"Shall I ask him to come back?"

"No, no, you must not do anything that will cause him to take offense. This institution needs his illustrious presence. He has brought us a great deal of attention and credibility." Reed hurried around the desk. "You know how temperamental he is."

"Yes, sir." Miller waited for instructions.

Reed paused by Caroline's chair. "Mrs. Fordyce, will you excuse me for a few minutes? Elsworth can be quite difficult."

"I understand" A small, unpleasant wave of nausea roiled her stomach. Her skin went suddenly cold. "Perhaps 1 should return at some other time."

"No, please, wait here. I will be only a moment."

Reed vanished, ushering Miller ahead of him, before she could think of an excuse to leave. The door closed solidly.

Caroline sat very still for a moment, breathing deeply and hoping that her stomach would settle. She looked at the half-empty cup of cloyingly sweet, milky tea. The lines she had written the other evening after Adam had left her study came back to her. You are not yourself… I believe you may have been poisoned… Impossible, she thought. Do not let your writer's imagination run wild. Reed has no reason on earth to harm you.

Nevertheless, she was not herself. She wanted nothing more than to go home, crawl into her own bed, pull up the covers and sleep.

It took all of her strength to get out of the chair. For a few disorienting seconds she stood in the center of the room, trying to maintain her balance, trying not to be ill.

She closed her eyes against another churning twist of nausea. When the nasty sensation passed, she took a deep breath, opened her eyes and turned toward the door.

She found herself looking at a photograph. Not the one of the queen; rather another one that hung on the wall be-side the door. She had been sitting with her back to it and had not noticed it until now.

It was a picture of a young woman dressed in an elegant dress and a long white veil. Her beautiful face was set in unhappy lines, as though she was resigned to some unpleasant fate.

"Sarah Reed, I presume?" she whispered. "Were you a real medium? Did you actually reach through the veil to communicate with the Other Side?"

The veil.

There was something about the portrait..

The bride's pale hair was bound up in a style that had been fashionable a decade earlier.

Sarah Reed had evidently been blond, Caroline thought. Why was that important?

She moved closer to the photograph as though compelled. It required a great effort to concentrate on the de-tails. Sarah Reed's gown and veil were both white. That was not unusual. After the queen had chosen to wear white for her marriage to her beloved Albert, the color had become somewhat fashionable with brides. Many still preferred other colors, of course, but white was not uncommon.

She looked closer and noticed that Sarah Reed wore a brooch pinned to the bodice of her gown. It appeared to be covered in black enamel.

Dread whispered through Caroline. Her thoughts were starting to blur but somewhere in the haze she managed to summon up some of the elements that Adam had mentioned when he had described the brooch that he had found on Elizabeth Delmont's bodice. It had been enameled in black—she was quite certain of that. He had said that there was a photograph of a woman dressed in white and wearing a veil inside… A twist of blond hair had been set beneath the beveled crystal.

Dear heaven. Terror turned her blood to ice. She had to get out of here immediately.

The door of the office opened before she could take a single step.

"Mrs. Fordyce" Reed walked into the room, frowning in concern. "Are you all right?"

"No, I am ill. Please excuse me." She started forward, fighting to keep her balance. "I must go home at once" "Allow me to assist you"

Reed closed the door and came toward her, arms out-stretched.

"Don't touch me," she rasped, trying to evade his grasp. "But you are ill, Mrs. Fordyce. You need help." "No. I must leave."

But the room was spinning more violently now. A thick, murky darkness was closing in around her, leaving no solid shapes that she could use to orient herself. She tried to grab the back of a chair, missed and crumpled to her knees.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Fordyce. I will take care of you"

Reed reached down and picked her up in his arms. There was more strength in his square, stocky, broad-shouldered body than she would have imagined.

She opened her mouth to scream for help but the strange fog enveloped her completely. She found herself suddenly cast adrift in a vast, uncharted sea of nothingness, neither fully asleep nor entirely awake. A dreamworld.

She wondered if this was the Other Side.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Adam waited for his prey in the stillness and shadows of the well-furnished lodgings. He heard the key in the lock shortly before six o'clock that evening.

The door opened. Elsworth let himself into the room and made to turn up the nearest lamp.

Adam moved out of the shadows, caught him by the back of his coat and hurled him against the wall.

Elsworth grunted heavily, bounced off the paneling and landed hard on his side. He scrambled frantically to right himself.

"If you move so much as a finger, I will break it," Adam said.

Elsworth froze half-sitting, half-sprawled on the floor. "Hardesty? What the deuce is this about?"

Adam lit the lamp. "It is about two murders and a missing diary."

"Have you gone mad, sir? How dare you invade my residence like this and imply that I am in any way connected to murder?"

"I want answers, Elsworth, and I want them quickly. Tell me everything you know about the deaths of Elizabeth Delmont and Irene Toller"

"I was barely acquainted with those two frauds. I had nothing to do with their deaths and you cannot prove other-wise. Now, I advise you to leave at once or I shall summon a constable. I have an important reception and a demonstration at Wintersett House to prepare for this evening"

"If you don't tell me what I want to know, you are not only going to miss this evening's performance, I will also make certain that your career as London's most fashion-able medium comes to an end tonight."

Elsworth stared. "Are you threatening my life, sir?"

"At the moment, merely your livelihood. But that could certainly change?

"Bah" Elsworth relaxed visibly. "Do you really think that anything you say can persuade people not to believe in my powers? If so, you are a fool. People believe what they wish to believe and at the moment, most of London is pleased to believe that I am the most powerful practitioner of psychical powers who has ever lived."

"You misunderstand me, Elsworth. I do not intend to ex-pose you as a fraudulent practitioner, but rather as a financial fraud." Adam picked up the envelope he had placed on a table a short time before. He opened it, turned it upside down and let the Drexford Co. stock certificates fall to the carpet.

Elsworth glanced uneasily at the documents. "Where did you get those?"

"Out of the bottom drawer of your desk."

"See here, I don't know what makes you think that I know anything about those certificates."

"The printer who arranged to produce those for you is an old and trusted acquaintance of mine," Adam said "He is also the cautious sort. He had you followed after the two of you did business together. He likes to know as much as possible about his clients, you see. It provides him with a measure of security."

Elsworth grimaced. "That old villain. Should have known he would pull a trick like that. Well, it won't do you any good. He is hardly likely to testify against me. He's got too many secrets of his own to hide."

"I don't need his testimony to destroy your calmer. You do not appear to be aware of the fact that I have some powers of my own."

Elsworth eyed him warily. "What are you talking about?"

"One word from me concerning the true nature of your business operations, Elsworth, and every newspaper in the city will take great delight in exposing the financial scandal you perpetrated with the help of two murdered mediums."

"You have no proof," Elsworth said weakly.

"You know as well as I do that evidence and proof are unimportant trifles when it comes to a press sensation. But, to be frank, exposure in the papers should be the least of your concerns."

"What do you mean?"

"I would remind you of my position in the Polite World," Adam said gently. "I not only control a Fortune, I am Wilson Grendon's heir and I have a very close connection to the Earl of Southwood. I promise you that before I am finished, all the important doors in Society that are presently open to you will close so suddenly and with such force that you will be able to hear the echoes all the way across England.

Elsworth gave that statement about two seconds' thought. "What, precisely, do you want to know?" he asked wearily.

Adam picked up the diary that he had found hidden beneath the bed. "As a matter of curiosity, where did you find this? I searched Elizabeth Delmont's house very carefully that night."

"I was more closely acquainted with her than you were, sir. Delmont actually considered herself a professional colleague of mine. When I expressed some passing interest in her tricks and devices, she very proudly gave me a tour of her secrets" Elsworth gave a gentlemanly snort. "She wanted to impress me, and I will admit she was somewhat more clever than many of her competitors. She had in-stalled a number of concealed cupboards and cabinets. One of them was behind the wall sconce in the séance room. I found the diary in it"