Miss Hamilton’s prediction proved correct. Sophia had scarcely been settled into her infirmary bed before Concordia and a nearly-dry Mr. Bradley were summoned (rather like naughty children, Concordia thought) to Miss Hamilton’s office, where a Lieutenant Capshaw was waiting to question them.
Capshaw rose from his seat when they entered. He was a tall, gaunt man, with wavy red hair and a neatly-trimmed mustache to match. Concordia noticed that he stooped over slightly when upright, as if continually searching for something he might have missed. The downward slant of his brows, heavy-lidded eyes, and bent head conveyed an air of perpetual melancholy. He wore the standard wool tunic of his profession, with brass buttons running down the front in a double row. His cap had been set asi
