Chapter 57: Lifting Spirits

"Absolutely brilliant, Professor Layton. We don't have much information on the statue incident, but when we get something, I'd like to speak with you. Who knows? Now that we are on to some of the Masked Gentleman's methods, perhaps we can solve this one yourselves." Inspector Bloom has a slight smile on his serious face. I rest my head in my hands, yawning slightly. We've been at this for a few hours now. Emmy, Luke, and I have managed to stay quiet while Hershel solves all the cases. It's been boring but now it seems we're wrapping up for today.

"I have faith in your team, Detective." Hershel hasn't shown any signs of fatigue or impatience, at least outwardly. I wouldn't be surprised if he was actually enjoying all this. The true gentleman in him is probably relishing in all these puzzles, though they aren't very difficult to crack. His light expression is relieving, to be frank.

"Well, at least now we know that this villain is just a big phony. He's flesh and blood like the rest of us!" Sheffield huffs, shoving his hand in his jacket pockets. His beady eyes flicker towards Bloom and narrow.

"I knew it all along! I know this masked fool's tricks now! He can run...and he can hide...but he can't run and hide from Grotsky of the Yard! I'M COMING FOR YOU, MASKHEADFACE!" The more physically capable detective rockets to the door and in a matter of seconds, he's gone. Emmy sighs, her eyes glued to the hallway outside. Hershel and I share a bewildered look. Bloom takes notice of it, folding his arms tightly.

"I'm...really very sorry about him. No matter how many times we discuss this, it doesn't seem to do any good. He's quite...excitable. Inspector Grotsky and I will continue to investigate the scene of the statue incident once he's calmed down. Professor Layton, let's convene once our officers have finished searching the scene." His sharp looking eyes switch from Hershel and I.

"Yes, that sounds like a good plan. In the meantime, Emmy, Luke, Teresa, and I will continue our own investigation," the professor agrees, gripping the brim of his hat. The white blonde detective calls the meeting adjourned, causing everyone to disperse into chatter. Luke hops off of his chair and packs his notebook into his bag. Emmy stretches slowly. I play with my bracelet absentmindedly, watching Hershel speaking with a very loud Sheffield. Now that I look at him more closely, his eyes have lost a bit of luster. This has clearly tired him out. I can't blame him really; hours of brainwork to accomplish on your own, all the while listening to constant bickering, isn't too soothing on the mind. Hopefully we'll be able to have a more relaxing day once we're out of here. This place gets stuffy after a while.

"My sincerest apologies for keeping you here so long. I know police briefings aren't the most entertaining of situations, especially for a lady." I turn my head to see D.I. Bloom leaning on a table next to me. His black eyes seem less cold than before. I ignore the slight warmth radiating from my cheeks.

"O-oh, it's not a problem Inspector. I didn't have too bad of a time. Besides, I'll do as much as I can to help you and Sheffield fix this mess. There's not a lot I have to do," I stammer, chuckling to myself. Bloom smiles warmly, which is rather surprising for him.

"That's very kind of you to say, Miss Foley. If only others were as compliant with working as you or Professor Layton are." He stares at Hershel momentarily before focusing back on me. "Now, if I may ask, how do you know the professor?"

I grip the sleeves of my jacket firmly. "We went to college together and took the same archaeology courses. But lately we've met back up after a few years. And believe me, we've covered some very interesting mysteries," I explain briefly. Bloom nods, gesturing me to continue. Goodness, he really knows how to intimidate a person. "I'm sure you've heard of them. They were the Golden Garden in Misthallery, and the island of Ambrosia."

Bloom's eyebrows raise at the mention of their names, but soon relaxes his expression. "Yes I do know of them, though not too much. I'd love to hear more though, if you'd be so gracious as to enlighten me. Particularly about Ambrosia."

"Of course, I'd be happy to. Well, one thing that I found very intriguing was something I read while on Ambrosia." I smile at Bloom's astonishment. "The professor and I were on the ship that was hijacked, yes. There was this old man along with us named Marco Brock, who had a scrapbook filled with all the known documents pertaining to their civilization. I remember looking through it and I found a diary entry from a native that left the island for exploration. It said something about a legend they passed down of an advanced race that they believed to be the creators of the universe. Oh dear, I can't remember the name of it but they had technology that surpassed what we have today." I take a deep breath after my long story. Inspector Bloom runs his hand through his blonde hair, eyes wider than normal. He opens his mouth to reply but Hershel interrupts him.

"My sincerest apologies, Inspector, Teresa, but we really should be going. I wouldn't want to keep you from your job any longer. We've already taken up a lot of your time." I nod in agreement and stand up straight.

"Not at all, Professor. It was a pleasure to listen to your story, Miss Foley. Thank you all again for your consideration. Don't hesitate to come back here if you happen to gather more information on the Masked Gentleman." Bloom shakes both our hands before we take our leave.

"What were you and Inspector Bloom discussing?" Emmy inquires curiously. I think I see Hershel fidget a little from the corner of my eye.

"Oh, it was just about the other cases we've covered. He seemed very interested in hearing about you, Hershel," I answer. The professor tilts his head to the side and opens his mouth to speak. He's cut off by the mayor.

"Layton, I just head. Stupendous! Absolutely incredible! Thank you for your help!" The big nosed elder shouts in amazement. Hershel rubs his neck.

"It was nothing, Mayor." Emmy and I shake our heads at his modesty. He practically carried the entire police force, with some help from Bloom, of course. How can he be so dismissive of praise?

"Oh, it was? Never mind, then. Wait! It was definitely not 'nothing'! The police said you debunked our 'dark miracles'! This means we can reopen the art museum! The curator will be thrilled! Maybe you could stop there so he can thank you in person! I heard we've received some new art donations. I'll personally see to it that they're checked for vanishing paint." Mayor Billson scurries off into the hallway.

I elbow Hershel, grinning. "Look at you, reviving the museum like that. You honestly need to give yourself more credit; we all know you did the majority of the work back there." Luke nods his head vigorously. It almost breaks my composure.

"Nonsense, a gentleman never brags about his efforts. Besides, I'm always happy to do something for the fine arts. Perhaps we should continue our investigation with a museum visit," Hershel suggests. I sigh at his expected evasion of my compliments. Despite some distaste towards his teacher's extreme humbleness, Luke bounces up and down upon mention of the museum.

5 hours later

The last, for lack of a better term, few hours have been running back and forth. Once we got to the art museum, the curator gave us a tip to see Madame Lapushka again. She's apparently a very old resident of Monte D'or and knows everyone. Her tip pointed us to the clowns working in the circus, who bought an unusually large amount of costumes from her. We spoke to the ringleader, and he told us he wanted to buy clothes for his employees so they could see the parade without being in their "work clothes". Not only that but one of the main attractions, Maurice the "ferocious" tiger, was there. Luke spoke to him and discovered Dalston had been visiting the creature the night of the statues. He's now off of our list for possible suspects for being the Masked Gentleman. While it's a little annoying to be back to square one, at least that's one less person to worry about.

"Oh my, it's already dark out. I completely lost track of time," Hershel mutters as we exit the large tent. The street lights are already on, lighting up every inch of darkness. I look up to the starless sky. Must be all the light pollution blocking them.

"Professor, according to his warning, the Masked Gentleman's next appearance will be happening soon!" Luke speaks up, eyebrows raised. Emmy hums in agreement and nods in the direction we have to go.

On our way to Gallery Plaza, we run into another normal cop standing in front of our hotel. Hershel seems slightly eager to talk to him.

"Is it true that the Masked Gentleman is going to appear tonight?" The uniformed man asks inquisitively. I clasp my hands tightly.

"Supposedly, he's going to be in the plaza tonight. We're on our way there right now. Do you know if Chief Sheffield is planning on increasing security tonight? That could serve to pressure the Masked Gentleman," I answer him. I try to focus on making myself sound as calm as possible. My heart's beating so fast, though I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the anticipation of what this guy is capable of.

"Well, apparently the chief knows who the Masked Gentleman's partner in crime is. He's going to make the arrest tonight." My eyes widen. How could he be so sure of this suspect to arrest him after today's briefings? Hershel scowls slightly. He doesn't agree either.

"The Masked Gentleman's partner in crime. Yes…please tell Chief Sheffield to hold off on an actions until I can speak with him," the professor instructs sternly. It's surprising to hear him so serious. I suppose it's justified though; who knows what lengths Sheffield will go to arrest this suspect.

Shaking his head, the policeman explains, "Might be too late for that. I don't know the details, but the task force is mobilizing at the plaza as we speak." Emmy stares off ahead of us, hands balled into fists. Luke shuffles nervously. It seems all of us feel the same way about this.

I hang back beside Luke as we make our way to Gallery Plaza. The boy is strangely quiet and I want to be sure he's alright. His mouth quivers as his pace quickens and slows randomly. There's definitely something on his mind.

"Hey, you doing alright down there Luke? You look like you're having a problem with something," I ask him kindly. A pair of round black eyes lock onto my own. The apprentice kicks the ground, not answering. I let out a sigh. "There's no need to feel so upset. I'm sure whatever it is, we can fix it, okay?" Luke shrugs.

"I-I don't know. It's rather ridiculous for me to feel so uptight about this but I can't really do anything about it." I squint at him in the most skeptical way possible. The boy tenses a little. "Basically, I'm worried about a lot of little things. The Masked Gentleman, the people's safety, Chief Sheffield's arrest, Mr. and Mrs. Ledore, the professor. It's just all building up. But I know I can't do anything about them on my own, because I'm just a kid. What are any of us supposed to do anyway? The Masked Gentleman is unstoppable at this point. There's no way we can figure this out so easily." He adjusts his hat. I put a hand over my heart. It's so touching to hear him say that.

"Well, it makes sense for you to feel this way. I'll be honest, this case is really worrying me to. Especially now that the professor is directly involved. However, this definitely isn't the worst thing we've seen or been through. There's always going to be some way for us to solve the mystery. We just need to look in the right places and do our best. Hey, we're already doing at least one of those things anyway," I reassure him. Luke stares at his feet in contemplation.

"So you've noticed the professor's been acting strange as well? I thought I might be imagining it…" He rubs his eyes before straightening up a bit. I put my right hand into my pocket.

"Yes, I have. Emmy has too, and I've spoken to her about his current condition. He's not one to be extroverted with his emotions. And now that this is hitting him pretty hard, I know for a fact that he'll hide it to keep working. I've told him a few times that we're a safe place for him and not to be so reclusive with his emotions around us. But there's only so many things I can say. He'll always end up acting on his gut feeling, which is very worrying to say the least. All we can do is show him that he has no reason to bottle anything up anymore. Actions speak louder than words, and that may help in breaking down his unnecessary walls in the end." I take a breath, tracing my scar absentmindedly. Luke's staring at me in shock. "S-sorry, I may have been going on for a while, wasn't I? Does any of that make sense to you?"

The apprentice waves his hands nervously. "No, no, no! I didn't mean it like that! I'm just surprised to hear you talk about the professor like that, let alone with me. He's always slightly intimidating and very polite; I would never have guessed he'd be so...human? Not to say he's abnormal or something! Oh dear, what am I saying right now?" I give him a patient smile while he recollects his thoughts. After a moment of embarrassed squawking, Luke manages to calm himself down. "The professor is my teacher, you know? I've looked up to him ever since we first met. He's like this unstoppable force of intelligence and wisdom. So it's difficult to process that he has such normal problems like anyone else," he explains slowly. Luke really knows how to speak with the mind and the heart when he focuses.

"I understand that. I felt the same way when we were first acquainted. He was, and still is, someone I could always rely on for help of any kind. His whole life seemed so put together. And now, seeing him experience all these things from his past and learning about what he's been through, it's like a whole other person. Sorry, I'm rambling again; my main point is we all need to look after him. Even when things get tough, the best solution is to support one another and stay together." Luke nods in agreement while I speak. Once I finish, he hugs me from the side in a second. I'm thrown off a bit but end up returning the gesture after a moment.

"Thank you for talking to me. I've been stuck on this for a while now," he pauses to gaze directly into my eyes. "And you should be fully aware that you can come to me, Emmy, and the professor whenever something's bothering you. Okay?" His tone is stern and instructive. I cross my heart with my finger, smiling at his concern. Luke melts into a relieved grin and lets go of me. I glance at Hershel, who's a few feet in front of us walking beside Emmy. It seems he hasn't noticed our conversation. He doesn't deserve any of this emotional baggage…

Gallery Plaza is filled with people, and the noise is louder than I expected it to be. The museum is lit up with several spotlights along with the stray colored beams around the city. Emmy sighs and I follow her line of sight to where Inspector Grotsky is standing. He seems to be just as energetic as the last time we saw him.

"What's that, Masked Gentleman? You want me to read your rights? How about a couple of lefts? WA-POW!" The loud man throws a few punches, nearly hitting Luke with one of them.

"It seems you're pretty hard at work tonight, Inspector," I call out to him above the noise. He shrugs his wide shoulders.

"Just practicing my police talk...If you're looking for Bloom, he's off arguing with Sheffield somewhere," Grotsky replies quickly. He continues punching the air. "These country bumpkins don't know the first thing about police work! We should be evacuating everyone from the plaza. No matter-I'm going to arrest the villain as soon as he appears!" If only these cops actually got along for a second. They can't even join forces properly without butting heads over who's in charge. While he's a good man and cop, Grotsky certainly isn't making this whole situation any better.

Emmy's black eyes widen as she scans the area. She shakes me slightly with one of her hands, nodding in some direction. When I follow her gaze, I notice Angela Ledore standing stiffly among the crowd. Her face is plastered with confusion and anxiety. Why is she here on her own? Hershel seems to take heed of Emmy and we collectively head over to her.

"Angela? What are you doing here? " he asks her above the noise. The platinum blonde woman blinks a few times to register what's going on. She rests her chin on one of her hands.

"I was worried, Hershel." Her short answer is a bit concerning.

"With all due respect, Angela, it really isn't safe here, especially for you. You're a possible target to the Masked Gentleman. Nobody knows when he will appear," I advise. It seems my panic is surfacing in my voice.

Mrs. Ledore doesn't so easily swayed. "If something is going on, I want to see it. We received a warning letter. It instructed Henry and me to come here. There seem to be more tourists here than usual. How do they know about this? Aren't they frightened?" Her eyes flit around us, seemingly at every person she can see. She's definitely on edge but there's something else that's bothering her, though I have no idea what.

"Curiosity can be stronger than fear," the professor replies sternly. How many times has that held up to be true? Luke asks Hershel something I don't catch while studying our surroundings once again. The Masked Gentleman didn't give a specific time he would make his grand entrance. I figured he'd be the one to schedule all of his plans and show up punctually. Then again, he also seems like he would be the 'fashionably late' type.

A strange shiver goes up my spine, followed by a sharp but quick pain. Another vision at a time like this? They seem to be more frequent than I remember. This one is a lot shorter than the previous ones but it still feels like it lasts forever. I'm standing at the bottom floor of some building; its circular center has some blue and brown mixed together. I think Hershel, Luke, and Emmy are with me, although it's hard to tell since everything's blurry and muffled. Someone dressed in nearly all white stands in front of us. Could that be the Masked Gentleman? Hershel's voice sounds serious but I can't make out complete words. The figure before me laughs, says a few words, and throws off what looks like a hat to the ground. Footsteps echo from behind. The scene is fading into white. The last thing I see are two gloved hands gripping the Mask of Chaos on both sides, as if to lift it off the face hidden by it.

"Look up there!" Luke's determined cry pulls me back from the trance. I rub my eyes to adjust them back into the slight darkness. Best not to dwell on it now. Hershel, Emmy, Angela, and I turn around to where the apprentice is pointing. The square gasps in unison as the man of mischief himself waltzes across the plaza a few yards overhead.

"Five, six, seven, eight! No one can escape their fate," the Masked Gentleman purrs, swinging his cane. He seems so at ease. It makes sense that he would be.

"How is that possible?" Emmy mutters, dumbfounded.

"I don't believe it! It can't be!" It doesn't surprise me too much to hear Dalston nearby, although his tone of voice is slightly shocking.

Angela covers her mouth with her hands, eyes wide. "Is this really some type of magic?" A pang of sympathy overcomes me as I put my arm around her shoulders while not looking away from the spectacle. She leans closer to me.

With another laugh, the floating man whips around to face the crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen, your eyes do not deceive you. Leave the deception to your local leaders. Time to wake up, Monte D'or," he raises a hand poised for a snap, "and get enlightened!" Upon his last word, he performs a snap that practically reverberates in the plaza. I can hear a weak cry, followed by a yelp, somewhere off to the left. A man in a blue vest and a woman in green are slowly rising into the air. Everyone's eyes are glued to them. A few try to pull the floaters back to the ground, jumping as high as they can, but to no avail. They continue flying upward, going faster until their screams can no longer be heard and they disappear into the night sky.

The crowd stands still, as if they're waiting for the two to fall back down. After a few seconds, everyone erupts into panic and races out of the plaza for safety. More and more people begin flying into the air, flailing for help. I feel Angela push herself further into my arms. Her breathing is heavy. I rub her back in small circles, watching the last remaining victims become engulfed into darkness. Grotsky paces around frantically, making baffled grunts. Dalston seems equally as shocked as the inspector. Hershel, who is standing beside Angela and I, silently glares above him. I use my free hand to squeeze his shoulder. It feels like a rock. He turns his head to face me. I look at him with a mixture of concern and slight fear. The professor takes heed of it and grabs my hand. I smile weakly as he laces his fingers with mine. Angela wraps her arms around me tightly, pulling me away from Hershel a bit.

"I hope you've enjoyed tonight's dark miracle. I strive to please. Monte D'or is not long for this world. Those who prosper by the mask must also wither by it. I do hope you'll be at my next show tomorrow. Stop by Pumpkin Park if you have time," the floating vigilante announces, bowing.

"Pumpkin Park? That's the amusement park here, right?" Emmy asks anyone listening. Hershel nods curtly, eyeing the Masked Gentleman, who turns to us. I hold my ground. The woman clinging to me straightens up, her eyes solemn.

"Ah! And look...it's the beautiful wife of the richest man in town! Say hello to Mrs. Angela Ledore! Mrs. Ledore, please grace us with your presence tomorrow. I suppose you can bring Mr. Ledore...if you must." He sounds almost annoyed upon mentioning her husband. Angela looks down, biting her pale lip. "Oh, and don't forget to tell the tourists that the town is cursed. Sorry I didn't mention that earlier. Those who stay will jeopardize their lives. But those who leave risk missing the greatest show ever! My curse can be lifted if someone brings forth something to oppose my power...Perhaps another mask? But the Mask of Order is another tale of woe, isn't it? Until we meet again!" With a parting bow, the Masked Gentleman hovers further up until he's gone.

Angela mutters the name of the aforementioned mask. Hershel seems to show some recognition towards it as well. Luke notices them both as I do.

"What is this 'Mask of Order'?" he inquires filled with curiosity.

"Is it some sort of complement to the Mask of Chaos? Could that mean...?" I look Angela over as she trails off. She seems a bit more calm now that the Masked Gentleman isn't around. However, it's still hard to tell.

"In essence, this Mask of Order could be capable of putting an end to all these dark miracles as well as the Masked Gentleman?" I ask her gently. Mrs. Ledore nods but she still seem unsure.

"Well, that's not going to be an easy task. The existence of the mask has never been verified," Emmy reluctantly points out. Luke lowers his head as if in defeat. The four of us stare at Hershel for an answer. He returns it for a moment before moving into his classic thinking stance. Where would we even begin to look?

Dalston waltzes up to our little group. It looks like he's smirking. "Well, what do you think, Layton?" It seems it's obvious now that he's not the perpetrator; that doesn't mean he's completely free of blame though. He could still have caused something to set all this in motion. I'm not exactly sure what, but he hasn't proved himself to be a good samaritan.

I spot practically an army of policeman charging towards us and freeze in place. They run in a strange formation, circling all of us in two lines. Luke shifts his head restlessly at the cops trapping the seven of us in. Could this be the arrest they were going to make? But which one of us could it be?...

Oh no. No, they can't think it's me, right? What if they found out something, like Descole being behind this, and unearthed our history? They'd want to get rid of any possible accomplices immediately. With Bloom on their side, there's no way they couldn't dig up that story. And even if I tried explaining that I have had nothing to do with his schemes for a while, they wouldn't believe me. It's my word against a multitude of evidence. As long as they have someone under their thumb, they'll trust that they found their culprit. There's nothing I can do; I can't fight my way out, can't run, can't ask for help. Who knows what they'll do to me. My heart is pounding so loudly I'm positive the others can hear it. Hershel's grip on my hand tightens, causing me to look him dead in the eye. That expression is the very same one he gives me when he knows something's wrong. I close my eyes, turning to the ground. I can't distract him at a time like this.

"Alphonse Dalston!" Sheffield's gruff voice rings out into the square. Everyone whips around to where he stands, hands in his pockets. "You are suspected of crimes against the city of Monte D'or. We'd like you to come with us." A wave of relief as well as distress washes over me. Are they that thick-headed?!

The accused man is having none of this. "You can't do this Sheffield! I have my rights!" His defensive stance drops a little as he sees something behind the chief of police. Hershel notices it too, gasping along with Dalston. I crane my neck for a better view. The rows of uniformed men don't help whatsoever but I can tell there's someone else joining the fray. A tall thin man with piercing blue eyes and a goatee glares at our group, but most likely more towards Dalston.

"Henry!" My mouth opens at the professor's mention of Angela's husband. Emmy and Luke are just as surprised. So this is the supposed richest man in Monte D'or and former friend of Randall Ascot. He's rather intimidating, especially his sharply narrow eyes. It's no wonder he holds so much power over the city. His business rival growls, no longer stuck in astonishment.

"Henry, I knew it was you! You set me up with this stupid letter just to get me out here because you're not man enough to face me yourself! Coward!" Dalston pulls out a piece of paper, crumples it into a ball, and throws it as he's yelling. The wadded letter rolls on the ground until it reaches Henry's feet. Mr. Ledore is unaffected by the torment.

"As long as I live, this city will not be harmed. The rest is irrelevant." His tone is cold but I don't put it past him. In a few seconds flat, Grotsky bolts out of the crowd while going on about how he'll capture the Masked Gentleman.

"Chief, he's getting away! Should we pursue?" One of the policemen pipes up.

Sheffield rolls his beady eyes and grumbles, "Let Grotsky chase after that masked lunatic. We have the mastermind here." His subordinate salutes stiffly in reply. "Now then...the jig is up, Dalston. We know you're behind all this! We just don't know how, exactly…" I'm so tempted to facepalm at how utterly ridiculous he sounds. I know that would just get me in more trouble than I want or would like to be.

"You can't be serious, Sheffield! Layton! Back me up here!" Dalston frantically glances at the professor for assistance. Even after all the insults he had thrown earlier today, Hershel steps forward without hesitation. His selflessness is definitely one of his most desirable traits.

"Chief Sheffield, if I may, the evidence we have at this point suggests that-"

"Layton, your personal connection here means you're too close to this. No offense, but I believe your judgement is clouded. The truth is, Dalston is in love with Mrs. Ledore. Has been for years. That's why he's trying to bring Henry down," the short man interjects. Hershel's eyes widen for a second but he clams up soon after, his expression void of emotion. I'm in utter disbelief; how could Sheffield just take him off the case like that?! Please don't tell me he actually believes Dalston is doing this to win over Angela.

I shake my head momentarily and approach them. "Sir, no offense, but that is one of the most drastic decisions I think you've made yet. The professor is fully capable of solving this despite his attachments to certain aspects of these events. You should be aware of the fact that he is one of the only people that can actually get the job done, apart from you or Inspector Bloom. He's not the type to let bias take over his choices in something like this. All of us are doing our best to figure out who the Masked Gentleman is, but how are we supposed to do the task we were given when you're hindering us as so?" I put a hand to my chest, taking a few deep breaths. Hershel is still stone cold but I can see his mouth twitch into a smile. The chief of police is red in the face, especially upon me bringing up Bloom. Maybe it wasn't the best thing to point out but he can't deny the truth.

"You think you can win me over with your fancy vocabulary, missy?!" I flinch slightly at his aggressive tone. He notices and takes a moment to calm down. "Look, I'm not trying to say I, or we, don't appreciate the help you've given us. However Monte D'or deserves the best, and that means I can't risk relying on a possibly influenced individual." He turns away from me, ending the conversation. I stand stuck in place. It makes a bit more sense as to why he's doing this. But is my word not enough? Besides Angela and maybe Henry or Dalston, I'd say I know Hershel inside out. He hasn't ever let his emotions dictate a case, at least when I've been around. The man is famous in Scotland Yard and has been mentioned practically world wide at this point for his intellect. Surely that should help Sheffield make his choice.

Hershel puts a hand on my shoulder without looking at me. "Chief, with all due respect, I must say I agree with Miss Foley; that theory is preposterous!" My stomach tightens. He always calls me by my first name. Is he that out of sorts right now? Sheffield scowls at the professor.

"Keep yer respect, Layton. I'm making an arrest. How should we play this, Dalston?" He holds his frown when turning to Dalston. The 'perpetrator' seems considerably more at ease than when he was previously tried.

"I'll go with you. I have nothing to hide." Sheffield only scoffs in response. As he approaches his soon to be prisoner, Dalston puts his hand up. "I want to say something to Henry. At least grant me that." The chief waves him off and takes a step back. Alphonse Dalston glares at his rival dead in the eye. "Henry, I knew you were a no-good sneak, but this is low, even for you. Setting me up like this...Wil the man who has everything stop at nothing?"

Henry is unaffected by Dalston's insults. He speaks in a scarily calm voice. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Eighteen years ago, you sent Randall into those ruins. Yeah, I know about that. I know what you do to people who get in your way! Accidents can be so convenient, eh? You're the lowest of the low, Henry. After Randall was out of the picture, you took all of the treasure for yourself. Funny how that worked out…" Dalston holds his ground against Henry's cool head.

"Your nonsense doesn't dignify a response."

"And as if that wasn't enough, you forced Angela to marry you! Do you really think she loves you? After everything you've done? Angela may be your wife, but I know not a day goes by that she doesn't blame you for Randall's death. You stole the treasure. You stole Angela. YOU STOLE RANDALL'S LIFE!" That seems to strike a chord with Mr. Ledore. His pupils shrink at the accusations.

"You couldn't be more wrong!" he shouts angrily. His stance is very defensive. Dalston doesn't seem to care.

"Really? Then ask her! Ask Angela who's behind the Masked Gentleman! Your own wife is sabotaging your little town right in front of your nose!" Sheffield stomps over to Dalston, grabs a fistful of the back of his shirt, and yanks him towards the other police officers. I didn't expect him to be so strong. "This isn't over, Ledore! You'll pay for this!" With Dalston gone, Henry notices his wife standing beside Luke. She mutters his name, clearly distraught.

Mr. Ledore sighs. "Don't, Angela. It's fine. Let's go home." He takes her hand, offering a gentle smile. HIs blonde wife nods silently. She gives me a grateful stare before heading away with her husband to their estate.

"Well, that was a lot to take in. How're you holding up?" Emmy appears next to me, watching the Ledores take their leave. We sit in silence for a few minutes while I work up the nerve to speak.

"I can't believe this. How can Sheffield be so...so idiotic?! I know that's a stupid thing to say but my goodness, there is no perfect justification for what he did. There's no way that Inspector Bloom let him carry this out himself. A-and not to mention how heavily this is affecting Hershel. He's closing up again, just as I feared, and I know he'll start blaming himself for not doing enough," I sputter out. The brunette's eyebrows are raised at how quickly I talked. The professor notices us for a second but swiftly turns around when we make eye contact.

"I understand your concern. I don't see how he's in charge of the police force, aside from his dedication. But just because he removed the professor from the case, doesn't mean we can't continue our investigation. We'll just have to be a bit more careful where we're looking. Everything will work out Teresa," she reassures me with a tight hug. I wrap my arms around her upper back and bury my face into her shoulder. Maybe I'm just overwhelmed; it's been a very long and eventful day. Not to mention this entire evening has been a bit of a trainwreck.

I don't think I could talk to Hershel now though. He seems to want to avoid anything involving tonight's events. I should give him a chance to come to me anyway. I've told him that all of us are here to listen when he needs it. It's his turn to decide whether he wants help or not. Part of me hates doing this but I know the last thing he desires is to come off as a burden or a hindrance to what he deems more important.

Once Emmy releases me, we regroup with Luke and Hershel. I notice Inspector Bloom giving a few cops orders. The professor looks like he wants to speak with him either way. The slightly dark skinned detective dips his head a little as we approach.

"Professor Layton, you look troubled. Is there something on your mind?" he asks after scanning Hershel silently with his narrow eyes. He looks at me for an answer but I just shrug halfheartedly.

"Alphonse Dalston is innocent, Detective," my friend tells him bluntly. Now that I'm closer to him I can see how distinctly tired he is.

"We have a witness who can prove it!" Luke adds, eyebrows furrowed. Of course, that tiger from the circus would clear Dalston's name for sure. Luke would have to translate but it's better than providing nothing. Bloom seems really interested in the proposition.

"Bring the witness here, please." Luke's eyes drift around the plaza as he thinks. He mutters to himself about not being able to do it. He does bring up a fair point; that animal belongs exclusively to the circus. Who knows how we'd negotiate 'borrowing' it, let alone if we were even allowed to.

I take a small step forward. "It's not an easy task to fulfill. However, it should be fully clear with the amount of evidence we've gathered that Dalston's innocent, regardless of a witness." I study the tall inspector's face for a moment.

He rubs his chin in thought. "If Dalston is innocent, then the real perpetrator is still out there somewhere. Now that we have Dalston in custody, if another 'dark miracle' happens, we'll know we have the wrong man," he stop as he notices my distressed sigh and Luke shuffling in place. "I'm sorry, but this is the only way. Please join us tomorrow morning for Dalston's interrogation. Goodnight." He gives the four of us a smile before striding away to the cluster of civilians. I play with my bracelet while spacing out.

"Well then. I suppose that is that. Let's retire to our hotel for the night," the professor states emotionlessly. His apprentice grunts in agreement. Emmy has been unusually quiet; she rubs the small of her back as we start our trek back to the Dromedary. I close my eyes. How could all this happen so quickly? We barely had any time to react...There's nothing we can do now. Sleep seems like the best option at this point. I run a finger along my scar. I should treat it once we return; it's been a while since I last changed the wrappings. Hesitantly, I take a last glimpse back at the plaza before trudging after my sullen friends.

HOLY GEEZ, this took way too long. This might just be the longest chapter yet. I wasn't sure where I wanted to end this since I was considering including the whole Professor flashback scene too, but this is already really long. I apologize for the wait, I've had a lot to take care of recently. I wish I could've finished this before Christmas but oh well. Think of this as a late holiday and new year present from me. It was a lot of fun to work on the dark miracle part of the chapter! I know I skipped certain parts, like the rest of the dark miracle debriefings and before the night event, but I figured they weren't too important. Plus I wanted to get to the good stuff as soon as possible. I hope everyone's been having a great holiday break, regardless of what you celebrate or where you are. If you don't have it right now, then I hope you're doing well anyway. Drop a comment or question for next chapter's Q and A. Thanks for your patience and interest and keep those eyes on the screen for the next chapter! :)