even lives that might have been lost, if the fire had not been so quickly discovered.
Beside her, Corrie surveyed the blackened brick walls and broken glass strew over the alley. “Well, I guess it is now more than merely a threat.”
Krista sighed. “I was wrong. I should have gone to the authorities as you said.”
“It is not too late for that. And you need to tell your father. There is no way you can keep this a secret.”
She nodded. She would send the professor a note. She didn’t want him to worry, but there was simply no way around it.
“Who do you think it was?” Corrie asked.
“I have no idea. Perhaps the police will have some notion.”
“It is possible, but they are very busy. Perhaps we should hire someone ourselves to look into the matter.”
“That is a very good idea. In the letter I send to Father, I shall ask him if he knows anyone who might be competent to handle the job.”
Krista watched the firemen roll up their hoses and carry them back to the fire wagon. The police would be there soon and there would be questions to answer.
Corrie cast her a look. “Send the letter today, Krista.”
Krista blinked against the stinging smoke. “Yes, I believe I had better.”
Leif strode into the stables at Heartland, a big stone building that smelled of dust and fresh cut hay. Perched on his shoulder, the tiny monkey, Alfinn, screeched merrily, glad to be back in his favorite place. As they walked into the shadowy interior, the monkey leaped away, landing on the top rail of one of the stalls and climbing up into the rafters.
“Behave yourself, Alf,” Leif warned, and the monkey chattered a noisy reply, content with his surroundings and the stable boy, Jamie Suthers, who had mostly taken over his care.
“He’s full o’ mischief this mornin’,” said the lanky, dark-haired boy with obvious affection.
“He’s enjoying himself. He likes you, Jamie.” Leif waved at the youth, happy that Alf had found another friend, and headed back to the house, making his way inside, then down the marble-floored hall and into the high-ceilinged library the professor used for a study.
After months of long days spent in the comfortable wood-paneled, book-lined room, he felt more at ease in here than in any other room of the big, elegant country house.
Leif thought about those first few weeks after his arrival. Heartland was a place fit for a king. Built of beautiful golden stone, standing four stories high and protected by a roof of heavy black slate, the house sat on a knoll surrounded by vast fields of rolling green. The lawns and gardens were perfectly groomed, and a stream, rich with fish, rippled alongside the house.
The interior was more magnificent than anything he, with his limited view of the world, could ever have imagined, with even more lavish furnishings than the professor’s house in the city. The bed Leif slept in was even wider than the one in London, the mattress not just made of feathers, but the soft down feathers of a goose.
The professor had told him there were hundreds of houses far more elegant than Heartland, but to Leif it didn’t matter, for he loved the place from the moment he saw it and he couldn’t imagine why the wealthiest of men would ever want anything more.
He sat down in an ornately carved wooden chair that reminded him of the high-backed chair his father, as chieftain, sat in up on the dais in their longhouse back home. This chair was only one of six that surrounded a beautiful carved wooden table in the middle of the library. A stack of books the professor thought Leif might find interesting sat on the table in front of him. Cracking open the one on top, he settled in to read.
He didn’t have much time, he knew. Soon Professor Hart would arrive with a new list of words and meanings, and they would start his lessons again. The hours were long and tiring, but he was doing very well, the professor said, and Leif believed the outcome would be worth it.
He
Beside her, Corrie surveyed the blackened brick walls and broken glass strew over the alley. “Well, I guess it is now more than merely a threat.”
Krista sighed. “I was wrong. I should have gone to the authorities as you said.”
“It is not too late for that. And you need to tell your father. There is no way you can keep this a secret.”
She nodded. She would send the professor a note. She didn’t want him to worry, but there was simply no way around it.
“Who do you think it was?” Corrie asked.
“I have no idea. Perhaps the police will have some notion.”
“It is possible, but they are very busy. Perhaps we should hire someone ourselves to look into the matter.”
“That is a very good idea. In the letter I send to Father, I shall ask him if he knows anyone who might be competent to handle the job.”
Krista watched the firemen roll up their hoses and carry them back to the fire wagon. The police would be there soon and there would be questions to answer.
Corrie cast her a look. “Send the letter today, Krista.”
Krista blinked against the stinging smoke. “Yes, I believe I had better.”
Leif strode into the stables at Heartland, a big stone building that smelled of dust and fresh cut hay. Perched on his shoulder, the tiny monkey, Alfinn, screeched merrily, glad to be back in his favorite place. As they walked into the shadowy interior, the monkey leaped away, landing on the top rail of one of the stalls and climbing up into the rafters.
“Behave yourself, Alf,” Leif warned, and the monkey chattered a noisy reply, content with his surroundings and the stable boy, Jamie Suthers, who had mostly taken over his care.
“He’s full o’ mischief this mornin’,” said the lanky, dark-haired boy with obvious affection.
“He’s enjoying himself. He likes you, Jamie.” Leif waved at the youth, happy that Alf had found another friend, and headed back to the house, making his way inside, then down the marble-floored hall and into the high-ceilinged library the professor used for a study.
After months of long days spent in the comfortable wood-paneled, book-lined room, he felt more at ease in here than in any other room of the big, elegant country house.
Leif thought about those first few weeks after his arrival. Heartland was a place fit for a king. Built of beautiful golden stone, standing four stories high and protected by a roof of heavy black slate, the house sat on a knoll surrounded by vast fields of rolling green. The lawns and gardens were perfectly groomed, and a stream, rich with fish, rippled alongside the house.
The interior was more magnificent than anything he, with his limited view of the world, could ever have imagined, with even more lavish furnishings than the professor’s house in the city. The bed Leif slept in was even wider than the one in London, the mattress not just made of feathers, but the soft down feathers of a goose.
The professor had told him there were hundreds of houses far more elegant than Heartland, but to Leif it didn’t matter, for he loved the place from the moment he saw it and he couldn’t imagine why the wealthiest of men would ever want anything more.
He sat down in an ornately carved wooden chair that reminded him of the high-backed chair his father, as chieftain, sat in up on the dais in their longhouse back home. This chair was only one of six that surrounded a beautiful carved wooden table in the middle of the library. A stack of books the professor thought Leif might find interesting sat on the table in front of him. Cracking open the one on top, he settled in to read.
He didn’t have much time, he knew. Soon Professor Hart would arrive with a new list of words and meanings, and they would start his lessons again. The hours were long and tiring, but he was doing very well, the professor said, and Leif believed the outcome would be worth it.
He
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