"So the bounder didn't even make good on his debt," John Stuart said, shaking his head in disapproval. "Well, our next step is to find the whore Trahern used for this masquerade."

"How on earth can we do that?"

The Earl of Bute smiled wickedly. "When playing at politics, my dear Hawkesworth, it is always wise to have a friend or two in the London underworld. They are little different than we are actually. They want the same things. Power and wealth. We play our games within the boundaries of the law, and they play them on the other side of the law. Both of us are equally ruthless in our manipulation of the populace, but we do so under the guise of proper society. They rely on no such niceties. Even as you and I speak, the woman we seek is being sought. She will brag to someone about her little adventurous escapade, and we shall find her, I promise you."

"Aurora has concocted a delicious revenge upon Trahern," the duke said, and then he told the earl.

John Stuart laughed aloud, then said, "What a wonderful way to rid ourselves of that obsequious little toad! By Jove, we shall do it, Hawkesworth! I know a not-too-respectable clergyman, not yet defrocked, who will perform the ceremony. I shall give you his name, for, of course, as the king's closest adviser, I must not appear to be involved in the slightest."

"Trahern will have to be quite drunk," the duke said. "Will your parson cooperate under such circumstances?"

"A gold piece and a bottle of whiskey will gain you whatever you seek from this man," the earl assured him with a laugh.

Suddenly a hidden door opened in the paneled wall, and a man stepped into the room. He was dressed respectably, but so anonymous in appearance was he that the duke thought you would not be able to pick him out of a group. The man bowed, saying in a gruff voice, "Good even', your lordship. I got what you want, and I come as quick as I could, as you say it's a matter of importance."

"Good evening to you, Mr. Wiggums. May I introduce my friend, Valerian Hawkesworth, the Duke of Farminster. Will you have a whiskey?" He was already pouring a tumblerful as he asked.

"I will, and thank ye," Mr. Wiggums replied, taking the tumbler and bolting it down. "Ye've got the finest whiskey in all of London, yer lordship, and that's no lie. I doubt even the king's whiskey is as good." He smacked his lips appreciatively, putting down the crystal with a thump.

"You are right, Mr. Wiggums, it isn't," the Earl of Bute said. "Now, what have you for me?"

"The wench you want goes by the name of Merry Maybelle. Rather fancies 'erself too, I can tell you. She ain't got no pimp, nor madam fronting for 'er, and she don't walk the streets. She's got two wee rooms in Tanners Alley, near the river. Some young lord brought 'er to London from the country a few years ago, and when he deserted 'er she was smart enough to move on to another young fellow of means. The word is she's a clever wench, and saves 'er money so she can entertain 'er gentlemen callers privately. She also sells flowers at the theater, which gives 'er a chance to flirt and spot prospective marks," Mr. Wiggums explained.

"What number in Tanners Alley?" the earl inquired.

"Third 'ouse on the left. Merry Maybelle is on the second floor, in the rear, overlooking the river. There's no way out but the way you come in, yer lordship."

"I want the girl here within the hour, Mr. Wiggums. Can you be discreet?" the earl said.

"Ain't I always, yer lordship?" the man said, and then without another word he turned about and disappeared through the hidden door, which shut silently behind him.

"We have only but to wait," the earl said pleasantly. "Do you fancy a game of cards, Hawkesworth?"

When the hidden door reopened exactly one hour later, Mr. Wiggums entered the room again, drawing a young woman with him. While Aurora was of medium height, this girl was tall, but she had dark blond hair that dressed properly might have passed for his wife's color in the right light. Her proportions, while not overlarge, were generous, and in keeping with her height. The amber eyes darting about the room, observing the two gentlemen, were intelligent.

"Please wait, Mr. Wiggums," the earl said, and then he turned his attention to the girl. "Now, Mistress Maybelle, I am far more powerful and dangerous than the gentleman who hired you for last night's performance at the Brimstone Club. Please answer my questions honestly, and no harm will come to you. There may even be a small something in it for you if you tell the truth. Do you understand?"

"Yes, m'lord," the young woman answered.

"Do you know the name of the gentleman who hired you last night?"

"Yes, m'lord, it were Lord Trahern" was the answer.

"Did he tell you why he was hiring you?" the earl said.

"Just that he was playing a trick on a lady friend of his," Maybelle responded. "I thought it was a rather odd trick, but he wasn't asking me to do anything I hadn't done before, and he promised me two gold crowns if I went along with him. He give me one when I agreed to help him, but he never give me the other when it was over," Maybelle said indignantly. "Said he would have to owe it to me! I don't give credit. If I did, I'd be in the street!"

Valerian Hawkesworth swallowed back a laugh and saw from the look on John Stuart's face that he, too, was struggling manfully with his own amusement, but to laugh would have offended the woman before them, who in her own way was quite ethical.

"Did Lord Trahern give you a gown to wear?" the earl continued on with his gentle interrogation.

"Oh, yes!" Maybelle said enthusiastically. "I were real upset he made me auction it off piece by piece. It were by far the prettiest gown I ever wore. I'd have taken it off, if he asked, without selling it," she said mournfully.

"Did you know any of the gentlemen involved other than Lord Trahern?" John Stuart questioned the girl further.

"Two of them, but I never spoke except at the end to thank the gentlemen nicely as Lord Trahern had instructed me," she told him.

"Which two?"

"Lord Shelley and Sir Roger Andrews, and I seen Lord Bolton once at a party I was invited to, but I was never introduced formal-like," Maybelle explained.

"Did Shelley or Andrews recognize you?" the earl queried.

"Sir Roger might have," she replied. "He kept looking at me real close, over and over, while I was there. It really began to make me nervous, I can tell you," Maybelle said.

"Sit down, Mistress Maybelle," the earl told the girl. Then he turned to Mr. Wiggums. "Do you know Sir Roger Andrews?"

"Aye, m'lord, I do. I've lent 'im a wee bit of coin on occasion. 'E always pays on time. A real gentleman, 'e is."

"Fetch him!" the earl snapped, and Mr. Wiggums was quickly gone.

"Will you have something to drink while we wait, Mistress Maybelle?" the earl inquired solicitously.

"Wouldn't mind a tad of something" was the reply.

"Whiskey or sherry?" he asked.

"Whiskey, sir," she said.

"Valerian?"

The duke shook his head.

The earl, to be polite, joined his female guest in liquid refreshment, and they sat quietly awaiting the arrival of Sir Roger. When he arrived, coming through the hidden door with Mr. Wiggums, the young peer's jaw dropped, recognizing both the earl and the duke. He bowed politely, and then his eye went to Maybelle.

"So it was you last night!" he said. "I thought so! And Trahern, that outsider, insisting that it was the Duchess of F. Your pardon, my lord! I meant no offense."

"Which is why we are here, Andrews," the earl said. "A lady's reputation is at stake, as is her family's good name. You are certain it was not the lady Trahern insists it was?"

"Good Lord, no! At first, of course, I didn't know, and then I wasn't certain, but then this morning I woke up and knew it was Maybelle. She wears this violet perfume, and I don't know any other lady who does; and she's got this heart-shaped birthmark on her left breast, just above the nipple. Not another one like it in the world, I'm quite certain!"

"Do you think any of the other men involved know who it was, Andrews?" the earl asked him.

"Lord Shelley was certain it wasn't the duchess, despite Trahern. He said her hair wasn't that color, and her perfume was entirely different, more like country air, and less exotic. Shelley said he danced with the duchess at several balls, and her eyes are blue, not brown like Maybelle's here. We couldn't figure out Trahern's game, but we surely did have a good time."

Maybelle giggled coyly. "Why don't you come and see me, then, Sir Roger? Number three, Tanners Alley, second floor rear."

The young man grinned back at her.

"You will sign a statement to that effect, Andrews?" the earl said quietly. "And you, Mistress Maybelle, if we write down your story, will you put your mark to it?"

"I can sign me name," Maybelle said proudly.

"Excellent, my dear," the Earl of Bute replied with a smile. Then he reached out and drew upon the bellpull. A moment later a young man entered the room. "Franklyn, I would like you to take down several statements. Please get your writing box."

The statements were drawn up, and read over by both Sir Roger Andrews and Maybelle. Both signed without hesitation. Mr. Wig-gums had been dispatched to fetch lords Shelley and Bolton. Sir Roger and the girl were told to be seated and remain quiet. They sat on a far and slightly darkened side of the room. Lord Shelley arrived first, explaining that- Mr. Wiggums had said he was wanted by the Earl of Bute over at St. James's Palace. One quick look around the chamber at its other occupants, and he knew immediately why he had been sent for.