Nora took the note back to the lamp room and laid it beside the logbook. The handwriting matched. The same looped E. The same tailed g. There was no longer any pretending that she was dealing with a forger, a ghost or a coincidence.
For three nights she watched the cliff from the tower. On the third night the lantern appeared again, and this time she was ready. Years in the maritime archives had taught her more than shelf numbers; she knew Morse code, because half the old shipping logs were written in it. She sat with a pencil and decoded the blinks one by one. The message was short and it repeated: STORM COMING. GATHER PROOF. TRUST MARA.
She lowered the pencil. Mara Quill, with her ink-stained fingers, had told her to hide the book. Mara had known something all along. Nora put on her coat and went down the ninety-nine steps in the dark.
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