Love for Sale

home to take a steaming hot bath before she came down with a cold.
    Robert, whose hands were so freezing they were numb, nevertheless gave up with bad grace. “All right. I guess Agatha and I are the only ones having fun,“ he said, starting to gather up the croquet paraphernalia to return to the school on Monday. He was as grumpy as a child who hadn’t gotten enough sleep. This was rare behavior. Except when he was talking politics, he was normally cheerful.
    Lily and Mr. Prinney fled, and Lily called Agatha inside, petting her and saying, “Good dog.”
    Robert went up to the room where the men were having their meeting and asked if they needed a fire made. “The furnace doesn’t work all that well up here.”
    He was told, again through a mere crack in the door, but this time by a young man who spoke well and was no longer in disguise, that he could just leave some firewood by the door and he’d take care of it.
    “Would you like to help me carry it up?“ Robert asked, a bit put out. He hadn’t anticipated this being part of the job.
    “I’m sorry, but I can’t,“ the young man said, sounding genuinely regretful, as if he’d rather fetch wood than sit in the meeting.
    Robert hauled two loads from the backyard and then went back for a third load for himself, lit the fireplace in his own room, and took a long hot bath.
    At dinner, Phoebe said, “I heard those men doing a sort of chant when I went up the stairs.”
    Robert smiled. “The stairs don’t go anywhere near their room.”
    Phoebe blushed. “No. I was just snooping, I admit.“
    “What sort of chant?“ Lily asked, taking a second helping of the delicious pork roast Mrs. Prinney had made.
    “They were doing it so quietly, I couldn’t tell.“
    “I’ll bet they’re rehearsing some sort of nasty political chant they’ve come up with in sheer desperation,“ Robert speculated. “I actually saw one of them without the disguise when I took their dinner up. A respectable looking chap.“
    “Did they mention when they’re leaving?“ Mrs. Prinney asked, her mind on food. She had enough to feed them through Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday breakfast, but not Tuesday lunch.
    “Not a word,“ Robert replied, little knowing how very much longer they’d end up involving the residents of Grace and Favor—against everyone’s choice.

Chapter 5

    Early Sunday morning, Lily was going down the second-floor hall on her way to help Mrs. Prinney prepare breakfast for the guests. As she approached the stairway, a young man burst out of the master suite. He was a good-looking blond fellow about Lily’s age, in a dark blue and red dressing gown with sleep creases on the left side of his face.
    “Miss Brewster,“ he said, running to meet her, “call the police, please. Our employer is dead. Murdered.”
    He ran back to the suite without another word.
    Lily immediately went downstairs and did as he asked. Chief of Police Howard Walker answered sleepily.
    “It’s Lily Brewster. A guest here says another guest has been murdered,“ she told him.
    “Who is the victim?“ Walker asked. His voice was muffled because he was trying to get dressed even as he was speaking to her.
    “I have no idea what their names are,“ Lily admitted.
    “You don’t know the names of the people who are in your house?“
    “I’ll explain that later. Shall I call Dr. Polhemus?”
    “I’ll call him, Lily, and then I’ll come right over. Stay calm.”
    Lily went to the kitchen to speak to Mrs. Prinney and said only that one of the guests had died. “Apparently we won’t be serving breakfast for a while. Chief Walker and Dr. Polhemus are on the way. I’ll wait at the door for Howard.”
    As she waited, the blond young man came rushing down the stairs. He was now dressed but his tie was askew. He’d smoothed down his hair and apparently had tried to shave, but had nicked up half of his face and given up. He was now wearing small gold spectacles. “Are the police on the way, Miss Brewster?“
    “Yes. Who are you?“ It was time she learned some of their names.
    “Edward Price, Miss Brewster. I’m the one who spoke to you on the phone.“
    “Yes, I recognize your voice, but you never told me who you were.“
    “Why’s it taking the police so long to get here?“ He had taken his glasses off and was ineffectively trying to clean them with his handkerchief. He looked as if he were a highly upset professor. In fact, he looked vaguely familiar, like someone she’d