Entering the chapel Thomas Thorpe breathed hard against a searing flush of anger, the same which had burned since that meeting. Turley might have known what had been in store for Ann Spencer and that knowledge might have caused him to ask what he had on purpose, knowing full well any refusal on Thomas Thorpe’s part would have flown about the town on wings an eagle might envy. Irritated further by the thought, he flung it away. Turley didn’t have second sight, he couldn’t know and neither could anybody else. He collected a pile of hymn books from a table placed near the door. A few more minutes were all he had needed, a few minutes would have seen them inside Chapel House and Ann Spencer would have been right where he had wanted her . . . and exactly how he wanted her, naked and spread-eagled on the bed, tied there if need be. But Thomas Thorpe had not been given satisfaction, all due to Ezekial Turley wanting a word. But why had the man insisted they talk right then, why had he used the excuse of ‘old bones’ when those same old bones carried him about the town with little apparent difficulty?
