs and bread the morning they proclaimed they were ready to search the main house. He seemed very pleased with the prospect.

“Shet up, old fool,” his wife said crossly. “I been up all them rooms. You ain’t.” She turned to Abi. “The lad an’ lass hev been clearin’ rubbish, or leastwise, anythin’ thet’ll trip ye up. Floors be still sound. Ye’ll be a’right.”

Abi had come to trust Hansa more than her always pessimistic and critical husband. “We’re going to start in the attic,” she said. “Have they been up there?”

“Aye. Breakit yer necks,” Tobin reiterated. “Nobbut up there but fambly stuff gone t’pieces.”

“Nobbut up there a-tall,” Hansa corrected sharply. “Every bit uv anythin’ got hauled downstairs an’ used or sold. Doncha remember? Curtains and bed’angin’s went for clothes. So did sheets. Blankets went fer cloaks, them as we ain’t usin’. Beds went t’Wrenmarsh ten years agone, cupboards an’ chests t’ Lotham, chairs t’ Danferth, an’ what weren’t fit t’sell we burnt.”