"Never mind. It's not important. Good night, Adam." "Good night, Caroline."

"I cannot wait to get back to my new chapter in the morning," she said. "I am suddenly brimming over with fresh ideas for my story."

The door closed very gently in his face.

He stood there for a moment, bemused. At a time like this, some women would be worrying about their reputations or the possibility of pregnancy. Caroline appeared to be concerned only with the plot of her novel.

He wondered if that should give him cause for alarm.

Shortly after nine-thirty the following morning, Caroline put down her pen and looked at the paragraph that she had just finished writing.

Lydia began to suspect that Edmund Drake was not as he appeared on the surface. The hard, unyielding exterior he presented to the world concealed not just his secrets but perhaps a certain innate nobility of soul as well. He was not the sort to reveal his true nature easily, but she had learned enough about his character in the wake of the re-cent, disturbing events to cause her to question her original assumptions.

Drake was most certainly a man of strong passions, she concluded, but those passions were held in check by a powerful will and a sense of honor that would put to shame the shallow code embraced by so many wealthy, well-born gentlemen.

Drake made his own rules, and he lived by them.

Satisfied, Caroline reached for another sheet of paper. The story was coming along nicely. The surprising twist in the character of Edmund Drake would certainly astonish her readers. Now all she needed was another startling incident with which to end the chapter and she would be finished with this week's episode.

She picked up her pen and tapped it lightly on the desktop. A runaway carriage, perhaps? No, that would be much too similar to an earlier incident. That sort of thing had to be spaced out carefully in order to create the de-sired effect.

What was needed now was a scene of thrilling passion, she decided. Something along the lines of what she had experienced in Adam's arms last night would be perfect.

The exciting memories flooded back. She indulged her-self in them once again, aware of tingling warmth in her lower body.

Yes, a passionate embrace would be just the thing to end this chapter. Inspired, she started to write.

In the shadowy light cast by the carriage lamps Lydia could see Edmund Drake's eyes glowing like emerald coals taken from some supernatural fire. He took her into his arms, crushing her against his powerful chest.

"My sweet, beautiful Lydia," he whispered. "When I am with you I cannot seem to control

"Mrs. Fordyce?"

Caroline started in surprise. Her pen slipped, marring control. She looked up quickly and saw Mrs. Plummer standing in the opening.

"Yes, what is it?" she said, trying not to let her impatience show.

"I'm sorry to disturb you while you're writing but this just came for you." Mrs. Plummer walked into the room. She held an envelope in one hand. "A lad brought it around to the kitchen door a moment ago."

"A note?" Caroline was instantly wary. "It's not from Spraggett, is it? He knows very well that the new chapter is not due until the end of the week. I vow, if he does not stop pestering me I am going to lose all patience and look for another publisher."

"No, I don't think it's from Mr. Spraggett. He always sends that young red-haired lad, Tom, when he wants to deliver a message to you. The boy who gave me this was a stranger."

Adam, Caroline thought. It had to be him. No one else had any reason to send her a message. Her pulse sparked and a pleasant sense of euphoria bubbled through her. Then it occurred to her that Adam might have dispatched the note to let her know that he had changed his mind about calling on her today.

"Thank you, Mrs. Plummer."

Snatching the envelope from the housekeeper's fingers, Caroline ripped it open.

Dear Mrs. Fordyce:

I must see you immediately. It concerns a message from the Other Side that was communicated to me last night after you left my house.

Yrs.,

I. Toller

"How curious," Caroline said, rereading the note. "It is from the medium."

"Which medium would that be, ma'am?"

"Irene Toller. The one who gave the séance that I at-tended with my, uh, friend Mr. Hardesty last night." She put the note down, rose quickly and started around the desk. "I wonder what on earth this is all about."

"Will you be going out, then, ma'am?"

"Yes. This is a very interesting turn of events. I do not want to miss the opportunity. I am going straight upstairs to change into a walking dress." She whisked through the door and then paused in the hall. "When my aunts return from their morning constitutional, please tell them that I had to pay a hasty visit to Mrs. Toller and that I shall be back in time for lunch."

"Yes, ma'am."

Caroline hurried toward the stairs and then paused again when another thought struck her. "One more thing, Mrs. Plummer. Mr. Hardesty mentioned that he would pay a call sometime today. If he arrives before I return, will you please tell him that I will be back shortly and ask him to wait?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She was forced to let two dashing hansom cabs go past be-fore a lumbering hackney presented itself. It was really most annoying not to be able to use a hansom, she thought, climbing up into the aging carriage. Not only did the de-sign, with its open front and the driver up behind, appear as though it would provide the passenger with a marvelous view, the hansoms were considerably faster and more agile in the London traffic than other vehicles.

Unfortunately, any lady, even a widow, who was seen riding in a hansom was considered to be fast in more ways than one.

Sometime later the hackney stopped in the street in front of Irene Toller's address. The house appeared just as bleak and gloomy this morning as it had the night before when it had been shrouded in fog and darkness, Caroline thought, alighting.

She was concentrating so intently on wondering why Irene Toller had sent the message that she did not immediately take note of the small cluster of people standing about in the street in front of the house. When she realized that a crowd had gathered, a trickle of alarm coursed through her. Something was very wrong here.

She caught snippets of conversation when she went up the steps.

"The villain broke into her house while she was asleep is the way I heard it," announced a woman who wore a housekeeper's apron. -

"Can't believe it happened right here in our street," a maid whispered.

"Never had any trouble like this in all the years I've lived here," a matronly-looking female declared. "This is a respectable neighborhood."

Caroline's alarm intensified. All she could think about in that dreadful moment of realization was Adam and his plan to search the premises. Had he changed his mind after he had taken her home? Had he come directly here instead of waiting until later today as he had planned?

"Who's that woman on the front step?" someone hissed behind Caroline. "Never saw her around here before."

Caroline ignored the curiosity and banged the knocker. Please don't let this have anything to do with Adam.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the narrow hall. The door opened. She found herself gazing at a large burly man in a constable's uniform.

"What would you be wanting at this address, madam?" he demanded.

Panic shot through her. Had Adam been caught in the act of searching Toller's house? Visions of him being clapped in irons and hauled off to a damp, dark prison seared her brain.

She forced herself to speak calmly. "I received a message from Mrs. Toller a short while ago. Is something wrong?"