"He's a cautious sort, yet…" Demon shook his head. "Fancy spending five years searching for something you'd only heard of from someone else's letter. And then it turns out the thing's not even still there to be found."

"He didn't know that. He's obsessed." Phyllida hugged herself. "That's the only explanation. He's mad."

"This picture that Appleby thought was in the book-he said it hadn't surfaced." Sir Jasper glanced at Lucifer. "That seem reasonable to you?"

Lucifer nodded. "The fanfare surrounding the discovery of a lost miniature by an old master would not be easy to miss. He's correct on that. I haven't heard anything."

"But if it's not in the book and hasn't been rediscovered, where is it?"

Lucifer looked at Phyllida. "You remember the item Horatio asked me to appraise-the item that brought me here?"

Phyllida stared. "You think it might be that?"

"It's the sort of thing Horatio would ask my opinion on. I'm familiar with the private collections of old masters held by various members of the aristocracy as well as the Crown. Even more to the point, it's an item he would guard very closely and tell no one else about."

"So where is it?"

"Hidden." Lucifer looked up at the sound of the frontdoor knocker. "We'll have to turn the house inside out, but first we must deal with Appleby."

Bristleford ushered Thompson and Oscar in, then approached Lucifer. As the others pulled up chairs to join the council, Bristleford murmured, "With your permission, sir, Covey, Hemmings, and I would respectfully ask to be included in any little excursion you might be planning."

Lucifer glanced into Bristleford's earnest face, then nodded. "Yes, of course. In fact, if Mrs. Hemmings can manage out there, perhaps you, Covey, and Hemmings could join us."

"Thank you, sir. I'll fetch Covey and Hemmings."

Bristleford retreated. Phyllida caught Lucifer's eye; she closed her hand over his on the desk. "They haven't yet gotten over the fact that they let someone kill Horatio."

Lucifer nodded, then turned to the others. Briskly, he outlined the situation. Oscar described the area where the smugglers met, the knoll to which the Beer gang had directed the impatient human cargo. They made their plans quickly, then they rose.

"Remember," Sir Jasper warned, "no heroics and no unnecessary violence. I don't want to have to take anyone else up for murder."

"There should be no need for any real action. There's too many of us for him to escape, and other than that knife, he'll be unarmed." Lucifer scanned the men's faces. "We'll meet at the knoll as soon as darkness falls-no one be late."

With the words "Aye" and "We'll be there-" the men departed.

Following them into the hall, Flick caught Phyllida's eye. "I wonder if I could have a word." Linking her arm in Phyllida's, Flick turned to the stairs.

Lucifer and Demon, reaching the library door, saw the loves of their lives, heads together, disappear upstairs.

"That doesn't look good," Demon said.

Lucifer grimaced. "I suppose we'd better face this like men."

His expression hardening, Demon headed for the stairs. "We can but try."

Twenty minutes later, Lucifer and Demon met at the head of the stairs. Their ladies were with them. Lucifer stared at Flick. Demon stared, equally surprised, at Phyllida. Then the cousins looked at each other.

"I won't ask if you don't," Demon offered.

Grim-faced, Lucifer nodded. "Agreed."

Neither Flick nor Phyllida appeared to hear; they led the way down the stairs, stepping easily in breeches and boots.

With Lucifer, Demon followed, his gaze shifting from his beloved's neat rear to Phyllida's shapely thighs. As they descended the last flight, he shook his head. "I'll be damned if any of our forebears ever had to deal with this."

Dodswell and Gillies were waiting, mounted, at the side of the house, both holding a pair of horses saddled-no sidesaddles, Lucifer noted. There was quite a little party gathered in the twilight, none of whom seemed to find anything remarkable in Flick's or Phyllida's attire. As they lifted their respective ladies to their saddles, then mounted alongside them, both Cynsters' hackles subsided-a little.

They set out. Lucifer kept a close eye on Phyllida; she sent him a sidelong glance. After she soared over the first fence and left him pushing to regain his position beside her, he stopped watching her and paid attention to their direction.

Crossing field after field, they headed south to the coast. Phyllida led the way-she was the only one who knew where they were going. The breeze strengthened, the salty tang increasing. A cottage appeared through the gloom, dwarfed by the huge barn behind it. Phyllida turned up the rutted track; she led them to the barn. They'd agreed to leave the horses there so as not to risk alerting Appleby.

The old farmer and his wife greeted Phyllida, clearly old friends. Dodswell returned from tethering their mounts. "Quite a few already in there-looks like Thompson with Sir Jasper and the others."

"Good." Lucifer looked around. "Oscar will walk in with the gang and ponies as usual."

Demon, too, had been scanning the woods. "How do you want to do this?"

"Strung out, single file, slowly. The meeting's not until full dark-we have time to be careful."

They were. With Phyllida in the lead, Lucifer at her shoulder, they walked quietly through the woods, silently skirted two fields, then entered the last stand of stunted trees close by the cliff's edge.

The others were there, waiting. Without words, the party from the Manor spread out, clinging to the deepening shadows under the trees almost encircling the grassy knoll. The land sloped up from the tree line to the cliff's edge and up from either side; beyond the knoll, the cliff fell away.

They settled, crouching in the shadows, the sounds of their shuffling subsumed beneath the relentless pounding of the surf on the rocks far below. The wind was strong, blowing cold in their faces. No ship would dare approach this treacherous coast with such a wind behind it.

An hour later, the storm had taken possession of the skies; darkness had fallen like a shroud across the land. Muscles had stiffened, joints were aching, yet still they waited patiently.

Then the tramp of feet reached them. Minutes later, the night shift of the Colyton Import Company arrived on the scene. They were all there-Oscar, Hugey, Marsh, and the rest. They milled about on the lower slope of the knoll, huddling against the wind.

"How long do we have to wait for this blighter?" Hugey asked for them all.

"He'd better make it soon," Oscar growled. "We got better things to do."

"I'm here," said a voice. "If it's me you're waiting for."

They all turned, peering through the darkness. Lucius Appleby staggered up from a hollow off to the side of the knoll. His clothes were disheveled. He clutched the volume of Aesop's Fables to his chest. His hair ruffled wildly in the wind. For a moment he appeared drunk, uncoordinated, then, with a visible effort, he pulled himself together. "About time you got here. I want nothing more than to leave this wretched place."

Every word stung, bitter as gall. He swayed, his gaze fixed on the supposed smugglers. He spared not a glance toward the trees. "Well?" he grumbled, voice rising. "What're we waiting for? Let's go."

He took an unsteady step toward them.

The smugglers, all except Oscar, backed away. They fanned out as they went, eyes never leaving Appleby. Then they joined with those moving forward, out from under the trees.

Appleby's eyes widened. Even in the poor light, the shock on his face as he took in the solid cordon and realized its meaning was evident. "No!"

Whirling, he scrambled up the knoll.

"Here!" Oscar remained on the knoll's lower slope. "Don't go near the edge."

Sir Jasper stepped forward. He regarded Appleby sternly. "In my capacity as magistrate, I charge you, Lucius Appleby, with three counts of murder and three of attempted murder, to all of which you stand self-confessed." He waited for a moment, then beckoned. "Come down, man-you can see there's no escape. No sense making it worse."

Book clutched to his chest, Appleby stared at him, then threw back his head and laughed maniacally. "Make it worse?" He caught his breath on a gasp and stared at Sir Jasper. "You have no idea.

"You see this?" Appleby thrust out the book, staggering back as he did so. "I killed three men to get my hands on this. Bartered my immortal soul and worse. Five long years I patiently searched, and for what? What do you think my life, my soul, would be worth?"

He wrenched open the front cover, holding it for all to see. The cover paper had been ripped away, the padding, too, exposing the blank board of the inner face. "Nothing." Appleby's voice dropped to a sobbing whisper, then abruptly rose to a shriek. "There's nothing there!" He yelled it to the skies. "Some bastard got there before me!"

Eyes wild, he flung the book at Sir Jasper, then whirled and raced onto the knoll.

"No! Don't-!" Oscar scrabbled up the slope. Thompson moved up behind his brother; Lucifer and Demon stepped forward.

Lips drawn back, Appleby turned on them. "Come and get me, then." He brandished his knife. "Who'll be first?"

He staggered wildly as he backed, grotesquely outlined against the roiling sky.

Thompson reached forward and locked a huge hand on Oscar's shoulder. "You don't understand-"

"It's you who don't understand. I'm not going to pay-not when there's nothing there" Appleby laughed wildly. "I've already paid with the last five years of my life."