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.They were just as much in the dark as ever, unless he could somehow search through the village and find the man whose bruises and battered knuckles would prove that he had been in a fistfight.Benedict sighed, his hand going up to gingerly touch the darkening bruise on his own cheekbone.It might work, if only he could think of some way to get a glimpse of everyone’s hands and face.But the villain would know the marks would identify him, and he would be certain to stay in today—just as Benedict wished to do.He did not want to expose himself to his friend Jermyn’s quick mind and probing questions.It wouldn’t be long before Jermyn had the whole story of what had happened between Benedict and Camilla, and he would not hesitate to tell Benedict how he had mishandled the whole affair.He knew he would go.He had to, given Jermyn’s urgent summons.His decision, however, had been sped up by the fact that Purdle came in and announced that Harold Elliot had come calling.Benedict rose to his feet immediately, but he was unable to escape the vicar completely.Cousin Harold strode in, smiling beatifically before Benedict could get out the door, and commented in shocked tones on the bruised condition of Benedict’s face.Another ten minutes had followed of Cousin Harold’s regrets that they would not be able to enjoy another little chat before Benedict was able to make his escape.By that time, Lieutenant Woollery had risen to his feet and been following Benedict, explaining that he was certain Benedict would need help with his errand.The ride helped clear Benedict’s head a little of its cobwebs, and while he did not feel cheerful when he strode into the inn a few minutes later, at least he was no longer in the sullens.He and Woollery were immediately ushered into the private room.Jermyn Sedgewick, seated on a bench beside the fire, jumped up at his entrance.“Benedict! It’s good— Good God, man, what happened to you?”“Oh.” Benedict raised his hand ruefully to his bruise.“That.An encounter with the man we are seeking, I’m afraid.”Sedgewick’s face lit up.“Then you saw him? Did you capture him?”“No.We came out on the worse end of it.He winged Anthony and managed to pop me a good one.Nor did I see him.He wore a mask, and I was unable to get it off.We were following him and his two cohorts, and they ambushed us.It was a complete, bloody failure.I handled it like the veriest raw recruit.”“I doubt that.”“You would not if you had been there,” Benedict told him bitterly.“We were saved by Lieutenant Woollery here, and Camilla and her butler.”“Lieutenant Woollery!” Jermyn looked more closely at the other man.His face lit up.“My God, man, it is you! I hardly recognized you out of uniform.And you’ve lost a good bit of weight.”“Yes, sir.It’s good to see you, sir.”“But this must mean that you made it through, that nothing happened to you.”Woollery and Benedict quickly disabused him of that notion, describing the attack on the young man and the way that Anthony had helped him.They went on to explain their plan to capture the traitor the night before, and its failure.“I see,” Jermyn said, sitting back in his chair and steepling his fingers in front of his mouth.“Perhaps my report will be of some use to us, then.”“You mean you’ve got something?” Benedict perked up.“Why didn’t you tell us?”“I’m not sure if it is going to lead us to the traitor.It seems unlikely, but…” He shrugged.“All right.Here is what I learned about the guests at Chevington Park.First of all, Mr.Thorne.Apparently he is exactly what he appears to be, a young man of modest fortune who fancies himself a poet and is at the moment stricken with love for the Viscountess Marbridge.He came up from the country last year to acquire some town polish and to ‘explore his muse.’ He has doting parents— Well, he would have to, wouldn’t he, to still be alive? But he seems to live within his means, not caring much for the more practical things of life, and the only crime he seems to have committed is writing excruciatingly bad poetry.”Benedict grunted.“What about Oglesby?”“Ah.Mr.Oglesby is somewhat more interesting.His real name is Jack Cooper, and his father is a bookkeeper.He has no visible means of support—except for his face and form
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