"Yes, of course." She reached into the pocket of her gown for her key. "What was it that caught your attention?"

"The investment opportunity that one of the spirits mentioned to the two ladies."

"I remember. But I do not think it means much. I told you, it is quite common for mediums to predict that some of their sitters will come into a surprise inheritance."

"But this struck me as an unusually precise prediction." He took the key from her hand and fitted it into the lock. "There were certain specific details, such as the fact that the man who approached them would identify himself as a friend of their deceased acquaintance."

"Yes, that's true."

"The first time we spoke you mentioned that one of the sitters at Elizabeth Delmont's last sitting received investment advice."

"Yes, you're right," she said. "And it was of a similar nature, now that you mention it. One of the spirits that Delmont summoned told Mr. McDaniel that he would soon be contacted by a gentleman who would mention the phantom's name and provide him with information concerning a lucrative investment. But what does that have to do with murder and the missing diary?"

"Perhaps nothing at all." He opened the door. "But I admit that I find it very interesting that Toller and Delmont made such similar predictions to their sitters."

She stepped into the shadowed front hall and turned to look at him. "Do you think it suggests a link between the two mediums?"

"It's possible, yes"

`But Irene Toller and Elizabeth Delmont were rivals." "Money makes for strange bedfellows. Just ask any of the husbands and wives in Society."

"That is a very cynical remark, Adam."

"I discovered long ago that one can answer a great many questions about anyone, high or low, if one first ex-amines the source of his or her income."

"An intriguing observation. That reminds me, you said you had plans for that building in Stone Street. What are you going to do with it?"

He hesitated and then decided that there was no reason not to tell her of his intentions. "I am making arrangements to turn it into a charity house for street children. It will be a place where they will be safe and well fed. They will be taught to read and write so that they can make their way in the world."

She gave him a soft, mysteriously knowing smile. "Of course. I should have guessed."

Surprised at the comment, he frowned. "How the devil could you have possibly—"

"Never mind. It's not important. Good night, Adam." "Good night, Caroline."

"I cannot wait to get back to my new chapter in the morning," she said. "I am suddenly brimming over with fresh ideas for my story."

The door closed very gently in his face.

He stood there for a moment, bemused. At a time like this, some women would be worrying about their reputations or the possibility of pregnancy. Caroline appeared to be concerned only with the plot of her novel.

He wondered if that should give him cause for alarm.

TWENTY

Shortly after nine-thirty the following morning, Caroline put down her pen and looked at the paragraph that she had just finished writing.

Lydia began to suspect that Edmund Drake was not as he appeared on the surface. The hard, unyielding exterior he presented to the world concealed not just his secrets but perhaps a certain innate nobility of soul as well. He was not the sort to reveal his true nature easily, but she had learned enough about his character in the wake of the re-cent, disturbing events to cause her to question her original assumptions.

Drake was most certainly a man of strong passions, she concluded, but those passions were held in check by a powerful will and a sense of honor that would put to shame the shallow code embraced by so many wealthy, well-born gentlemen.

Drake made his own rules, and he lived by them.

Satisfied, Caroline reached for another sheet of paper. The story was coming along nicely. The surprising twist in the character of Edmund Drake would certainly astonish her readers. Now all she needed was another startling incident with which to end the chapter and she would be finished with this week's episode.

She picked up her pen and tapped it lightly on the desktop. A runaway carriage, perhaps? No, that would be much too similar to an earlier incident. That sort of thing had to be spaced out carefully in order to create the de-sired effect.

What was needed now was a scene of thrilling passion, she decided. Something along the lines of what she had experienced in Adam's arms last night would be perfect.

The exciting memories flooded back. She indulged her-self in them once again, aware of tingling warmth in her lower body.

Yes, a passionate embrace would be just the thing to end this chapter. Inspired, she started to write.

In the shadowy light cast by the carriage lamps Lydia could see Edmund Drake's eyes glowing like emerald coals taken from some supernatural fire. He took her into his arms, crushing her against his powerful chest.

"My sweet, beautiful Lydia," he whispered. "When I am with you I cannot seem to control

"Mrs. Fordyce?"

Caroline started in surprise. Her pen slipped, marring control. She looked up quickly and saw Mrs. Plummer standing in the opening.

"Yes, what is it?" she said, trying not to let her impatience show.

"I'm sorry to disturb you while you're writing but this just came for you." Mrs. Plummer walked into the room. She held an envelope in one hand. "A lad brought it around to the kitchen door a moment ago."

"A note?" Caroline was instantly wary. "It's not from Spraggett, is it? He knows very well that the new chapter is not due until the end of the week. I vow, if he does not stop pestering me I am going to lose all patience and look for another publisher."

"No, I don't think it's from Mr. Spraggett. He always sends that young red-haired lad, Tom, when he wants to deliver a message to you. The boy who gave me this was a stranger."

Adam, Caroline thought. It had to be him. No one else had any reason to send her a message. Her pulse sparked and a pleasant sense of euphoria bubbled through her. Then it occurred to her that Adam might have dispatched the note to let her know that he had changed his mind about calling on her today.

"Thank you, Mrs. Plummer."

Snatching the envelope from the housekeeper's fingers, Caroline ripped it open.

Dear Mrs. Fordyce:

I must see you immediately. It concerns a message from the Other Side that was communicated to me last night after you left my house.

Yrs.,

I. Toller

"How curious," Caroline said, rereading the note. "It is from the medium."

"Which medium would that be, ma'am?"

"Irene Toller. The one who gave the séance that I at-tended with my, uh, friend Mr. Hardesty last night." She put the note down, rose quickly and started around the desk. "I wonder what on earth this is all about."

"Will you be going out, then, ma'am?"

"Yes. This is a very interesting turn of events. I do not want to miss the opportunity. I am going straight upstairs to change into a walking dress." She whisked through the door and then paused in the hall. "When my aunts return from their morning constitutional, please tell them that I had to pay a hasty visit to Mrs. Toller and that I shall be back in time for lunch."

"Yes, ma'am."

Caroline hurried toward the stairs and then paused again when another thought struck her. "One more thing, Mrs. Plummer. Mr. Hardesty mentioned that he would pay a call sometime today. If he arrives before I return, will you please tell him that I will be back shortly and ask him to wait?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She was forced to let two dashing hansom cabs go past be-fore a lumbering hackney presented itself. It was really most annoying not to be able to use a hansom, she thought, climbing up into the aging carriage. Not only did the de-sign, with its open front and the driver up behind, appear as though it would provide the passenger with a marvelous view, the hansoms were considerably faster and more agile in the London traffic than other vehicles.

Unfortunately, any lady, even a widow, who was seen riding in a hansom was considered to be fast in more ways than one.

Sometime later the hackney stopped in the street in front of Irene Toller's address. The house appeared just as bleak and gloomy this morning as it had the night before when it had been shrouded in fog and darkness, Caroline thought, alighting.

She was concentrating so intently on wondering why Irene Toller had sent the message that she did not immediately take note of the small cluster of people standing about in the street in front of the house. When she realized that a crowd had gathered, a trickle of alarm coursed through her. Something was very wrong here.

She caught snippets of conversation when she went up the steps.

"The villain broke into her house while she was asleep is the way I heard it," announced a woman who wore a housekeeper's apron. -

"Can't believe it happened right here in our street," a maid whispered.

"Never had any trouble like this in all the years I've lived here," a matronly-looking female declared. "This is a respectable neighborhood."

Caroline's alarm intensified. All she could think about in that dreadful moment of realization was Adam and his plan to search the premises. Had he changed his mind after he had taken her home? Had he come directly here instead of waiting until later today as he had planned?