I blew out a breath and looked at the boy, frustration mingling with relief. “I suppose that was your idea of a rescue.”

“Did you want that doctor to catch you in there? It’s not like you heard him coming.”

“I was only looking about.”

“You was snooping.”

“You couldn’t even see what I was doing in there.” With a grumble, I got down on my knees and helped sop up the mess with a rag he’d dropped over it.

“Enough to know you was doing it wrong.”

I grumbled more as the boy began whistling through his teeth, getting on with his work as if it were some pleasant task. “What do you know?”

“Alls I know is, there’s a wrong way to snoop, and a right way.” A jangle of heavy keys had me snapping my gaze back up, looking at the proud little face. A large ring of keys dangled from one finger. “One good turn for another, I says.”

I was speechless.

“Aren’t nothin’ worth seein’ in that little office. No one uses it just now. But Thornhill’s office . . .”

The head of the asylum. The superintendent. “You have a key to it?”

“And now, on slop duty, no one’ll be hanging about to see you. Help me real fast so’s you have time to run down before Thornhill finishes rounds. That’s usually in about half an hour from now.”

My throat was tight. “What’s in his office?”

The boy shrugged. “Whatever it is you’re looking for, guaranteed.” He swept the rags up with a dry one and dropped them in a wheelbarrow nearby. “About time someone cared to check up on things. Right glad to help whoever’s bold enough.”

I rose. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head, wiping his hands on another rag. “Things ain’t right here, and if I could read, I’d already know what it was. So now, here’s your chance to do it instead.” Then the whistling began again.

I stood, shocked and awed. There was a light at the end of the tunnel—or, as they say, perhaps it was an approaching train. I wasn’t sure which, but serious-faced little Lew Wiggins was the first ray of hope I’d had in days.

It would be practice, this clandestine operation. Practice for when I had a chance to sneak women out of their homes one day and smuggle them to safety. Richard’s reaction to my whole plan had planted the seeds of doubt in my mind—doubt about whether or not a sheltered pianist with no experience could even accomplish such a thing. This would be my proof to myself. A test of my abilities. And I was certain to find something in that office that would change the direction of my current search—something.