Howard composed himself. He stood, unmoving, behind his desk and watched Tobias with a stare that would have done credit to Medusa.

“You can prove none of this,” he said.

“What went wrong this time?”

“You must be mad, sir. Perhaps you should seek professional help.”

“This business with the artifact was different from the start,” Tobias said. “The decision to steal Banks’s relic was a change of pace for you. At first glance, it makes no sense. Your specialty is valuable jewelry, not antiquities. Artifacts such as the Medusa bracelet have a limited market. It certainly wouldn’t be as easy to get rid of as a pair of diamond earrings or a pearl-and-emerald necklace.”

Howard said nothing. He just stood there in the shadows, an angry snake watching for an opening.

Tobias casually picked up the aged, leather-bound book he had noticed earlier.

“I can think of only two possible reasons why you would have elected to steal the Medusa bracelet,” he continued. “The first is that you knew for certain that you could sell it to a particular collector; someone whom you had good reason to believe would pay well for it.”

“You are lost in your own fantasies, March.”

Tobias opened the cracked leather binding of the book he had taken down from the shelf and read the title page.

Discourse on Certain Secret Rituals and

Practices of the Ancients in British-Roman

Times

“There is a second possibility.” He closed the book and put it back on the shelf. “And, while I admit it lacks the merit of sound logic, in some ways it strikes me as even more likely than the notion of a commissioned theft.”

Hudson’s mouth twisted in disdain. “What is the second possibility?”

“That you are the one who has gone mad,” Tobias said softly. “The second possibility is that you actually put some credence in the legend of the Medusa bracelet. Is that why you set out to steal the damned thing? Because you convinced yourself that the Medusa head cameo could augment your own mesmeric powers?”

Hudson did not move so much as an eyelash.

“I have no notion of what you are talking about.”

Tobias motioned in the direction of the ancient book. “You stumbled across some mention of the Blue Medusa and its supposed powers, perhaps in that very volume. In any event, you became obsessed with the damned thing. You told Celeste that it would be your next acquisition, and the two of you removed to London and concocted a plan to obtain it.”

“You are a fool, March.”

“But Celeste was a woman of the world who long ago learned to look after her own interests. She no doubt sensed that this theft you now planned held only risk and no profit. Perhaps she feared that you were slipping into madness.”

“Leave Celeste out of this.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot do that. What really happened between the two of you the night she died, Hudson? At first I assumed that you killed her because she betrayed you with another man. Then I began to wonder if the murder was simply the result of a falling-out among thieves. But now I’m starting to think that you murdered her because she believed you were no longer quite sane and wanted to end the partnership.”

Howard gripped the back of his desk chair so fiercely that his knuckles whitened. “Damn your eyes, March, I did not murder Celeste.”

Tobias shrugged. “I will admit that there are still a number of unanswered questions. I haven’t yet deduced what happened to the bracelet, for instance. Obviously you don’t know where it is either. That is the real reason you hired Lavinia, isn’t it? Not to find the killer. You wanted her to find the damned bracelet.”

“You amaze me, sir.” Howard’s laugh was harsh, completely lacking in its former mellifluous tones. “I thought you had all the answers.”

“Only some of them at the moment.” Tobias started toward the door. “But rest assured, I will soon have the rest.”

“Wait, damn you. Is Lavinia aware of your wild speculations?”

“Not all of them.” Tobias opened the door. “Not yet.”

“You would do well not to tell her your crazed notions. She will never believe you. She has known me far longer than she has known you, March. I am an old friend of the family. If you force her to choose between us, she will side with me. You may depend upon it.”

“Speaking of Lavinia,” Tobias said, “this is probably as convenient an opportunity as any to give you some advice.”

“I don’t want any of your damned advice.”

“Then consider this a warning, instead. Do not think for one moment that I will allow you to use Lavinia to replace Celeste.”

“Do you believe that she is so enamored of you that she would never cast you aside in favor of me?”

“No,” Tobias said. “But I do know this much: If you were to succeed in taking Lavinia away, you may be certain that you would not live long enough to savor your victory.”

He walked out the door and closed it very gently and deliberately.

He did not pause to consider his destination. There was only one place he wanted to be at that moment. He hailed a passing hackney and ordered the coachman to take him to the little house in Claremont Lane.

His leg gave a few protesting twinges when he alighted, but he ignored them and went up the steps to bang the brass knocker.

There was no response.

He was not in the best of moods, and the silence did nothing to enhance his temper. On his way out after breakfast he had informed Mrs. Chilton that he would return this afternoon around three.

It occurred to him that lately he had begun to think of Lavinia’s little house as his home away from home. Rather like his club. He had even taken to issuing instructions to Mrs. Chilton just as he did to Whitby.

He knew that he had no right to be annoyed when those instructions were not carried out. Nevertheless, Mrs. Chilton had implied that Lavinia would be home this afternoon. Yet no one came to answer the door.

He went back down the steps into the street and studied the upstairs windows. The drapes were pulled shut. In his experience, Lavinia kept all of the household curtains open during the day. She liked the light.

A chill of unease drifted through him. It did not seem right that the house should be entirely empty at this hour. Perhaps some last-minute shopping had taken Emeline and Lavinia out, but where was Mrs. Chilton?

This was more than a little odd. He spent so much time in this house these days that he knew Mrs. Chilton’s schedule as well as he knew Whitby’s. This was not the day she took the afternoon off to see her sister.

The sense of unease darkened in him. He tried the front doorknob, expecting to find it locked.

It twisted easily in his hand.

Memories of how the door at Tredlow’s shop had opened just as smoothly yesterday chilled him.

Quietly, he let himself into the front hall and closed the door. He stood for a moment, testing the quality of the silence. It told him nothing.

He reached down into his boot and found the small knife he kept in the hidden sheath. Gripping it in his right hand, he went to the door of the parlor. The room was empty.

He continued down the hall to Lavinia’s study.

It, too, was empty.

So was the kitchen.

He suppressed the fear that threatened to claw at his insides and started up the stairs, careful to make no sound on the treads.

At the top of the staircase he paused. This was the first time he had ever been up here, he realized. He did not know his way around on this floor.

He studied the doors that opened off the hallway and recalled that Lavinia had once mentioned that her bedchamber had windows that faced the street.

He approached it cautiously, glancing into the other rooms he passed along the way. There was no sign of a disturbance, he noted with some relief, nothing to indicate that an intruder had been here.