I gulped and tried not to look at him. "That's a shame," I said quickly. "Because you're both nice people. I'm sure you would have got along."

"Not everyone would think that way," Culvert said.

"Oh but you seem very nice to me."

He blushed again and bowed his head. "I was referring to Beaufort. He was well liked by most at school," he said, "adored even. But certainly not everyone put him up on a pedestal. I'm sure some would have preferred to drag him off it."

"I wasn't on any bloody pedestal," Jacob said, drawing himself up to his full height.

I found that hard to believe. I'd spent much of the previous night picturing him on one, made of white marble and carved in the Roman style.

Jacob edged toward Culvert, looking like he wanted to make his presence known in the most dramatic way a ghost can. It was time to steer the conversation away from the subject of Jacob before Culvert found the rug pulled out from under him, quite literally.

"Perhaps it wasn't Jacob who told me about your father's collection of books on demonology, perhaps it was someone else." I hoped I sounded convincing but I suspect I came across like a flighty female. "The fact of the matter is, I have an interest in demons and I'm hoping you'll be kind enough to allow me to make use of your library to further my studies."

Culvert pushed his spectacles up his nose. "You're interested in demons?"

"Yes. It's a natural extension from my other activities, don't you think?"

His mouth twisted in thought. "I suppose so. Is there any demon in particular you want to study?"

"Shape-shifting demons."

He paused. "Well that's a coincidence."

"Why?"

"A book on shape-shifting demons was stolen from my library just last week."

CHAPTER 4

Jacob and I exchanged glances. The coincidence was too close for my liking. One week a book on demonology is stolen and the next a shape-shifting demon just happens to be summoned from the Otherworld? Unlikely.

"Stolen!" I said to Mr. Culvert. "By whom?"

George Culvert drummed his fingers on his knee, sighed, drummed some more then finally answered me. "I'm sad to say that it must have been one of the servants. I can see no other explanation. No one enters during the day without Greggs the footman letting them in and the house is locked up at night. It must have been someone who lives here and since Mother and I do not need to steal it..." He sank back into the chair, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed. He looked like a deflated balloon. I knew what it was like to have a trusted servant steal from you. Bella's predecessor had taken the payment from one of our séances before we'd had a chance to put it away. Celia and I had been devastated when we saw the money fall out of her apron pocket.