“I suggest you start at the beginning and tell us all,” Emeline said.

Lavinia waved a hand at Tobias. “You may do the honors, sir. I believe I require more sherry.”

Tobias held out his own glass for a refill. Then he launched into an account of events at the Beaumont estate.

She listened carefully while she splashed sherry into the two glasses and reseated herself. To her relief, Tobias left out a few particulars, such as why she had come to be sneaking about in the castle hallways so late at night.

When he finished, Anthony and Emeline were both bubbling with questions, comments, and suggestions.

“Time is plainly of the essence here,” Anthony said. You will need our help on this case.”

“Yes.” Tobias’s hand tightened around his glass. “We will, indeed, require some assistance.”

“We made some plans during the trip back to London,” Lavinia said. She picked up the small notebook she had put on the table a few minutes earlier and flipped it open. There are several lines of inquiry to be pursued. The memento-mori ring we found in Fullerton’s bed chamber appears to be old. There is a possibility that the killer purchased it or stole it from one of the antiquities shops.”

Emeline absently spun the globe beneath one hand and looked thoughtful. “It could also have been pawned and sold by a jeweler.”

Tobias nodded. “Quite true, although it does not appear to be the sort of ring a jeweler would want to purchase.”

“There is not a lot of demand for memento-mori rings these days,”

“Lavinia put in. They are not nearly so fashionable as they once were.”

“It is a clue,” Tobias added. “We cannot afford to ignore it.”

Anthony looked at him. “Emeline and I are to interview shopkeepers and jewelers who might know something about the ring, I assume?”

“Yes,” Tobias said. There is also the matter of the wig.”

“A blond wig.” Emeline considered briefly. “Not at all in the current mode.”

“We believe that may be precisely the point,” Lavinia said. The killer wanted to be certain that, if he was seen, the only thing anyone would recall clearly was a woman’s blond hair. Oh, and one more point. Although Tobias is certain the killer is a man, I am reserving judgment.”

Anthony looked at Tobias, brows elevated inquiringly.

“My intuition tells me that we are dealing with a man,” Tobias said. “But Lavinia has a point. We cannot rule out the possibility that this new Memento-Mori Man is actually a woman.”

“Very well.” Anthony straightened away from the desk. “Emeline and I will see what we can learn on the subject of blond wigs and missing memento-mori rings.”

“The first step is to draw up a list of wig shops and antiquities dealers who specialize in old rings,” Emeline said.

Tobias frowned. “Have a care when you ask your questions. We are dealing with a killer who has openly challenged me. I fear that he is playing a vicious chess game, just as Zachary Elland once did.

“I want to ensure that his attention remains focused on me. I do not want this villain to take an interest in either of you. Understood?”

“Do not concern yourself, sir,” Emeline said quickly. “Anthony and I will be extremely discreet in our inquiries.” She smiled. “It is the motto of our little agency, is it not? Discretion assured.”

“What do you and Mrs. Lake plan to do while we are investigating the ring and the wig?” Anthony asked.

Tobias looked at Lavinia. “Our first goal is to find out who benefited most from Fullerton’s death.”

“Of course.” Emeline smiled. “I expect that will be quite straight forward. Just look to the heir, as you are so fond of saying, Mr. March.”

Lavinia tapped her notebook against the arm of the chair. “Our second objective may be far more complicated. We wish to discover whether or not there have been any other similar deaths in recent months and, if so, who profited from them.”

“The Memento-Mori Man prided himself on his professional approach to his business.” Tobias leaned his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes. “Elland did not kill at random. With the exception of his work as a spy, each murder involved a financial transaction.”

Tobias and Anthony left an hour later, after having demolished an entire leek-and-potato pie, a large wedge of cheese, a goodly portion of pickled salmon, most of a loaf of bread, and a number of small tarts.

“Mr. March and Mr. Sinclair are certainly blessed with hearty appetites,” Mrs. Chilton said with an air of satisfaction as she cleared away the empty dishes. “A sign of a healthy constitution in a man, I always say.”

“I don’t know how any household can afford to feed two such healthy constitutions day in and day out,” Lavinia muttered. “I do hope they will not get into the habit of dropping by for dinner or supper. It is expensive enough as it is to feed Mr. March his breakfast every morning, to say nothing of those days when he is accompanied by Anthony. I vow, if they both dined with us for every meal they would soon eat us out of house and home.”

“Rubbish.” Emeline picked up her teacup and wrinkled her nose.

“It is not that bad and well you know it. Really, Lavinia, you do tend to exaggerate whenever you are discussing Mr. March’s little eccentricities and small foibles.”

“You call that appetite a little eccentricity?” Lavinia swept out a hand to indicate the few crumbs that remained on the plates. “For heaven’s sake, I do believe that Tobias ate every single one of Mrs. Chilton’s currant tarts.”

Mrs. Chilton shook her head and hoisted the tray. “Expect he’ll be asking me to go out for more currants this week. Mr. March’s taste for currants seems to know no bounds.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that.” Lavinia removed her low half boots and slid her stocking-clad feet into a pair of comfortable slippers.

“Indeed, he consumes them as though he believes them to be some sort of invigorating tonic.”

Emeline abruptly sputtered and coughed. “Sorry,” she mumbled into a napkin. “Difficulty swallowing the tea.”

Mrs. Chilton made an odd noise and hurried out the door.

One of these days, Lavinia thought, she would discover what it was about currants that created such an effect on everyone else in the household.

“I vow, I am exhausted,” she said. “Vale’s carriage had excellent springs and was quite comfortable; nevertheless, it was a very long trip back from Beaumont Castle. I believe I shall go to bed early tonight. Tomorrow will be an extremely busy day.”

“Emeline watched her closely for a moment and then slowly put down her cup. Were you enjoying the house party before the dreadful events occurred?”

“Oh, yes. With the exception of a rather upsetting episode involving a change of rooms, it was all quite festive. I was looking forward to the rest of the activities. That is, until I discovered Cleopatra in Tobias’s bed chamber.”

Emeline stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“Our new client, Aspasia Gray, came dressed as Cleopatra for the evening.”

“I understand, but what was she doing in Mr. March’s bedchamber?”

“An excellent question, one I asked myself.” Lavinia drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair. “They are old friends, as Tobias told you a while ago.”

“The sort of old friends who meet in each other’s bed chambers?”

Emeline asked, voice rising.

“Tobias assures me that the two of them never had that sort of connection.”

“I see.” Emeline was troubled. “Do you believe him?”

Lavinia glanced at her, surprised by the question. “Yes, of course.

“Tobias has his little eccentricities and small foibles, as you just pointed out, but lying outright to my face about a matter such as this is not one of them.”

Emeline’s brow cleared. She looked knowing. “The two of you do seem to have established a certain degree of trust.”