their positions. He drew the pistol from his pocket and waited. The first man swore loudly, struggling with the lantern. When the light sputtered and flared, Tobias used it as a target. He pulled the trigger. The roar of the gun boomed in the street. The lantern shattered. The footpad yelped and dropped the light. The oil flared high as it spilled onto the paving stones. "'Ell's teeth, the bastards got a pistol." The second man sounded aggrieved. "Well, he's fired it now, 'asn't he? So it's no more use to 'im. "Some coves carry two." "Not unless they're expectin' trouble." He moved into the flickering light cast by the burning lantern oil, grinning demonically and raised his voice. "You, hidin' there in the fog. We come, to deliver a message to ye." "Won't take long," the other man said loudly "Just want to make sure ye realize it's a very serious message." "Where is he? I can't see a bloody damn thing." "Quiet. Listen, ye great, blatherin' fool." But the vehicle at the end of the street was in motion now. The rattle of wheels and the clatter of shod hooves on stones sounded very loud in the night. Tobias used the noise to cover his movements. He shrugged out of the tattered greatcoat and draped it loosely over a nearby iron railing. "'Ellfire, the bloody nightman's comin' this way," one of the footpads snarled. Not a nightman wagon, Tobias thought, moving to intercept the oncoming vehicle. Please, don't let it be a nightman wagon. Anything but that. The jiggling lamp was almost opposite him now. The figure on the box shouted and slapped the reins against the horse's rump, urging the animal into a brisker trot. Tobias grabbed a handhold as the wagon rumbled past. The foul smell of the cart's contents hit him with the force of a blow. The nightman had been hard at work going about his business of emptying privy cesspools and collecting rubbish from the households and businesses of the neighborhood. Tobias tried to hold his breath as he hauled himself aboard the moving wagon. "Couldn't you have found some other equipage?" he demanded as he dropped onto the seat. "Sorry." Anthony gave the horse another encouraging slap. "By the time your message reached me, there was very little time. I couldn't find a hackney On a night like this they're all taken." "There he is," Tobias heard one of the footpads; shout. "Over there by the railing. I see his coat." "I was forced to start out on foot." Anthony pitched his voice above the clatter of hooves. "Came across a nightman and offered him some money for the use of his vehicle. I promised to return it within the hour." "Now we've got you," came another shout from the footpads. Steps echoed on the paving stones. "What the bleedin''ell? He got away He must be on the bloody nightman's cart." A shot thundered in the night. Tobias winced. "Don't fret," Anthony said. "I'm sure you will be able to secure another coat as unfashionable as that one." A second shot thundered in the fog. The nightman's horse had had enough. This was most certainly not part of the normal routine. The beast flattened its ears, lurched forward, and broke into a canter. "He's gettin' away, I tell ye. We'll not get paid for this night's work if we don't catch him." After the footpad's words died down, Tobias said to no one in particular, "It seemed like such a simple, sensible plan. All I asked was that you secure a hackney and wait in the street outside The Gryphon, just in case there was a problem that necessitated my hurried departure." "An excellent precaution, given the nature of the neighborhood." Anthony worked the reins, playing the role of coachman with enthusiasm. "Just think what might have happened if you hadn't sent me the message to meet you here." "Do you know, for some reason, it never occurred to me that you would choose a nightman's wagon." "A man's got to work with whatever is available. You taught me that." Anthony grinned. "When I couldn't find a hackney, I was forced to make do. I thought I demonstrated initiative." " Initiative? " "Right. Where do we go now?" "First we return this splendid coach to its rightful owner and pay him for the use of it. Then we shall head straight home." "It's not that late. Don't you want to go to your club?" "The porter would never let me through the door. in case you have not noticed, we are both sorely in need of a bath." "You have a point." An hour later Tobias got out of the tub, dried himself with a towel in front of the fire, and put on his dressing gown. He went downstairs and found Anthony, also freshly scrubbed and garbed in the spare shirt and trousers he kept in his old room upstairs. "Well?" Anthony lounged in a chair, feet stretched out to the hearth. He did not turn his head when Tobias entered the room. "Let's have it. Do you think they were genuine footpads? " "No. They said something about having been paid to deliver a message." Tobias shoved his hands into the pockets of the dressing gown. "A warning?" "Apparently." Anthony tilted his head slightly. "From someone who does not want you making any further inquiries?" "I did not hang about long enough to ask. It's possible the message was from someone who wants me to cease my investigation. But there is another suspect." Anthony gave him a knowing look. "Pornfrey?" "I didn't put much credence in Crackenburne's warning about him. But he may have been correct when he told me that Pornfrey might seek revenge for what happened at the theater." Anthony thought about that for a time. "Makes sense. Pornfrey's not the sort to do things in an honorable fashion." He paused. "Will you inform Mrs. Lake about what happened tonight?" "Bloody hell, what do you take me for? A lunatic? Of course I'm not going to inform her about this evening's adventure." Anthony nodded. "I thought you might say that. Naturally you wish to keep her in the dark because you do not want to make her overanxious for your safety." "That's got nothing to do with it," Tobias said with feeling. "I'm not going to tell her about the encounter with those two men because I am quite certain she would use the occasion to read me a lengthy lecture." Anthony did not bother to conceal his amusement. "Rather like the one you read her when you discovered that she had gone off to Huggett's disguised as a scrubwoman and got into a bit of a scrape? " "Precisely. it strikes me that it would be extremely unpleasant to be on the receiving end of that sort of tongue-lashing." Lavinia was halfway through breakfast when she heard Tobias in the hall. "Don't bother, Mrs. Chilton. I know my way aroun&the place. I can announce myself" Emeline picked up the butter knife, smiling. "It would appear we have an early visitor." "He has certainly given himself the run of our house, has he not?" Lavinia forked up a mouthful of eggs. "What the devil can he want at this hour? If he thinks I'll listen to another lecture on how I must not make a move without informing him, he can think again." "Calm yourself." "It is impossible to be calm where Mr. March is involved. He has a talent for roiling the waters." Lavinia stopped munching as a thought struck her. "Good heavens, I wonder if something terrible has happened?" "Nonsense. Mr. March sounds quite fit and in excellent health." "I meant, I wonder if something terrible has happened regarding our investigation." "I'm certain he would have'sent word if that had been the case." "Do not depend on it," Lavinia said darkly. "As I pointed out in Italy, Mr. March plays a deep game." The door opened. Tobias strode into the breakfast room, filling the small, cozy space with the energy and force of his masculine presence. Lavinia swallowed her eggs very quickly and tried to ignore the little thrill of awareness ruffling her nerves. What was it about him that sent these little chills of excitement through her? she wondered, not for the first time. He was not a big man. No one would describe him as handsome. He rarely bothered to employ the refined manners one expected of a gentleman, and he clearly needed a new tailor. On top of everything else, although he seemed to be interested in her in an earthy fashion, she was not at all sure that he liked her very much. It was not as if they shared some ethereal, metaphysical bond, she thought. There was no poetry in their association; on the contrary, it was a matter of business and a rather spectacular' sort of lust. At least it was spectacular from her point of view, she amended. She was not at all certain that it was anything out of the ordinary for Tobias. Lavinia wondered if the strange sensation she felt when she was near Tobias was an indication of an attack of nerves. It would not be the least bit surprising, she thought, given the strain she had been under lately. irritated by that possibility, she crumpled her napkin ferociously on her lap and glared at him. "What are you doing here so early, Mr. March?" His brows rose at the peremptory greeting. "Good day to you, too, Lavinia." Emeline made a face. "Pay no attention to her, Mr. March. My aunt did not sleep well last night. Do sit down. Would you care for some coffee?" "Thank you, Miss Emeline. A cup of coffee would be very welcome." Lavinia watched the cautious way he lowered himself into a vacant chair. She scowled. "Did you strain your leg again, Sir?" "A bit too much exercise last night." He smiled at Emeline and took the cup she had just filled for him. "No need to concern yourself." "I wasn't concerned," Lavinia assured him in lofty tones. "Merely curious. What you choose to do to and with your leg is entirely your own affair." He gave her an amused look. "I am in complete agreement with that statement, madam." Quite suddenly the memory of how his legs had slid between her own that night in the carriage flashed through her brain. She met his eyes across the table and knew with horrible certainty that he was also thinking of the passionate interlude. Fearing she was turning an embarrassing shade of pink, she hurriedly forked up some more eggs. Emeline, blithely oblivious to the undercurrents, smiled graciously at Tobias. "Did you dance last night, Sir? " "No," Tobias said. "My leg does not take well to dancing. I engaged in another form of exercise." Lavinia tightened her fingers around the fork until her knuckles whitened and wondered if Tobias had been with another woman last night. "I have a busy day planned," she said brusquely. "Perhaps you would be so good as to explain why you felt compelled to visit us at this extremely early hour?" "As a matter of fact, I too have plans for the day Perhaps we should compare notes." "For my part, I intend to speak to Mrs. Vaughn and ask her if she would be willing to give me her opinion of the waxworks in Huggett's upstairs gallery," Lavinia said. "Indeed." Tobias gave her a politely inquiring smile. "And just how do you intend to smuggle her into that chamber if she does agree to examine them? Will you disguise her as a scrubwoman?" His condescending attitude goaded her. "No, as a matter of fact, I have thought of another way to get into the gallery. I believe it may be possible to bribe the young man who sells the tickets." "You're serious about this, aren't you?" "Indeed, Sir. " She gave him a bright little smile. He set the coffee cup down hard onto the saucer. "Damnation, Lavinia, you know very well I don't want you going into that gallery alone." "I won't be alone. I will be accompanied by Mrs. Vaughn." She paused delicately. "You are invited to join us, if you wish." " Thank you, " he said dryly " I accept. " There was a short silence. Tobias reached across the table and helped himself to a slice of toast. Lavinia caught a flash of white teeth when he took a bite. "You have not said why you came here this morning," she reminded him crisply. He munched thoughtfully. "Came by to see if you would like to accompany me while I make inquiries about a woman named SallyJohnson." "Who is Sally Johnson? "Neville's most recent mistress. She disappeared the day before yesterday" "I don't understand." He had her attention now, however. "Do you think there is some connection to our investigation?" "I cannot say yet." Tobias's eyes were shadowed. "But I have got a very nasty feeling that there may be a link." "I see." Lavinia thawed slightly. "it was good of you to stop here this morning to inform me of your plans and to ask me to accompany you - " "As opposed to the secretive manner in which you handled your inquiries at Huggett's yesterday, do you mean?" Tobias nodded. "Indeed. But then, perhaps I take our agreement to work as partners more to heart than you do." "Not bloody likely." She tapped the tines of her fork against the edge of the plate. "What is this all about, Tobias? Why are you asking me to join you today?" He swallowed another bite of toast and fixed her with a steady look. "Because if I am so fortunate as to find Sally, I will wish to speak with her. I have no doubt but that she will be more forthcoming with a woman than with a man." "I knew it." Bleak satisfaction settled in the pit of her stomach. "You came here this morning not because you wished to work -as partners but because you need me to help you conduct your own inquiries. What do you expect me to do? Put Sally into a mesmeric trance and coax her to speak freely?" "Must you always question my motives?" "Where you are concerned, sir, I prefer to proceed with utmost caution." He smiled faintly, eyes gleaming. "Not always, Lavinia. I have known you to make one or two exceptions to that rule."
he house was a narrow structure with two floors aboveground and kitchens below. The neighborhood was not the best, Lavinia thought, but it was clear of the stews. it had not taken long to determine that SallyJohnson was not at home. Tobias had come prepared for that eventuality. She stood with him in the tiny front area below street level and watched him insert the end of a metal tool between the kitchen door and its frame. "Neville appears to have been only moderately generous to Sally," she observed. "This is certainly not the grandest of houses." Wood and iron groaned as Tobias applied judicious force to the bar. "When you consider that Neville took her out of a brothel, this place no doubt looked like a mansion to her," he said. "Yes, I suppose that's true." The door popped open. Lavinia wrapped her cloak more securely around herself and peered into the darkened hallway "I do hope we will not stumble across another body. I have had quite enough of corpses." Tobias led the way into the house. "If Sally has met with the same fate as her two predecessors, her body will likely be found.in the river, not here." Lavinia shuddered and followed him across the threshold. "It makes no sense. Why would your client murder his mistresses?" "There is obviously no reasonable answer to such a question." "Even if he did dispatch the women, what does it have to do with the death threat that was sent to Mrs. Dove or the Blue Chamber?" "I cannot say yet. Maybe nothing. Maybe a great deal." Lavinia came to a halt in the center of the kitchen, wrinkling her nose at the scent of rotting meat. "You do realize what you are saying? That your client may be a liar and a murderer." "I told you, all clients lie." Tobias opened a vegetable basket and glanced inside. "That is one of the many reasons why it is wise to obtain an advance on one's fees when one accepts a commission." "I shall remember that in future." She opened a cupboard and peered inside. "But you must have some theory as to why Neville would be in the habit of murdering his mistresses." "One possibility is that he is quite insane." She shuddered. "Yes." "But there is another possible motive." Tobias dropped the lid of the basket and looked at her. "A man who keeps a woman tucked away in a little house such as this does so because he wishes to spend a fair amount of time in her company." Lavinia made a face. "Probably a good deal more time than he spends in the company of his wife." "Precisely." Tobias slanted her an enigmatic glance. "Given that most marriages in the ton are made for reasons of money and social connections, it's hardly surprising for a man to discover that his relationship with his mistress is far more intimate in many ways than the one he has with his wife." His point finally struck home. Lavinia swung around, frowning. "Do you really believe that when Neville tires of his mistresses he murders them because he fears they know too much about him? What sort of secrets does he possess that would make him kill three women in order to ensure their silence?" "I will be truthful with you." Tobias closed a drawer and started up the stairs leading to the main floor of the house. "I do not know what to think at the moment. I only know that at least two and quite possibly three women with whom Neville has enjoyed a very close connection during the past two years are dead. Supposedly by their own hand." "Suicide." Lavinia glanced uneasily around the kitchen and hurried after him. "We do not know for certain that Sally Johnson followed the other two into the river." Tobias reached the hall and disappeared into the parlor. "I think that, under the circumstances, we must assume the worst." Lavinia left him to the ground floor. She continued on up the narrow staircase and emerged in a small hall. It required only about two minutes inside Sally's bedchamber to conclude that Tobias was wrong on one point. She whirled and rushed back to the top of the stairs. " Tobias. " He appeared in the hall below and looked up at her. "What is it? " "I do not know what happened to Sally, but I can tell you one thing for certain. She packed up her things before she disappeared. The wardrobe is empty and there are no trunks under the bed." Tobias mounted the steps without comment and came down the hall to where she stood. She stepped aside to let him move past her into the bedchamber. When she walked into the room behind him, she found him gazing at the interior of the empty wardrobe. "It's possible that someone who knew her and was aware she was missing came here and stole her possessions," he said quietly. "It would not surprise me to learn that Sally's friends are nothing if not opportunists." Lavinia shook her head. "If a thief had come here, he or she would most likely have left the chamber in a state of disarray Everything is too neat. Whoever packed Sally's things knew the room well." Tobias studied the furnishings with a considering look. "Neville would have known this chamber intimately. Perhaps he wished to conceal some evidence of murder." Lavinia went to the washstand and glanced into the large bowl. "But if that was the case, surely he would have got rid of this bloodstained cloth and the water in this basin." "What the devil?" Tobias crossed the room in three strides and looked at the dark stains on the cloth and the reddish brown wa- ter. "I wonder if he killed her here and then tried to clean the blood off his hands." "There is no sign of blood anywhere else in the room. Everything is quite neat and tidy." Lavinia hesitated, thinking. "There is another possibility, Tobias." "What is it?" "Perhaps there was an attempt made on Sally's life. But what if she survived it? She might have returned to her house, washed her wound, packed her belongings, and then disappeared." "Gone into hiding, do you mean?" "Yes." He surveyed the room. "You're right about one thing. There is no sign of a struggle in this chamber." "Which only makes sense if she was attacked somewhere else." Warming to her theory, Lavinia went quickly toward the door. "We must speak with the neighbors. Perhaps one of them saw Sally return home and leave again." Tobias shook his head. "A waste of time. My informant assured me no one has seen Sally since she vanished." "Perhaps your informant did not speak to everyone in the neighborhood. It is often necessary to be extremely thorough about this sort of thing." 'Jack is a thorough man." Lavinia went toward the stairs. "I know you will find this difficult to credit, Tobias. But men do not always think of everything." To her surprise, he did not quarrel with that. He followed her back down the stairs, and they left the house through the kitchen door. Lavinia halted on the street and contemplated the two rows of small houses. The neighborhood was quiet at this hour. The only person in sight was an old woman dressed in a cloak. She carried a basket full of flowers on her arm. She did not look at Lavinia and Tobias when she trudged past. Her attention was on a conversation she appeared to be conducting with an invisible companion. "The roses are too red," she mumbled. "I tell ye, the roses are too bloody red. Red as blood, they are, red as blood. Bloody red. Can't sell roses that red. Makes people nervous. Can't sell them, I tell ye. . . ." The poor woman was quite mad, Lavinia thought. There were many like her on the streets of London. "A candidate for Bedlam," Tobias said quietly when the flower seller was out of earshot. "Perhaps. On the other hand, she likely does not go around murdering people the way your client apparently does." "An excellent point. I wonder what that says about Neville's state of mind?" "Perhaps only that he is able to disguise his insanity better than that poor woman can hide hers." Tobias's jaw tightened. "I must tell you, Neville has always appeared quite sane to me." "Which only makes him all the more fearsome, does it not?" "Perhaps. It occurs to me that we have begun to speak of him as if we are quite certain he murdered these women," Tobias said. "But in fact we do not yet know that." "You are right. We are rushing ahead of ourselves." Lavinia studied the array of front doors. "The housekeepers And maids are our most likely source of information. I trust you brought a goodly number of coins with you." "Why is it that I am always the one who must produce the money when it is required in this investigation?" Lavinia walked briskly toward the first of the kitchen doors. "You can put it on your client's bill." "It appears increasingly likely that my client will prove to be one of the villains in this affair. If that is the case, it may be extremely difficult to collect my fee from him. We may have to put these sorts of miscellaneous expenses on your client's bill." "Do stop grumbling, Tobias." Lavinia went down the steps. "It distracts me." He stayed on the walkway, watching her. "One point before you knock. Try not to make it obvious that you are willing to pay for information unless you feel certain you will gain something useful. Otherwise, we shall likely be out of coins before we reach the end of the block and have nothing useful to show for it." "I have had some experience with bargaining, if you will recall, sir." She raised the knocker and dropped it smartly. The maid who responded was willing enough to gossip about the woman across the street who had been in the habit of entertaining a gentleman at night. But she had not seen her in two days. Lavinia got the same results at the next door and the next. "This is hopeless," she declared forty minutes later, after talking to the last maid in the last house on the street. "No one saw Sally, yet I am convinced she came back long enough to tend her wound and pack." "She may not have been the one who came back." Tobias took Lavinia's arm and steered her along the street toward Sally's small house. "Perhaps it was Neville who collected her belongings so it would appear that she had gone on a journey." "Nonsense. If he had wished to make it appear that she had left for the country, he would have removed the food from the kitchen. No woman closing up a house for an extended period of time would leave meat and vegetables to rot." "Neville is a man of means. He has always had servants and housekeepers about to see to the running of his household. He has probably not entered a kitchen for the last twenty years." She pondered that. "You may be right. But I still think it was Sally who came home that night." He tightened his grip on her arm. "Have you concocted your version of events because you do not want to imagine Sally dead?" "Of course." "You do not even know the woman," Tobias pointed out. "She's a prostitute who, from all accounts, made her living in a brothel before she managed to attract Neville's attention." "What does that have to do with it?" The corner of his mouth twisted slightly "Nothing at all, Lavinia," he said very softly "Nothing at all." Absently she watched the mad flower seller. The old woman had paused in front of Sally's small house. The conversation with her invisible companion had grown more heated. "Cannot sell roses that red, I tell ye. There's no selling the ones that are blood red. No one wants 'em, ye see. . . ." Lavinia stopped suddenly, forcing Tobias to halt. "The flower seller," she whispered. He glanced at the old woman. "What of her?" "No one wants the bloody roses ...... "Look at her cloak," Lavinia said. "It is very fine, is it not? Yet she is obviously a poor woman." Tobias shrugged. "Someone no doubt took pity on her and gave her the cloak." "Wait here." Lavinia freed her arm from his grasp. "I want to speak with her." "What good will that do?" he muttered behind her. "She's mad." Lavinia ignored him. She walked slowly toward the flower seller, not wanting to alarm the old woman. "Good day to you," she said gently The flower seller started and then glared at Lavinia, as if she objected to having her one-sided conversation interrupted. "Only got bloody roses for sale today," she announced. "No one wants blood-red roses." "Did you sell roses to the woman who lived in this house?" Lavinia asked. "No one wants bloody roses." How did one conduct a conversation with a crazed flower seller? Lavinia wondered. Mad as she might be, however, the old woman had somehow managed to keep herself from being dragged off to Bedlam. That implied she was capable of making a living selling her flowers. Which, in turn, meant that she possessed some rudimentary bargaining ability Lavinia jingled some of the coins Tobias had given her. "I would like to purchase your bloody roses," she said. "No." The woman gripped her flower basket very tightly "No one wants 'em." "I do." Lavinia held out the coins. "No one wants to buy bloody roses." A crafty gleam appeared in the woman's eyes. "I know what ye want." "You do?" "Yer after me new cloak, aren't ye? Ye don't want the red roses. No one wants bloody roses. Ye want me bloody cloak." "Your new cloak is very lovely" "Hardly any blood on it at all." The flower seller smiled proudly, displaying a quantity of missing teeth. "Just a bit on the hood." Dear heaven, Lavinia thought. Stay calm. Do not con se her with Ifu too many questions. Just get the cloak from her "There's no blood on my cloak," she said very carefully "Why don't we trade?" "Oh ho, so ye want to trade, eh? Well, now, that's mighty interestin'. She didn't want it because of the blood, ye see. No one wants bloody roses, either." "I want them." "She used to buy me roses." The flower seller gazed down into her basket. "But she didn't want 'em that night. It was the blood, y'see. Told me she barely escaped with her life." Lavinia's pulse raced. "She escaped?" "Aye." The flower seller grinned. "But she's afraid now. She's hiding. Wanted me old cloak. No blood on it, y'see." Lavinia reached up and unfastened her own cloak. She swung it off her shoulders and held it out to the woman together with the coins. "I will give you this excellent cloak plus these coins for your cloak." The flower seller squinted warily at the garment Lavinia held. "Looks old." "I assure you, it is still quite serviceable." The madwoman cocked her head. Then she snatched the cloak from Lavinia's hand. "Let's have a good look at what yer offerin', dearie." "There's no blood on it," Lavinia said smoothly. "Not a single drop." "That may be as may be." The woman shook out the cloak and reversed it so she could view the inside of the cloth. "Aha. Appears to be a stain of some sort here." She peered closely "Looks like someone tried to scrub it out." Lavinia heard a smothered sound that might have been laughter coming from Tobias's direction. She was careful not to look at him. "Hardly noticeable," she said firmly "I noticed it." "That small stain on my cloak is a good deal less objectionable than the bloodstains on your cloak," Lavinia said through her teeth. "Are you interested in trading or not?" The flower
seller's wrinkled face tightened with scorn. "D'ye think I'm completely mad, dearie? This grand cloak I'm wearin' is worth a good bit more than yer offerin' and that's a fact." Lavinia took a breath and tried not to show her desperation. "What else do you want?" The flower seller cackled. "Yer cloak, the coins, and yer pretty half boots will do." "My half boots?" Automatically, Lavinia glanced down at them. "But I need them to walk home." "Don't fret, dearie, I'll let ye have me old ones. No blood on lem at all. None at all. Not like the roses." The spark of crafty awareness faded from the madwoman's eyes. The dreamy fog rolled back. "No one wants to buy any roses with blood on 'em, y'see." "I have reconsidered my diagnosis." Tobias assisted Lavinia up into the hackney. "I am no longer convinced the flower seller is entirely mad. On the contrary, I believe you may have met your match when it comes to the business of bargaining." "I'm glad that you are amused." Lavinia dropped down onto the seat and morosely examined the battered old shoes she wore. There were holes in the soles and the stitching was gone at several points. "Those half boots were nearly new." "You are not the only one who came out on the bad end of the shrewd bargain you made." Tobias hauled himself up into the cab and shut the door. "Was it necessary to give her so many of my coins? " "I decided that since I was losing both my cloak and my shoes, you may as well contribute." "I hope you are satisfied with your purchase." Tobias dropped onto the opposite seat and eyed the cloak in her hands. "What do you think you will learn from that garment?" "I don't know." Lavinia searched through the folds. "The flower seller was right about the bloodstains, though." She turned the hood inside out and drew in her breath. "Look. The marks of a head wound, do you think?" His eyes narrowed at the sight of the dried blood. "So it would seem. Head wounds tend to bleed freely, even when the injury is slight." "Thus my theory that Sally survived the attack and returned home to collect her things before she went into hiding may be right. "It makes sense that she exchanged cloaks with the flower seller too," Tobias said thoughtfully. "Sally came out of the stews and that is where she would return to hide. An expensive item of clothing would only serve to call unwanted attention to her in such neighborhoods." "Yes. Tobias, I do believe we are on to something here." Lavinia saw the pocket attached to the inside of the cloak and put her hand inside. Her fingers brushed a scrap of paper. "All we know now is that Neville's last mistress may have escaped the fate of the others," Tobias said. "The cloak helps to verify the conclusions you reached in her bedchamber, but it does not give us new information or lead us in a new direction." Lavinia stared at the ticket she had just removed from the pocket. "On the contrary," she whispered. "It leads us straight back to Huggett's Museum." "Rage and pain," Mrs. Vaughn said very quietly. "Pain and rage. Astonishing." The words were spoken so softly that Lavinia could barely hear them. She glanced at Tobias, standing beside her at the far end of the ill-lit gallery. He said nothing, his attention fixed intently on Mrs. Vaughn. Huggett hovered anxiously near the door, a skeleton prepared to rattle back into the shadows at the first opportunity. "Most improper," Huggett mumbled. "Never meant these statues to be viewed by respectable ladies. This gallery was intended only for gentlemen, I tell you." They all ignored him. Mrs. Vaughn moved slowly to the next waxwork tableau and paused to study the features. "I do not recognize the faces of these women, but I can tell you they are taken from life." Mrs. Vaughn hesitated. "Or,'perhaps, death." "Death masks, do you mean?" Tobias asked. "I cannot say. There are three ways to achieve a likeness in wax. The first, the one I employ, is to sculpt the features, just as one would sculpt stone or clay The second involves taking a wax impression of a living person's face and using it as a model for the sculpture. The third, of course, is to fashion a death mask." Lavinia studied the face of the woman writhing in pain or ecstasy in the nearest exhibit. "Wouldn't the features of a death mask be less, uh, animated? A corpse would surely not be so lively looking." "An expert modeler in wax could, perhaps, take the frozen features of a death mask and use the impression to re-create the image of a still-living face." "Not at all proper." Huggett wrung his bony hands. "Ladies shouldn't be here." No one glanced at him. Tobias moved closer to one of the waxworks and examined the face of one of the male figures. "What of the men in these displays? Would you say that they are modeled from life or death?" Mrs. Vaughn glanced at him with raised brows. "The features of the male figures are all taken from the same model, hadn't you noticed?" "No." Tobias looked at one of the masculine figures more closely. "I hadn't observed that." Startled, Lavinia peered up into the violently contorted features of one of the male figures. "I do believe you're right, Mrs. Vaughn." "I doubt if most of the men who come into this chamber bother to spend much time examining the faces of the masculine statues," Mrs. Vaughn said dryly. "Their attention is no doubt on other aspects of the tableaux." "But the faces of the women are distinctive." Lavinia walked to another display. "They are individuals. All five of them." "Yes," Mrs. Vaughn said. "I would say so." Lavinia looked at Tobias. He raised a brow. "The answer is no. I do not recognize any of them." She flushed and cleared her throat. "What of the male figure?" Tobias shook his head once, decisively. "I am not acquainted with him," he said. He turned abruptly to confront Huggett. "Who sold these waxworks to you?" Huggett flinched. His eyes widened in their sockets. He slithered back until he came up sharply against the door. "No one sold them to me," he said, sounding both terrified and aggrieved. "I swear it." "You got them from someone." Tobias took a step toward him. "Unless, of course, you are the sculptor?" "No." Huggett swallowed and made a stab at regaining control of his nerves. "I am no artist. I certainly did not model these figures." "What is the name of the modeler who created them?" "I do not know, sir, and that is the plain truth," Huggett whined. Tobias closed the distance between himself and Huggett. "How did you come by them?" "There is an arrangement." Huggett started to babble. "When one is ready, I receive a message to go to a certain address and fetch it." "What is the address?" "It is never the same," Huggett said. "Usually a warehouse somewhere near the river but never the same warehouse." "How do you pay for them?" Tobias asked. "That is what I am trying to explain to you, sir." Huggett cringed. "I do not pay for them. The arrangement is that I may have them free of charge provided I display them publicly." Tobias gestured toward the collection. "Which of these was the last to be delivered to you?" "That one." Huggett pointed a quivering finger at a nearby tableau. "Got a message about four months ago telling me that it was ready" Lavinia glanced at the figure of the woman frozen in some dark ecstatic horror and shuddered. "There have been no new messages from the artist?" Tobias asked. "No," Huggett said. "None." Tobias pinned him with a cold look. "If you receive any further communication from the modeler, you will send word to me immediately Do you comprehend?" "Yes, yes," Huggett squeaked. "Immediately" "I warn you, there is murder involved in this affair." "I want no part of murder," Huggett assured him. "I am merely an innocent business proprietor attempting to make a living." Lavinia exchanged a glance with Mrs. Vaughn. "You said that an artist of this caliber would want his work exhibited to the public." Mrs. Vaughn nodded. "It is only natural. Apparently this modeler is not obliged to make a profit on his creations, however." "We are looking for a person of some financial means then," Tobias said. "I would say so." Mrs. Vaughn looked thoughtful. "Only someone with another source of income could afford to create and give away such large and well-modeled works." "One last question, if you would be so kind," Lavinia said. "Of course, my dear." Mrs. Vaughn beamed. "I do not mind in the least. Indeed, this has been a most interesting experience." "Do you think the modeler who created these waxworks might be the same one who sculpted the death threat I showed you?" Mrs. Vaughn looked at the anguished face of the nearest figure. A shadow passed across her own face. "Oh, yes," she whispered. "Yes, indeed. I think it is quite possible that the artist is one and the same." Tobias leaned against one of the stone pillars supporting the roof of the artfully designed Gothic ruin and gazed out at the overgrown garden. The ruin had been constructed several years earlier. The architect had no doubt intended it to be a graceful addition to this remote region of the large park. A place for peaceful contemplation of nature's soothing essence. But this portion of the extensive grounds had never proved popular with the public. As a result the ruin and the surrounding hedge and gardens had been allowed to fall into a decline. The unchecked greenery had grown wild, creating a natural veil that shielded the ruin from the sight of anyone who might happen to wander into this isolated section of the park. Tobias had stumbled onto the shrouded ruin a long time ago. He came here sometimes when he wanted to think without any distractions. This was the first time he had brought anyone else to the place he had come to think of as his private retreat. It had stopped raining for a time, but the trees still dripped. The hackney he had managed to flag down after leaving Huggett's Museum waited on a path elsewhere in the park. At least he hoped it waited there. He did not relish the notion of walking all the way back to Lavinia's house. His leg ached today "We've got several seemingly unrelated things going on here," he said. "The deaths or disappearance of some of Neville's mistresses, the waxworks, and the rumors of war being waged for control of what is left of the Blue Chamber. They must be linked." "I agree." Lavinia stood near one of the other pillars, her arms folded. "I think the links are obvious." "Our clients." "Both of them have lied to us from the start of this affair." Tobias nodded. "Yes." "Both of them are attempting to use us for secret ends." "Evidently" She glanced at him. "The time has come, I believe, to confront them." "I suggest we start with yours.- "I was afraid you would say that." She sighed. "I do not think Mrs. Dove will be pleased. She will very likely dismiss me." Tobias straightened and took her arm. "If it is any comfort to you, I do not expect to collect any money from Neville." "I suppose I can always sell another statue to pay the rent and Mrs. Chilton's quarterly wages," Lavinia said. "One of the things I admire about you, Lavinia, is that you are never without resources." Joan Dove sat so still on the striped sofa that Lavinia decided she could have been easily mistaken for one of Mrs. Vaughn's elegantly modeled waxworks. "I beg your pardon," Joan said in the icy tones of a woman not accustomed to being questioned. "What are you implying?" Tobias said nothing. He looked at Lavinia, letting her know that he trusted her to deal with the unpleasant scene. This was her client. Lavinia met his gaze and then rose from her chair. She went to stand at one of the drawing-room windows. Her red hair was a vivid contrast to the dark green velvet drapes. "I thought the question quite straightforward," she said quietly. "I asked you if you were once involved in an affair with Lord Neville. Is he the one who seduced you and cast you aside twenty years ago?" Joan did not respond. The frozen silence emanating from her threatened to chill the entire room. "Bloody hell, Joan." Lavinia spun around, anger flaring in her eyes. "Do you not comprehend what is at stake here?, We have good reason to believe that Neville has murdered at least two of his former mistresses. Perhaps many more. The latest one may be alive, but if so, it is only due to luck." Joan said nothing. Lavinia began to pace. "We know that Sally Johnson visited Huggett's Museum shortly before her disappearance. There is a special gallery there devoted to the display of some brilliantly executed waxworks. The threat you received was crafted by an expert modeler in wax. We believe the artist who created them all is one and the same. Now, just what in the name of heaven is going on here? " "That is quite enough." Joan's mouth thinned. "You do not need to rage at me, Lavinia. I am your client, remember?" "Answer my question." Lavinia stopped in the middle of the carpet. "Did you have a liaison with Neville?" Joan hesitated. "Yes. You are correct. He was the man who seduced me all those years ago and then abandoned me." For a moment no one in the room moved or spoke. Then Lavinia exhaled deeply. "I knew it." She collapsed into the nearest chair. "I knew there had to be a connection." "I fail to see how that very old indiscretion can possibly have any bearing on this matter of murder," Joan said. Tobias looked at her. "Neville appears to be in the process of getting rid of his former mistresses. At least two women he had been intimate with in the past two years are dead. Three more are rumored to be dead, and one has gone missing." Joan frowned. "Why on earth would he kill them?" "We cannot be certain," Tobias said. "But we believe it's possible he fears they know too much about him." "What could they possibly know that would make him believe he had to murder them?" "I will be blunt, Mrs. Dove," he said. "I am almost certain that Neville was a member of a criminal organization known as the Blue Chamber. The gang was very secretive and very powerful for many years. It was controlled by a man who called himself Azure and his two lieutenants." "I see." Joan watched him without expression. "How very odd. " "The Blue Chamber began to fall apart after Azure's death several months ago. One of two lieutenants, Carlisle, died three months ago in Italy." Joan frowned. "You know this for a fact?" Tobias smiled coldly. He did not take his eyes off her face. "Yes. I am absolutely certain of his death." Joan glanced fleetingly at Lavinia. "So now there is only one member of the Blue Chamber left, and you think that man is Lord Neville." "Yes," Lavinia said. "Tobias hoped the valet's diary would provide him with proof " "But the diary was conveniently destroyed before anyone could read it," Tobias said. Lavinia studied her fingertips. "It's possible that Neville killed Holton Felix, destroyed the diary, and arranged for Tobias to find it. But it's equally possible that someone else committed those acts." "Who?" Joan asked.