The light raps sounded again, reminding Irene of the tappings that the spirits made in the course of a séance.

For some inexplicable reason she had to force herself to go down the hall to the door. What was the matter with her? Why was she suddenly so frightened? There was no reason for this irrational terror. She had a plan, one that would not only exact vengeance but would make her far more money than the investment schemes.

She paused in the hall, breathed deeply and opened the door.

"I got your message," he said.

"Come in."

He crossed the threshold. "You have made things very difficult for me, Irene"

"Did you really believe that I would let you use me and then betray me as if I was nothing more than a cheap whore?"

"Actually you are worse than a cheap whore. You are a fraudulent whore. But let's not quarrel over details. Tell me what it is you want from me."

She smiled through her rage. "Follow me and I will tell you precisely what you must do unless you wish me to ex-pose your secrets to the press."

"This sounds remarkably like blackmail."

"Think of it as a business proposition."

She led the way back down the hall to the séance room. When she walked into the chamber, he was a few steps be-hind her.

"Something tells me this conversation is going to be most unpleasant," he said. "Do you mind if I help myself to some gin?"

"You will help yourself to nothing more of what is mine," she replied, turning her head to give him a scornful look over her shoulder.

Too late she saw that he had picked up one of the pair of heavy brass candlesticks that sat on the hall table. That was when she knew that she had miscalculated for the second time that night.

She opened her mouth to scream and instinctively whirled around to run. But there was no place to flee in the small space.

He struck so swiftly and with such force that the only sound she made was a soft grunt.

She collapsed under the first blow but he hit her again and again until the carpet was soaked with blood. Until he knew for certain that she was dead.

When he was finished he was breathing heavily. Sweat beaded his brow. He looked down at his victim. "Fraudulent whore."

He took his time creating the effect he wanted in the séance room. When he was satisfied, he removed the pocket watch and checked the time. Twelve-fifteen.

He carefully repositioned the hands and then placed the watch on the floor beside the body. He brought the heel of his shoe down with great force, shattering the glass and the intricate works inside the case.

The hands of the watch stopped forever at midnight.

He did not just want her, Adam acknowledged to himself sometime later. He craved her.

Seated in the carriage once more, he looked at Caroline in the shadows. Between the two of them they had man-aged to get her back into her petticoats and gown and put her hair to rights. She looked quite presentable once more. But nothing could dim the sparkle of newfound knowledge that illuminated her face.

He was not accustomed to this kind of edgy, restless passion. Even now, after he had made love to her twice and spent himself completely, all he wanted to think about was how and when he could arrange for another rendezvous with Caroline. The seemingly fathomless depths of his desire for her should worry him greatly, he thought. But for some reason he could not manage to summon up the energy or the will to be even mildly alarmed.

Caroline had said very little on the journey back to Corley Lane. She seemed happily lost in her own musings. He wondered if she was contemplating the pleasures of passion or if she was using the experience as fodder for the next chapter in The Mysterious Gentleman.

The latter possibility was truly chilling, he thought. If he really wanted to rattle his own nerves with dire concerns about what had happened this evening, the notion of Caroline incorporating her observations into her novel should do the trick nicely.

When the carriage slowed to a halt, she emerged from her reverie with a visible start and peeked through the curtains.

"Good heavens, I am home and we have not even discussed the next step in our investigation," she said.

He cracked open the door of the carriage and turned to step down onto the pavement. "Obviously we were occupied with other, more pressing matters."

Her laughter was as light and refreshing as a spring shower.

"Oh, yes, I see what you mean." She followed him out of the carriage and grew more serious. "I do hope you will not attempt to search Mrs. Toller's house tonight."

"No" He took her arm and started toward the steps. "I plan to wait until she and her assistant take themselves off to Wintersett House tomorrow afternoon for another demonstration of spirit writing."

"You know her schedule?" she asked, sounding surprised. "I made inquiries this afternoon"

"Ah, yes, your infamous inquiries. Well, I am relieved to hear that you do not intend to go sneaking about her house tonight."

He came to a halt at the top of the steps. "I would like to talk to you about the events that occurred at the séance this evening. There was one thing in particular that made an impression, aside from the mention of Mr. Fordyce. May I call upon you tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course." She reached into the pocket of her gown for her key. "What was it that caught your attention?"

"The investment opportunity that one of the spirits mentioned to the two ladies."

"I remember. But I do not think it means much. I told you, it is quite common for mediums to predict that some of their sitters will come into a surprise inheritance."

"But this struck me as an unusually precise prediction." He took the key from her hand and fitted it into the lock. "There were certain specific details, such as the fact that the man who approached them would identify himself as a friend of their deceased acquaintance."

"Yes, that's true."

"The first time we spoke you mentioned that one of the sitters at Elizabeth Delmont's last sitting received investment advice."

"Yes, you're right," she said. "And it was of a similar nature, now that you mention it. One of the spirits that Delmont summoned told Mr. McDaniel that he would soon be contacted by a gentleman who would mention the phantom's name and provide him with information concerning a lucrative investment. But what does that have to do with murder and the missing diary?"

"Perhaps nothing at all." He opened the door. "But I admit that I find it very interesting that Toller and Delmont made such similar predictions to their sitters."

She stepped into the shadowed front hall and turned to look at him. "Do you think it suggests a link between the two mediums?"

"It's possible, yes"

`But Irene Toller and Elizabeth Delmont were rivals." "Money makes for strange bedfellows. Just ask any of the husbands and wives in Society."

"That is a very cynical remark, Adam."

"I discovered long ago that one can answer a great many questions about anyone, high or low, if one first ex-amines the source of his or her income."

"An intriguing observation. That reminds me, you said you had plans for that building in Stone Street. What are you going to do with it?"

He hesitated and then decided that there was no reason not to tell her of his intentions. "I am making arrangements to turn it into a charity house for street children. It will be a place where they will be safe and well fed. They will be taught to read and write so that they can make their way in the world."

She gave him a soft, mysteriously knowing smile. "Of course. I should have guessed."

Surprised at the comment, he frowned. "How the devil could you have possibly—"