The sound of Mr. van Kirk and Victor’s raised voices crept through the cracks between the doors of the library and the floor. The voices floated down the hall and left short, angry snippets in their wake for others to inadvertently catch. I was planning to retire to my room for the evening when I heard them and slowed my normal stride to a slow creep.
Williams stood outside the door. His face was passive, giving no indication that he could hear the argument taking place within. Only the corners of his mustache twitched, as if trying to escape, when a particularly loud word echoed against the doors.
“Williams,” I whispered. “I suppose you will not tell me what they’re on about.”
He gave me a stern look.
“But it could not possibly be your fault if I chose to stand next to you, have a cha
