Anthony became aware of the fact that the glow of light from the doorway of the bed chamber was too intense for a candle flame. He slammed to a halt, spinning around to stare into the room. Dominic was already inside, using a blanket to beat at the flames that leaped at the end of a massive four-poster bed.

A thin man in a nightcap cowered against the pillows, arms flailing helplessly. “Save me, save me! She tried to smother me. Tried to murder me in my own bed.”

Anthony seized a heavy quilt. Dominic grabbed the other end.

They flung it over the bedding in an attempt to smother the flames.

The killer ran through the streets, barely able to think clearly enough to follow the map in his mind. When he could not run any farther, he ducked into an alley to catch his breath. He yanked off the blond wig and the cloak and dropped both on the paving stones.

Chest heaving, he stood for a moment, trying to collect his senses and his nerve. Bloody hell, but that had been close. Much too close this time. His heart was pounding, and he knew it was not just because of the mad dash to safety. He could no longer deny the fear.

It surged through him, clouding his brain and making him want to vomit. Was this how it was for you, Zachary? Did you ever know this frantic, gut-twisting sensation?

He still could not fathom the fact that he had been so nearly caught in the act. Where had those two come from to loose that shower of fire in the street and hound him through the house, chasing him away before he could complete his business?

But he knew the answer. Miss Emeline and Miss Priscilla had lied through their pretty teeth. March and his companion had not only made significant progress in their investigations, they had identified him as a suspect.

March had set that pair to watch him tonight. They had followed him, hoping to catch him in the act.

The game was finished. March had won.

He glanced back at the little heap of clothing and the blond wig.

That was all the evidence that existed to connect him to this night’s botched business. He would leave them here. Even if someone found the items, they could not be linked to him.

Nevertheless, he dared not take any more chances. March had friends in high places.

He moved cautiously out of the alley. When he was sure that there was no one about, he broke into a run again. He had a good head start. It would take those two some time to deal with the fire and make their report to March. He needed only a few minutes, he reminded himself. He had been well-trained in his craft. He was prepared for any contingency, even failure.

He would vanish for a while, he promised himself. Perhaps he would go to Paris for a year or two. Or may hap Italy. When he returned the next time, he would come back as a gentleman. No one would recognize him, let alone connect him to the murders he had committed this summer.

The thought steadied his nerves as he fled through the moonlit night.

A short time later Anthony stood beside Dominic and peered glumly into the darkness of the back stairs. He slammed the palm of his hand against the wall.

“Damnation. We almost had him.”

“He set that fire to distract us when he realized we were about to awaken the household with the fireworks.” Dominic shoved his fingers through his hair. “He gave himself plenty of time to get away.”

“Well, one thing is for certain. He knows now that he’s been found out. He’ll no doubt have disappeared into the stews or bolted for some safe place where he thinks he can hide.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any point going back to his lodgings,”

Anthony muttered. “He won’t be fool enough to hang around now.”

“I do not look forward to informing March that we flushed out our quarry and then lost him.”

“Neither do I.” Anthony closed his fist around the ring he had discovered on the bedside table. “But it is not as though we had a great deal of choice in the matter. That damned hairdresser was willing to burn down this entire house and everyone inside in order to make good his escape.”

“Come.” Dominic turned away from the staircase. We’ve got to find March. I hope he has returned from his latest visit to the stews.”

Anthony swung around and followed him swiftly down the hall.

The killer entered his lodgings through the back door, the same way he had left a short while ago. He stood there in the deep shadows, breathing so hard that the air rasped in his lungs. The rage and fear were still pouring through him. He wanted to smash something.

“Damn him, damn him, damn him,” he chanted into the darkness.

He could not dawdle, he reminded himself. He had to move swiftly. There would be time enough for vengeance against March later. Time enough to prove that the man could be beaten.

He went into the bed chamber and shifted aside the picture on the wall. Placing the flat of his hand on a section of the wood, he pressed gently. The panel slid open on a soundless whisper of well-oiled hinges.

He opened the safe and took out the pistol, the letter, the remaining memento-mori rings, and the jewelry and money that his clients had given him in exchange for his services.

His next stop was the wardrobe. He would take only one change of clothing. He hated to leave the rest of his fine garments behind, but he could not afford to be encumbered with luggage. The tenets of his training were strict on that point. When flight was necessary, one fled with as little as possible.

He opened the door of the wardrobe and found himself looking into the face of his killer.

Before he could even react to the shock, the murderer put the pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.

Tobias held the lantern up so that the glare illuminated the back door of the hairdresser’s lodgings. Anthony and Dominic stood slightly behind him, watching tensely as he tried the knob.

“Unlocked.” Tobias handed the lantern to Dominic and took out his pistol. “I doubt if he is still here, but I do not want either of you to take chances. Stay behind me.”

“He will be miles away by now,” Anthony grumbled. “We almost had him, Tobias.”

“If he had not had the wit to set that fire, we would have caught him,” Dominic agreed.

“You did the right thing,” Tobias said. You had no choice but to deal with the blaze. Do not blame yourselves for Pierce’s escape. If you had not interfered, Sir Rupert would be dead by now. The old cook as well, I suspect.”

He opened the door so suddenly that it banged against the wall.

The lantern light slanted across the empty kitchen.

He moved warily through the small room. Anthony and Dominic followed.

“Give me the lantern,” Tobias said quietly.

Anthony handed it to him. He set it on the floor and used the toe of his boot to push it out into the narrow hall. No shadows flickered on the wall. There was no movement in the small parlor.

Tobias leaned around the corner. From here he had a clear view of the sitting room. Satisfied that it was empty, he stepped out into the hall, picked up the lantern, and, hugging the wall, went swiftly toward the door of the darkened bed chamber.

The scent of fresh death hit him before he saw the body on the floor.

“The hairdresser is still here,” he said flatly.

Dominic and Anthony came to stand beside him. They stared at the horrific scene.

“His head.” Dominic sounded odd. “His head. There’s so much blood and… and other stuff.”

“God have mercy,” Anthony whispered.

It occurred to Tobias that this was the first time either of the younger men had encountered violent death.

“Stay here, both of you,” he ordered.

He went cautiously into the room so as to avoid damaging any useful evidence. But there were no bloody footprints, no bits of fabric torn in a scuffle. No signs at all that anyone other than Pierce had been here tonight.