Scott regarded the Harvard scientist with some skepticism. The man looked almost too much like a picture of a professor. He had on a worn tweed jacket with leather elbow patches. His gray slacks showed wear at the cuffs. His moccasin-­type shoes were scuffed and unpolished. But as the man knocked his pipe out and unwound from his chair, it was with a sense of confidence that made Scott lift his own head hopefully.

The hopefulness did not last beyond Peter Hubbard’s first comment. “I can’t tell you anything useful at this point, obviously,” the man told the group gravely. “Just as obviously, you may have caught a severe problem here. The fact is that some sections of the country have reported unusual rat infestation this year. Until this morning I hadn’t heard of it in Cape areas, but rats could have come in by any boat, and they breed quickly. I came out fast today because if you do have a rat problem, we need to identify it in the shortest possible time frame.

“My first priority is to set up a temporary lab.” He turned to Johnson. “Where will I be working, sir?”

“How about the attic right here? You can look it over—”

Despite herself, Elizabeth interrupted, “Grandpa, you’re not going to bring those rats into the house?” For a moment she thought Peter Hubbard resented her interfering, but instead she gratefully heard him support her. “It might not be wise, captain,” he said. “I’m not going to have all the precautions of a solid lab arrangement, you know.”

Elizabeth saw the man’s eyes on hers, and read friendship in them, an offer to start anew. She was not mistaken about it. Peter Hubbard had forgotten how charming a smile Elizabeth Carr had, and he was taking her in as a captivating, grown woman for the first time.

The sheriff suggested, “We have a room over the jail. It’s got water faucets, some tables . . .”

Craig Soaras observed reasonably, “But that’s in the center of town. If anything got loose, there could be hell to pay, couldn’t there?”

“I’m afraid so,” Hubbard agreed.

Stephen Scott spoke for the first time. “Also, we don’t want everybody in Yarkie hearing about this until we know what it’s all about. Right?” He gave them all his best smile, the one he used when he rapped his gavel to adjourn a town hall meeting.

Heads nodded around the room.

Ben Dorset reminded them, “There’s the old lighthouse, up northside.”

“Good man, Ben!” Scott endorsed.

Elias Johnson thought it over. “Makes sense to me,” he told the scientist. “We’ll run you over for a look-­see. You tell us what you need, we’ll put it in.”

Amos Tarbell added, “It’s far enough out of the village so nobody will bother you, and close enough to Harbor Road so you can get in and out.”