The severed heads of three white roosters were sitting on the top step, blood mixing with the rain puddling around them. This must have been Colin’s doing.

Swallowing hard, I returned—now thoroughly soaked myself—to the cab. The driver set off at once in pursuit of Mr. Foster, who had raced out of Upper Cheyne Row and was heading for Chelsea Embankment. Once there, he hailed another cab, and proceeded west, following the Thames until we were almost upon the Houses of Parliament. There, the road moved slightly away from the riverbank. He turned into Broad Sanctuary, and alighted in front of Westminster Abbey.

Pursuing him had been particularly easy once he’d entered the cab. But now that he was back on foot, and heading into a church, it would be harder for me to remain undiscovered. I was confident in my abilities, though, as Colin had trained me in the art of following someone.

I kept my distance, counting to fifty in Greek before following him into the abbey. At first, I stayed close to the doors, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light. He was walking quickly, with purpose, through the nave towards the north transept. I started after him, watching carefully to ensure I was keeping perfect pace with him—our footsteps fell at exactly the same time. I paused, ducking behind an Elizabethan tomb as he approached Statesmen’s Aisle. The church was not crowded that afternoon, the weather having kept most people at home, and the corresponding solitude was not conducive to my current purpose. Poking my head around the stone monument, I watched as he veered back towards the center, passing the high altar.

Moving silently, I resumed my chase, but this time did not choose a course of direct pursuit. I could see he was nearing the steps that led to Henry VII’s Lady Chapel. Identifying a better vantage point for my purposes, I climbed up the short flight of stairs to the shrine of Edward the Confessor. From there, peeking around the tomb of Henry V, I could watch Mr. Foster below.

He walked along the rows of wooden seats for the members of the Order of Bath, stopping in front of the steps that led to the stalls in which the knights would sit while in chapel. He bounded up the stairs, turned to look around, no doubt confirming he was the only person within sight, then climbed onto one of the seats. Stretching, he reached to the canopy above, shoving his hand between spaces carved in the wood. He pulled something down, but I could not see what. Then, turning at the sound of voices coming from the chamber where Elizabeth I was buried, he climbed back down, straightened his jacket, and retraced his steps to the west door.

I followed, leaping into my waiting cab moments after his had pulled away. It was almost a disappointment when he reached his house and went inside.

I returned to the abbey, where I went straight to the Lady Chapel and climbed onto the same seat in the stalls Mr. Foster had. I could not, however, quite reach all the way to the opening in the carved canopy. Gripping the slender wooden post that divided the seats, I stepped onto the armrest. From here, though, the angle was difficult, but the additional height did prove helpful. I felt around as best I could, but there was nothing there.

“May I help you with something, madam?” a stern-looking priest said, bounding towards me.

“No, thank you,” I said, not moving from my perch. “Just enjoying the view.”

“Madam, would you please step down? You cannot climb in the chapels.”

“Right,” I said. “Of course. But how else is one to get a close look at these exquisite knights’ crests? I don’t suppose you have a ladder? I’m passionate about heraldic symbols.”

“Are you?” he asked, his mouth hanging open.

“Do you know much about them?”

“I don’t.”

“What a pity,” I said. “No ladder, then?”

“No, madam.”

I shook my head. “What a grave disappointment. I’d always preferred this place to St. Paul’s. Perhaps I should reevaluate.”

35

I was the last one to arrive back in Park Lane, and I had to change my dress before I could join Colin, Jeremy, and Ivy, all of whom, Davis informed me, had arrived more than an hour ago. Meg helped me dry off and pull on a Liberty gown. I drained three cups of tea in rapid succession and, beginning at last to feel warm again, I descended to the library.

“Ivy’s told us about the triumphant morning the two of you had,” Colin said.

I pulled my favorite chair close to the fire, which hadn’t been lit in weeks because of the heat. How quickly rain can change things. “She was brilliant.”

“You were,” Ivy said. “You thought of everything to say.”

“But there would have been no veracity to anything I’d said if you hadn’t supported me,” I said. “She wouldn’t have even admitted me to her house.”

“Did you collect the evidence from the Glovers’?” Colin asked.

“We did, and don’t think for a minute I’m showing it to you,” I said. “It’s obscene.”

“Do you really believe I—” He stopped, rubbed his chin. “No, there’s nothing I can say here, is there?”

“We both know—” Jeremy stopped. “We both know nothing about, well, nothing.”

Colin scowled at him.

“Right,” Jeremy said. “And even if we did know anything about those sorts of … evidence, did you call it? Even if we knew, we wouldn’t be interested in seeing it.”

“Don’t consider a career on the stage, Jeremy,” I said. “Have we heard anything more from Winifred?”

“Not that we know of,” Colin said.

“How about Mr. Foster?” Ivy asked.

“I’ve planted the necessary seeds,” I said. “I also saw Mr. Barnes and the grisly souvenir you left on his doorstep. What was it?”

“I did some research on Obeah,” Colin said. “And with Cook’s help, Jeremy and I acquired the heads of three white roosters. Leaving them at someone’s door is, apparently, a foolproof way of heaping evil upon him. We’ll see how much of a believer Mr. Barnes is.”

“They definitely had an effect on him,” I said. “But an even more striking one on Mr. Foster.” I told them of my rainy adventures.

“I can’t believe you climbed on the armrest,” Ivy said. “And claimed an interest in heraldic symbols.”

“Are you certain there was nothing more to be found?” Colin asked.

“I can’t be absolutely certain,” I said. “I felt around as best I could, but I couldn’t see what I was doing. And he may have things hidden in more than one place.”

“I’ll send some men to look into it tomorrow,” Colin said.

“Did you see Mr. Barnes at all today?” I asked him.

“No,” he said. “I had my poor roosters’ heads ready to go and in a small bag underneath my coat. Bainbridge and I called at Upper Cheyne Row only after confirming he was in his office at Westminster. The butler told me his master wasn’t at home, I thanked him, and dropped the birds on my way down the steps.”

“It was quite gruesome, Colin,” I said. “Horrible, really.”

“As it needed to be,” he said.

“I’m not sure I’ll allow myself to be embroiled in another of your plans,” Jeremy said. “I could do without the gore.”

Davis poked his head in the door. “An urgent message from Scotland Yard, sir.” He handed Colin a note that my husband opened and read in the space of a breath.

“Mrs. Harris has attacked her husband,” Colin said. “She’s been subdued and is in her house under police observation.”

Ivy went white. “Do you think she’s the murderer?”

“It certainly doesn’t look good for her.”

“Is Mr. Harris all right?” I asked.

“Apparently, she knocked him over the head with a fire poker,” he said. “He’s at home with a doctor.”

“This is horrible,” Ivy said. “And I feel like it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault in the least,” I said. “She should have restrained herself, and her husband should have had the sense to keep away from Lady Glover.”

“We knew she might be violent,” Ivy said.

“I think he’ll recover fully,” Colin said. “They haven’t even had to take him to the hospital.”

“It sounds like the old boy deserved a good whack,” Jeremy said. “He should never have left such incriminating things sitting around the house.”

“Quite,” Colin said, then frowned and looked at his watch. “I want to get over there right away and don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Let’s hope that by the time I return, this is all settled.”

“What about Lady Glover?” Ivy asked after Colin had gone. “What if Winifred’s hurt her, too?”

“I don’t think she would have,” I said. “Not after what we told her today.”

Seeing how upset Ivy was, Jeremy excused himself briefly from the room, imploring us to alert him as soon as we learned anything new. Not a quarter of an hour after he’d gone, we heard someone banging on the front door of the house. Banging on the door and screaming.

“Lady Glover!” I’d rushed into the corridor, Ivy and Jeremy right behind me. Lady Glover was soaked. Her turquoise dress, with its golden crystal beads, which had once been elegant and stylish, was covered with dirt and missing one sleeve—the one that had been found in the park. Her hair was coming down around her shoulders, twigs and leaves sticking out from it. Mud streaked her face. Despite all this, she looked almost like a much-put-upon romantic heroine.

“Emily … I didn’t know where else—” She started to step forward, but collapsed on the floor in a delicate heap.

Davis, always the master of efficiency, had her upstairs in no time. A maid drew a bath and assisted her in getting cleaned up and into one of my cotton nightgowns. I tried to persuade Lady Glover to lie down, but she refused. Instead, she wanted a wrap to throw over her shoulders and insisted on coming down to the library.