Both of them had reason to wish Mrs. Gittings out of the way, at least, but did they have enough reason to kill her? And even if they did, would they have actually done it?

“Mr. Cunningham was sitting too far away,” Mrs. Decker was saying, “and I was holding his wrist, so I know he never moved from his chair.”

“And of course you didn’t kill her, Mother, so you’re a reliable witness.”

Mrs. Decker blanched. “Don’t even think that! I couldn’t possibly be a witness to anything. Your father would never allow it.”

“I only meant as far as determining who was where when Mrs. Gittings was killed,” Sarah clarified.

“No one will be a witness,” Serafina said in despair, her wondrous eyes filling with tears. “They will all say they were not there at all and that Nicola killed her. No one will help us!”

“Don’t worry,” Sarah said, taking her hand. “Mr. Malloy will find out the truth.”

But the tears began to stream down Serafina’s face. She knew Sarah was lying to be kind.

After what seemed like hours, they finally arrived at Sarah’s house. The driver helped them down, but once again, Serafina refused to allow him to carry her bag. She clutched it tightly as they climbed Sarah’s front steps.

By the time Sarah had unlocked the door and pushed it open, Catherine was already racing down the stairs to greet her. She stopped short when she saw Serafina and stared at the stranger.

“Catherine,” Sarah said, “I’ve brought a guest home. This is Miss Serafina Straface. She is going to stay with us for a few days.”

Catherine gave a polite little bob and murmured something that sounded like, “Pleased to meet you,” although Sarah couldn’t have sworn to it. She was still staring with more than polite curiosity at their guest. That was when Sarah realized that Serafina was still wearing the flowing black gown she wore for the séance. She looked like a character in a play who had wandered out of the theater and gotten lost.

Maeve was coming down the stairs at a much more dignified pace, and she also stopped to stare curiously at the stranger. Sarah introduced the two girls and watched as they eyed each other suspiciously. She could hardly wait to hear what Maeve thought of the spiritualist.

Sarah turned to her mother, who was hovering anxiously behind them. “You should go on home now, Mother. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“No!” Catherine protested, and hurried to greet Sarah’s mother, ducking around the now-forgotten guest.

Mrs. Decker leaned down to give Catherine a kiss. “I can’t stay today, my darling, but I’ll come for a visit tomorrow, I promise.”

Catherine pretended to pout, and Mrs. Decker promised a gift when she returned, and thus her departure was successfully negotiated.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” she asked Sarah before she left.

“Oh, yes, and if we need anything, we’ll let you know. Go on now. You’ll want to be home when Father gets there.”

Reluctantly, Mrs. Decker took her leave.

When the door had closed behind her, Maeve eyed Serafina up and down and said, “You’re the spiritualist.”

“What’s a spirit-ist?” Catherine asked, struggling with the unfamiliar word.

“Someone who tells people stories,” Maeve said before Sarah could think of a suitable answer.

“I like stories,” Catherine said brightly. “Will you tell me one?”

“Maybe later,” Sarah said, shooting Maeve a warning look. “Serafina is very tired, and she needs a quiet place to rest. I thought she could share your room, Maeve. Would that be all right?”

“Oh, yes,” Maeve agreed quickly, almost as if she already understood her role in the drama Sarah had set up. “I’ll take you upstairs and show you where to put your things. Let me take that for you,” she added, reaching for the bag.

“No!” Serafina said, surprising them all with her vehemence. She caught herself instantly. “I mean, that is kind of you, but I can manage. I would like to lie down for a little while, if I could. My head hurts so…”

“Would you like something to eat first?” Sarah asked.

“No, no, I could not eat at all,” the girl assured her. “I just need to rest.”

“Come on upstairs, then,” Maeve said, taking the other girl’s arm and gently leading her to the stairway.

“Is Mrs. Ellsworth here?” Sarah asked as the girls started up.

“No,” Maeve reported over her shoulder with a sly grin, “but I’m sure she’ll be here very soon.”

Mrs. Ellsworth would have noted the arrival of Mrs. Decker’s carriage and seen Serafina alighting. Wild horses couldn’t keep her from coming over to investigate.

Catherine started up the stairs after the other girls, but Sarah called her back. “Come and help me in the kitchen, sweetheart, and tell me what you and Maeve have been doing all day.”

Sarah, realizing she was famished, had made herself a sandwich and found some cookies for Catherine by the time Maeve returned.

“She’s already asleep or at least pretending to be,” Maeve reported, taking a seat opposite Sarah at the kitchen table. “Who was it who…? She glanced at Catherine, who was listening avidly to every word. “Who got sick?”

“Mrs. Gittings,” Sarah said. “She was Serafina’s… I’m not sure what the correct term would be, but she was in charge of the whole thing. It was her house and she was the one who set up the séances.”

“I figured she must’ve had somebody helping her. She’s young to be so successful, with so many rich clients and all.”

“Mrs. Gittings found her telling fortunes on street corners.”

“Did she read palms or cards?” Maeve asked with interest. Plainly, she had more than a passing knowledge of such things.

“Both, she told me. She also said she was very good at it.”

Maeve grinned. “I’m sure she was. So why is she here?”

Sarah looked at Catherine, who was eating a cookie and still listening intently to every word. “Mr. Malloy agreed with me that she would be better off here. Her fiancé, a fellow named Nicola, he’s… Well, he seems to have wandered off, and Mr. Malloy thought it would be a good idea to keep an eye on her until he turns up again.”

“Will he turn up here, do you think?”

“I doubt it. He won’t know Serafina is here,” Sarah said, “and he won’t want to show his face anyplace where he might be recognized.”

“Why won’t he want to show his face?” Catherine asked, her eyes wide with interest.

Sarah gave her a reassuring smile. “Because he’s hiding, the way you and Maeve play hide and seek sometimes. He doesn’t want anyone to find him.”

“So he’s the one?” Maeve asked cryptically.

“Serafina swears he isn’t,” Sarah replied just as cryptically. “But Mr. Malloy suspects him.”

Maeve nodded wisely.

“Is Mr. Malloy coming to visit, too?” Catherine asked.

“As a matter of fact, he is,” Sarah said. “But not until tomorrow. You’ll have lots of company tomorrow.”

Catherine clapped her hands, sending cookie crumbs flying, which made her giggle in delight.

Maeve would have asked another question, but just then, Mrs. Ellsworth knocked on the back door. Catherine let her in, and they spent a few minutes in greetings.

“I had some bread in the oven and had to wait until it was done before I could come over,” she explained, her well-lined face alight with curiosity. Sarah could imagine how impatient she must have been to get over here and find out what had happened. She was looking around, obviously expecting to see the strange woman who had arrived with Sarah in her mother’s carriage.

“Come along, Catherine,” Maeve said, taking the child by the hand. “Mrs. Ellsworth and your mama want to talk. But we have to be very quiet upstairs, so we don’t wake our guest.”

“Why is she sleeping in the daytime?” Catherine asked as they disappeared into the next room.

When the girls were gone, Mrs. Ellsworth, who had taken a seat at the kitchen table, asked, “Who on earth was that woman you brought home?”