“That was my concern too, hence why I’ve been using the copy I made of this original in a variety of locations. But up here in the corner—you’ll see what looks like ‘from the John.’ And that M made me think Mucknell. And look here.” A tapping, presumably as Beth pointed to something. “It says cave. Or maybe cavern—there’s a bit of water damage here. Which means, if it’s Scilly—”

“Piper’s Hole.” Mabena let loose a long breath. “On Tresco?”

“That was where I searched first, it being so near home. And I’ve looked several times since in the last month.”

Oliver’s huff might have been a laugh. Maybe. “Why do I have the feeling that if we noted when you’d been there, it would align with Enyon’s sleepless nights?”

Beth sounded sheepish as she said, “I’ve tried to be quiet.”

“Found nothing though, I assume?” Sheridan again, and the lad at Christmas had turned into one whose promise of his first fox hunt had been ruined by a downpour.

“No.”

“What about the Piper’s Hole here on St. Mary’s?” Oliver again, though not so much musing as enlightened. “That’s why you wanted to come here for the summer.”

“Well, I couldn’t just go poking around in the daytime. There are too many tourists about. I needed to be somewhere that I could easily do my exploring without anyone knowing. Though, again—nothing.”

“All right. What about where you found the map? Not that you’ve told us that bit.” Oliver seemed to be striving for patience in his tone, though she could hear its ragged edge. “Was there anything else in the same place that could be helpful?”

A beat of silence that spoke quite loudly. Louder than Beth’s voice when next she spoke. “Letters. From Mucknell to his wife. One of them mentioned that he would send her a songbird as a gift. I thought it was code, since that last ship was the Canary.”

“Secret codes. Perfect.” The lad at Christmas was back. “And that was the one with the silver, yes?”

“Yes, but I couldn’t find any other clues in the letters.”

“Well, get them out! I mean, that is—you could. We could help?”

Beth sighed. “I don’t have them here on St. Mary’s. They’re . . . back in the place where I found them. For safekeeping. But I’ll fetch them later.”

Libby really ought to go out and join them. And she did want to see the map—not that she’d have any better idea what it might be denoting than the locals did. And if it were water damaged, how could they even be sure they had all the necessary information? With a quiet sigh, she rested a finger on the mirror of the microscope and gave it a twirl. Light flashed over the walls, floor, ceiling. And into her mind.