Isaac picked up the revolver. It was reasonably well maintained, and the wood grain of its grip had been worn smooth and glossy. He opened the cylinder to find six silver bullets neatly lined up inside.
He emptied the bullets out one by one and examined them in his palm. Intricate patterns had been etched into them, depicting branches and leaves.
These were special holy silver bullets made by the Church of the Golden Bough to deal with evil creatures. Naturally, Edward had left them behind too. Isaac didn't know whether they would still work after all these years, but they were better than nothing.
Hopefully I won't need them... Isaac loaded the bullets back into the cylinder one by one, closed it, lifted his pillow, and tucked the gun underneath.
Besides the revolver, there was a sheathed letter opener at the bottom of the trunk. Isaac slipped it straight into his pants pocket. Once he was done, he got up, hung his clothes in the wardrobe, and took a couple of steps over to the full-length mirror.
The mirror reflected Isaac: black hair, deep blue eyes, and handsome features, though not of the rugged sort. One button at the collar of his shirt was undone, and he wore a dark brown waistcoat over it. His trousers had picked up some dust during the journey.
He reached up to smooth his hair, then adjusted his trousers to make sure the outline of the letter opener didn't show.
He went to the desk, where a layer of dust had settled. Isaac wiped it down, spread out the folded and somewhat crumpled newspaper, then fished a pencil out of his trunk and sat down.
The light coming through the window was enough to read by. He went over the report again, trying to find information hidden beneath the official wording.
"An unknown number of robbers infiltrated the bank vault through unknown means." Unknown means-did that mean they hadn't forced the main door open?
"They broke open several private safes." Several, not all. That meant the robbers might have been selective.
"All cash and gold bar reserves remain intact." He had already guessed that the robbers' target wasn't the bank's money, but items certain clients had stored in their private safes...
As he read, a faint sound suddenly came from outside the door.
Creak-
It sounded like someone had stepped on the wooden floor, making an old board groan under the weight. Isaac paused and listened, but the sound didn't come again, as if it had only been his imagination.
He got up and walked to the door, slipping one hand into his pocket to grip the handle of the letter opener and taking hold of the doorknob with the other. After a deep breath, he yanked the door open.
Unsurprisingly, the hallway was empty. Isaac glanced at the floor, then looked toward the stairwell.
The afternoon passed as Isaac studied the newspaper from every angle and analyzed the current situation in his notebook. He didn't go downstairs for dinner either. Instead, he took out the dry bread and water flask he had stuffed into his trunk that morning and washed down a few bites of bread with water, calling that dinner.
Seeing that it was getting late, Isaac put out the kerosene lamp, which had barely lit half the room. The faint glow of streetlights came through the window, so the room wasn't completely dark.
He returned to the bed and lay down fully dressed. He closed his eyes, but didn't actually go to sleep. In a supposedly haunted room like this, he clearly couldn't sleep too deeply. Something would most likely happen tonight.
After an unknown amount of time, a faint sound came from the door, like metal scraping against metal. Isaac shifted slightly and reached under his pillow for the revolver, all the while maintaining the posture of someone asleep.
A moment later, faint weeping came from outside the door, raising the hairs on his skin in the quiet of the night. Isaac's heartbeat quickened slightly, and he waited in silence.
A few seconds later, the door, which should have been locked, slowly opened, and the weeping stopped abruptly. Isaac cracked his eyes open and, by the light from outside the window, saw a white figure standing in the doorway.
The figure stood motionless, its face impossible to make out, just like a ghost. After standing in the doorway for a moment, it slowly moved inside. Isaac kept his eyes fixed on the figure as it approached the bed step by step.
The moment the figure stopped and seemed about to bend down, Isaac pressed the revolver against it.
The figure froze. Isaac opened his eyes and saw what the "ghost" really was-a person draped in a white sheet, with two holes cut out for the eyes. Those eyes were now full of shock. He clearly hadn't expected the young man to pull a move like that.
"Dressing up as a ghost in the middle of the night isn't very polite, Mr. Fenn," Isaac said.
"...How did you know, kid?"
The voice belonged to the mercenary who had "kindly" warned him about the haunting rumors. Keeping the gun pressed against Fenn's side, Isaac slowly sat up. "When that lady was looking through the register, I caught a glimpse of what was written in it. The room numbers were listed next to the tenants' names. And not long ago, someone rented several rooms on the third floor, all under the same name: James Fenn."
Fenn lifted the sheet, his expression less than pleasant. "So you knew I was lying from the start?"
"I just thought it was strange," Isaac said. "Mr. Fenn, when you came up to me and mentioned the haunting rumors, something already felt off. Someone had recently rented several rooms on the third floor, and then a person came over to tell a new tenant about the haunting rumors. What occurred to me was that this person was the one who had rented those rooms and didn't want anyone else staying on the third floor."
Fenn clicked his tongue. "Damn, I did handle that pretty clumsily... Who knew you'd trace it back to me so quickly?"
Huh?
Isaac was puzzled. He'd only made a deduction, so how had it turned into "tracing it back to him"?
Seeing that Isaac said nothing, Fenn assumed he was weighing something and lowered his voice. "But let me warn you, I've got someone backing me. You'd better not lay a hand on me."
Isaac kept his expression neutral, understanding dawning on him. Fenn had probably gotten the wrong idea somehow, thinking Isaac had come with some specific purpose, perhaps to investigate something on someone else's behalf.
Isaac decided not to clear up the misunderstanding for now. He didn't know what Fenn was up to, but since Fenn had already imagined a whole scenario for himself, playing along would probably make it easier to get more information out of him.
Fenn's eyes flickered. "Hmph, then you should know it won't do you any good to touch me."
"Maybe, but since I've traced it this far, I have to give someone an answer."
"Well... I'll return the thing in a few days anyway. There's no need to make a big fuss, is there?" Fenn curled his lip, but his tone betrayed a hint of guilt.
The thing? Return it?
Isaac's interest stirred. The mention of something being returned immediately brought the Palmer Bank robbery to mind. After all, it was the case of missing property that concerned him most at the moment.