Alfred's mind raced, parsing the events of the past few minutes. Something was amiss—a shadowy scheme veiled by layers of intrigue. He could feel the tendrils of deception curling around them, threatening to pull him into a web of uncertainty.
'I can't overlook the matter. The lantern?'
Alfred's brows arched in deep contemplation, his fingers clenching around the carriage door's handle. He knew so well about the lantern. But he could not understand who did it.
Veronica's name danced at the edges of his thoughts. Could she be the one responsible? Her familiarity with the library's layout made her a plausible candidate, but doubt gnawed at his certainty. If Veronica were the intruder, why hadn't she confided in him?
