“Yes, Mr. Markham?” Anne prompted him.

“It seems foolish, but you coming here today has reminded me that it was after John vanished that the boys began whispering of a child-snatching monster, and they’ve never stopped since.”

“A monster?” Anne did her best to hide the tremor in her voice.

“Yes, a monster that would stalk the halls at night and choose a boy to steal away,” Mr. Markham said. “The strange thing is that though it was thirteen years ago, the story still persists, and many are still so afraid of the monster that Mrs. Poole even uses the story to scare them into obedience.”

“How very frightening for them.” Charlotte shuddered.

“What does the monster look like?” Emily asked. “Does it have a name?”

“A name, no—and as for what it looks like, well, whatever a boy imagines, I suppose.” Markham shook his head, bemused. “In any case I’ve worked and lived here now for three long years, and though boys die—more than we would wish—there has been no visit from a monster.”

“No more strange disappearances?” Anne asked him.

Markham was silent for a moment and acutely uncomfortable.

“There was an incident. A few weeks ago, but . . . it’s unrelated, I am sure. It led to the departure of the other tutor, Miss Goddard, who used to work here, and with her she took one of the boys.”

“Please tell us, Mr. Markham,” Anne asked. “Anything you remember might be helpful.”

“I can’t tell you more, except that Miss Goddard seemed very agitated, perhaps not in possession of her full wits, and she was dismissed. I was sorry, for Lucy was a good friend and . . . well, a good friend.”

It was frustrating to have glimpses of moments that, if they could all be seen at once, might reveal the truth, but there seemed little more that Mr. Markham could tell them.

“One last thing, Mr. Markham,” Anne said, holding out in her palm the medallion that had been left in Joseph’s bed. “Have you ever seen an item such as this before? Exactly like this, I mean to say.”

Mr. Markham leant over her palm, examining the medallion for some moments.

“I do not recall that I have,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Markham.” Charlotte stood, nodding to her sisters. “We are most grateful for your time. Next we need to talk to Cook—please, will you direct us?”

“Not I,” Emily said at once. “I should like to talk to the children.”

“Whatever for, Emily?” Charlotte asked sharply. “None of these children was even born in the year that concerns us.”

“That may be true,” Emily said, “and yet when it comes to monsters, children are the greatest experts of all.”

38

Emily