Page 81 of The Grey Wolf
“Dominican. Domini Canis,” said Simon. “Hound of the Lord. They were the Inquisition.”
Now it came back to Jean-Guy. “The young monk.”
“He had a fine singing voice, from what I remember,” said Gamache.
“Yes,” agreed Simon.
Both investigators, used to listening closely, heard in that other fine voice the minor key of resentment.
“And where is Brother Sébastien?” asked Gamache. “I didn’t see him either.”
“He got a message from a colleague in the Vatican, an American, I think, and left for Rome.”
“How long ago was this?”
Frère Simon considered. “It was after the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist.”
“Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day,” said Jean-Guy. “Late June.”
“How long after?” asked Gamache.
Frère Simon looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. Time is measured differently here.”
“Did he say why he was going?”
“If he did, he only told Dom Philippe, and the Abbot didn’t share it with us. Then the Abbot received a letter from Frère Sébastien, and he left. Left me in charge.”
He did not look happy.
“And said nothing to you?” said Gamache, astonished.
“He said he’d be back. But…” The monk looked around the office and through the door into the small neat room that served as the Abbot’s bedroom.
Frère Simon, stoic until now, pressed his lips together so firmly they disappeared, as his chin dimpled.
Leaving the monk to his thoughts, and feelings, the Sûreté officers began their search of the office and bedroom.
Once recovered, Frère Simon joined Gamache, who was looking through the desk. “We’ve looked. I’ve looked. Almost every day I come in here and search again, thinking he must have left a note behind. Some explanation. He wouldn’t just leave us. Would he?”
There was yearning in the man’s voice and desperation in his eyes.
“Non,” said Gamache. “I don’t think he would.”
He brought a sheet of paper from his breast pocket and handed it to the monk. “Do you know what that is?”
Jean-Guy had joined them and shook his head, indicating he’d found nothing.
“A list of herbs,” said Simon. “Why are you showing me this?”
“Dom Philippe gave it to me.”
“You saw him? When?” Frère Simon was suddenly animated.
“He came to visit me a couple days ago.”
“What did he say? How did he look? Was he all right?”
“We didn’t actually meet, but he left that. And”—Armand took out the other page—“this was also sent to me, by someone else.”
