"This is, indeed, an honor, Mrs. Fordyce," Miss Brick exclaimed. "We have never had an author call on us. Will you take tea?"

"Tea would be lovely," Caroline said and sat down on a squat sofa covered in green velvet. The fabric was thin and shiny from long years of wear. "Thank you for seeing us. Mr. Grove and I have some questions concerning the events that followed Mrs. Toller's séance"

Adam went to stand near the fireplace, one hand braced on the mantel. Caroline knew that he was watching the expressions on the faces of both women closely. Neither betrayed any indication that they had yet heard of the murder of the medium.

"It was certainly a very satisfactory sitting," Miss Brick said.

"It was so good to speak with our generous friend on the Other Side," Mrs. Trent added.

Caroline smiled. "As I told you last night, I am re-searching the business of séances and mediums with the assistance of Mr. Grove. One of the most important questions one must ask is how much of what a medium predicts comes to pass."

Mrs. Trent made a tut-tutting sound. "There are so many frauds about these days. But we can assure you that Mrs. Toller's talent is quite genuine."

Adam moved slightly. "Then you did, indeed, receive a visit from a gentleman offering the opportunity of a lucrative investment?"

"Oh my, yes," Miss Brick said. "He showed up early this morning. We were still at breakfast when he called." "Can you describe him?" Adam asked.

Caroline could see that the ladies were taken aback by the question.

"A description would be quite helpful for my research," she said quickly.

That seemed to ease the concerns of both women.

"Yes, well, let me think," Miss Brick said. "His name was Mr. Jones. He had a most unfortunate limp. His entire body was somewhat twisted. I suspect he suffered some dreadful illness as a child that affected his posture"

"Very sad." Mrs. Trent sighed. "Such a pleasant gentleman. Excellent manners. Oh, he wore gold-rimmed spectacles"

Miss Brick narrowed her eyes. "Too many whiskers, if you ask me. He could have done with a trim."

Caroline glanced at Adam.

"You say Jones limped?" Adam asked.

Miss Brick nodded. "Rather badly, I'm afraid." "Which leg?" Caroline asked.

"I beg your pardon?" Miss Brick frowned. "Oh, I see what you mean. I can't recall if it was the right or the left. Can you, Sally?"

Mrs. Trent pursed her lips, brows wrinkling. "Left, I believe. No, wait, it may have been his right leg that appeared weak. Oh, dear, I'm afraid I can't be entirely certain on that point."

"But he identified himself just as Mrs. Toller told us he would, and he offered us a very fine investment," Miss Brick said eagerly.

"You gave him some money?" Caroline asked, fearing the worst.

"It was a golden opportunity," Mrs. Trent said cheer-fully. "We would have been foolish not to take advantage of it."

"Oh, dear," Caroline whispered.

"What sort of investment did this Mr. Jones offer to you?" Adam asked.

For the first time, the ladies hesitated, looking at each other.

Miss Brick cleared her throat in an apologetic manner. "We don't wish to seem rude or unhelpful, but Mr. Jones made it clear that we were not to discuss the exact nature of the investment."

"For fear of starting a mad scramble to obtain shares, you see," Mrs. Trent explained. "He said that if it got out that such an excellent opportunity was available, any number of people would try to take advantage. He said secrecy was imperative."

"Of course," Adam said, looking wise. "You must keep the shares in a safe place."

Miss Brick's eyes twinkled. "Never fear, we have them well hidden."

"I'm delighted to hear that" Adam caught Caroline's eye. "Well, I think that is enough research for today, don't you, Mrs. Fordyce? Shall we be on our way?"

Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent stared, stricken.

"But you haven't had tea yet," Miss Brick said in a pleading sort of way.

Caroline glared at Adam. "We haven't had tea, Mr. Grove."

He drummed his fingers on the marble mantel and gave her a thin, steely grin. "Right. Tea. How could I forget?"

Twenty minutes later, Caroline decided that they could finally take their leave without hurting the ladies' feelings.

Outside on the street, Adam seized her arm. "Thought we'd never get out of there."

"Now, Adam, I realize that you are impatient, but it would have been very unkind to rush off. Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent would have been crushed."

"They are no doubt going to be completely flattened, financially speaking, at least, when they discover that those shares they were issued are worthless"

She winced. "I was afraid you were going to say that. Do you think there is any chance at all that Mr. Jones offered them a legitimate investment opportunity?"

"No."

Nothing ambiguous about that response, she noted. "While you spoke with Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent, a question occurred to me."

"What was it?"

"Stock certificates are printed documents, are they not?"

He glanced at her, curious. "Yes. They are often quite ornate with a good deal of fancy lettering and pictures of the railroad or the mine or whatever project the shares rep-resent. Why do you ask?"

"My publisher, Mr. Spraggett, is a printer who grew up in the business. From my dealings with him, I can assure you that printers take great pride in their art." She paused. "In fact, Mr. Spraggett told me once that printers often sign their work with something called a printer's mark."

Adam halted, forcing her to stop so quickly that she al-most stumbled. He looked as if he had just had a revelation.

"What a brilliant notion, madam." He kissed her quite fiercely, looking very pleased. "Absolutely brilliant. If I could track down the printer who produced the shares, I might be able to learn something about the man who commissioned them."

Breathless, Caroline blushed and then quickly checked the street to make certain that no one had witnessed the outrageous spectacle of a gentleman kissing a lady in public. She was relieved to see that there was no one about.

Adam glanced back toward the little house shared by Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent. A decidedly calculating expression darkened his features. "I would very much like to take a look at those shares."

"No, please," she said hastily. "Adam, every time you search a house, you come across dead bodies."

"That is very unfair of you, Caroline. It only happened once in the case of Elizabeth Delmont."

"It very nearly happened again with Irene Toller." She shuddered. "You had every intention of searching her house. If you had gone there only an hour or two earlier this morning, the police might well have discovered you in-side the house. That would have made them a good deal less inclined to believe your alibi."

"Nonsense. I was perfectly safe so long as I had you to vouch for my whereabouts at the time of the murder. Who could possibly doubt the word of the famous author Mrs. Fordyce?"

A short time later they were ushered into the lodgings of Mr. McDaniel, the elderly sitter who had been promised a financial windfall at Elizabeth Delmont's last séance.

McDaniel was as delighted with his unexpected company as Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent had been. He proved even more willing to chat about his good fortune.

"Yes, indeed, the man of affairs Mrs. Delmont described showed up, just as the spirit promised. Name of Jones." He raised his cup using a hand that shook so badly, tea splashed onto his trousers. He did not seem to notice. "Very polite. Very knowledgeable. Pity about the dreadful limp»

"Do you recall anything else about him, sir?" Adam asked.

"Not really. Too many whiskers. Fellow ought to have a hat with his barber." Mr. McDaniel hesitated, thinking. "Wore spectacles." He raised his brows. "Why do you ask?"