Royce took a sip of his wine, and when he did, Hadrian took over the tale. “We scaled the exterior of the east tower, or rather Royce did, and he dropped me a rope. It wasn’t as tall, but it was the closest to the one Archibald had the letters in. We used Mason’s arrows to connect the two towers and, with our knees wrapped around the rope, inched our way across the length hand over hand.”

“But there are no windows in the tower,” Albert protested.

“Who said anything about using a window?” Royce interjected. “The arrows anchored in the taller tower’s roof.”

“Yep, as I said, that was quality craftsmanship,” Mason said proudly.

“So, that gets you to the tower, but how did you get in? Through the chimney?” Albert inquired.

“No, it was too small, and last night there was a fire burning,” Hadrian said, “so we used Mason’s second little tool, a small saw, and cut the roof on a bevel. All in all, the night was going pretty much according to plan, until Archibald decided to visit his study. We figured he’d have to leave eventually, so we waited.”

“We should have just slipped down, cut his throat, and taken the letters,” Royce insisted.

“But we weren’t being paid for that, were we?” Hadrian reminded him. Royce rolled his eyes in response. Ignoring him, Hadrian continued. “As I was saying, we lay there waiting and the wind on the top of that tower was bitter. The bastard must have sat in that room for two hours.”

“You poor thing,” Emerald purred and nuzzled him like a cat.

“The good news was he actually looked at the letters while we were watching him through the cuts, so we knew right where the safe was. Then a carriage came into the courtyard, and you’ll never guess who it was.”

“The marquis arrived while you were on the roof?” Albert asked with his mouth full of roast beef.