After another series of clicks, pings and chimes reverberated through the room, Irene looked across the table at Caroline.

"Your Jeremy says to tell you that he loves you and that he is waiting for you on the Other Side with open arms. Someday you will be together again and know at last the happiness that was denied you when he was taken away"

"I see," Caroline said in an odd voice.

A bell sounded.

Irene shuddered. Her hands trembled on the table. "The spirit says that he is unable to communicate anymore to-night. He will try again in the near future." She stiffened and then writhed again in her chair. "It is over. The spirits have departed. Please leave at once. I am exhausted."

She collapsed forward, facedown on her motionless hands.

The door opened, revealing the housekeeper standing in the hall.

"The séance is over," Bess announced. "You must all leave now so that Mrs. Toller can recover."

The carriage rolled back toward Corley Lane through fog-bound streets. The interior of the vehicle was drenched in shadows because Adam had not lit the lamps. He told him-self that Caroline would appreciate a degree of privacy after what must have been a nerve-shattering experience.

His temper still smoldered. He looked at Caroline, trying to think what to say. She sat there across from him, a warm shawl draped around her shoulders, her face averted. She seemed lost in her memories.

Part of him wanted to offer sympathy but another part longed to remind her that she must not give credence to anything that had happened at the séance. On the other hand, what if the possibility that her lost husband had spoken to her from beyond the grave had provided her with some comfort? Who was he to rip that from her?

He could have strangled Irene Toller with no remorse whatsoever, he decided. How could the woman live with herself? It was one thing to stage a séance as entertainment or even as a cynical means of defrauding the foolish and the gullible. Business was business, after all. No one knew that better than he did. But to deliberately open the flood-gates of a woman's grief was intolerable.

Adam vowed to himself that before this affair was finished, he would see to it that Irene Toller was exposed as the charlatan she was.

"I regret that you were forced to endure that sad experience," he said eventually.

"Do not concern yourself, Adam" Her voice lacked all expression. "It was certainly not your fault."

"Yes, in fact, it was my fault." He flexed one hand on the seat cushion. "I should never have allowed you to talk me into taking you with me tonight."

"No, no, you must not blame yourself," she said quickly. "I am all right, truly."

"You are distraught."

"Not in the least." Her voice rose. "I assure you."

"No one could go through such a harrowing event and not be affected"

"It was all a bit—" She hesitated, as if unsure of the correct word. "Odd, I admit. But I promise you that my nerves are quite steady. I certainly will not sink into a fit of hysteria or melancholia."

"I do not doubt that for a moment" In spite of his simmering anger, admiration welled up inside him. "We have not been long acquainted, Caroline, but I must tell you that I am in awe of your fortitude and resilience."

She opened her fan, closed it and then opened it again in a nervous gesture that seemed quite unlike her.

"You flatter me," she mumbled.

He was making the situation worse for her by talking about it, he thought. But he could not seem to stop now that he had started.

"You must remind yourself that Irene Toller is a complete fraud," he said quietly.

"Yes, of course."

"She took advantage of your widowhood to resurrect strong emotions."

"I am aware of that." She folded her fan and then clasped her gloved fingers very tightly together in her lap. "It is a common trick of the medium's trade."

He clenched his hand into a fist and rested it on his thigh. "It is a cruel business, in my opinion. It rests entirely on deception"

She cleared her throat. "There has never been a notice-able lack of people who are only too happy to be deceived."

The carriage clattered past a row of gas lamps. The weak glare briefly illuminated Caroline's taut features. He worried that she might be about to burst into tears.

"You no doubt loved your husband very much." He groped for the proper words. "My condolences on your loss."

She stiffened. "Thank you. But it has been some time now. I have quite recovered from my grief."

The situation was deteriorating rapidly. If he had an ounce of sense he would close his mouth and keep it shut until they reached Corley Lane. But somehow the knowledge that she might be looking forward to someday joining her dead husband was turning a dagger in his belly.

"I suppose that the thought of your beloved Jeremy waiting for you on the Other Side offers a certain measure of consolation," he heard himself say.

"Enough." She opened her fan with a violent snap. "Not another word, I beg you. I cannot abide any more of this conversation."

"Forgive me." He seemed to be repeating himself frequently tonight, he reflected. He could not recall having apologized as many times in the past year. "The subject is obviously quite painful for you. I give you my oath, you will not be subjected to any more séances. It was a mistake to allow you to become more deeply involved in this affair."

"It was not a mistake," she said brusquely. "It was my decision."

"I will expose Irene Toller at the first opportunity."

"No, you must not do any such thing." Caroline sounded genuinely horrified. "Only think of the risk, sir. You might well jeopardize your own secrets if you allow yourself to become distracted by such a small, unimportant matter. You must be cautious."

"Toller should be punished for the cruel deception she practiced tonight," he said, unmoved. "I cannot allow her to get away with what she did to you. To play upon your grief in such a fashion is unconscionable."

Caroline gave a small choked cry. She was, indeed, about to break down in tears, he thought. Alarmed, he reached for his handkerchief.

When she saw the square of white linen in his hand, she. sighed, as if in surrender.

"That will not be necessary, sir," she muttered. "I am not prostrate with grief. I suppose I may as well come straight out with the truth. I can see that there is no other way to convince you."

"Convince me of what?"

"Irene Toller is not the only one skilled in deception. There was no Jeremy Fordyce. I invented him."

He sat there for a moment, ruefully amazed at his own amazement. He should have expected that she would surprise him yet again, he thought. Nevertheless, he had not anticipated this particular turn of events.

He knew very well why he had failed to perceive the fiction. He had wanted to believe that Caroline was an experienced widow. It had been so convenient to think of her as a woman of the world who was no longer confined by the rules that dictated the behavior of unmarried ladies under the age of thirty.

"You were never wed?^" he asked carefully.

"I'm afraid not. After the disaster in Chillingham three years ago, I concluded that my life would be a good deal more comfortable if I were perceived to be a widow rather than an unmarried woman. After we moved to London, I adopted the name Mrs. Fordyce for both professional and personal use."

He made a mental note of the change in location of the scandal. "Would you mind telling me your real name?" She hesitated. "Caroline Connor."

"I see." He contemplated the fact that it was late at night and he was alone in a carriage with an unmarried lady who should never have been allowed out of the house in the evening without a chaperone. Yes, it certainly had been far more convenient to believe that she was a widow.