“In what way?” Sarah asked, even more interested than her mother.

“The bank employee who stole the money had been, until then, very trustworthy and conscientious. A responsible family man, too. The kind you would never expect to be so foolish.”

“What happened, then?” her mother asked, actually leaning forward in her chair in her eagerness to hear the entire story.

“It seems he fell into the thrall of a young woman.”

Sarah could hardly believe she’d heard him correctly. “Who was she?”

Her father shrugged, puffing on his pipe. “If Van Scoyoc knows her name, he didn’t mention it. But I can’t believe he would care to know it. Some Irish girl, I think he said.”

Sarah felt her hackles rise over the tone with which he said “Irish,” as if the Irish didn’t need names, being something less than human. But to Van Scoyoc and her father and others like them, they didn’t. It was a hideous injustice, but she must choose her battles. She would fight that one another day. She had more pressing matters with which to deal at the moment. “Why did he think she was Irish?” she asked, recalling she’d noticed Catherine Porter looked Irish the first time she’d seen her.

“I don’t… Oh, yes, now I remember. Van Scoyoc said something about a red-haired vixen. That must be why I assumed she was Irish.” He dismissed the topic with a wave of his hand, although Sarah made careful note that the woman he described might have been the elusive Francine. “In any case, this fellow stole several thousand dollars from the bank before anyone discovered it. He’d given the money to this girl, of course, and once his crime was discovered, she disappeared.”

“What happened to the embezzler?” Sarah asked, fairly certain the mystery of Francine’s departure was now solved and the identity of her “rich gentleman” discovered. Surely there weren’t many other red-haired women in the city doing the same thing. “Was he arrested or did he escape?”

“Neither. He was dismissed from his position, of course, but the bank didn’t press charges. The scandal would have ruined them, so they didn’t dare.”

“Could you find out who this man was?” Sarah asked urgently, certain now he must be another victim of the Walcotts and their tenants.

“I probably could, but I don’t believe that would help you,” her father said. “According to Van Scoyoc, the fellow hanged himself from shame after it all came out.”

“How cowardly of him,” her mother said. “And selfish. You said he had a family. What would become of them with him dead?”

“It wouldn’t be much different than if he were alive, my dear,” her father explained. “He’d never be able to find another position. People talk, you know, and his crime would follow him wherever he went, even if no one spoke of it publicly. At least with him dead, his family could be free of that.”

“Yes,” Sarah said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “With him gone, they could starve in respectability.”

Her father frowned at her tone. “Life is frequently unfair, Sarah. When it is, the innocent often suffer. That’s the way of the world, and we cannot hope to change it.”

He believed that, of course. They’d had this argument many times. This argument had driven her sister Maggie to her death. Unfortunately, Sarah didn’t have the energy to answer it tonight. She had more important things to do, in any case. She, for one, was going to change at least one of the ways of the world and make things better for the Ellsworths and Webster Prescott.

Before she left, however, she still needed a bit more information. “Did Mr. Van Scoyoc explain how one might embezzle from the bank without being caught?”

“Not without being caught. Eventually, the discrepancies would be found, no matter how careful the thief was. Blame might be diverted onto another, but the crime could not be concealed forever. He was also surprised that the discrepancy was found so quickly. He did not believe that such a thing couldn’t be discovered in a day, even if the auditors knew what they were looking for.”

“Then how does he explain it?” Sarah asked.

“He doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t believe they found it at all.”

The hour was late by the time Sarah finally arrived at Bellevue. She found Mrs. Ellsworth dozing in her chair, her chin resting on her bony chest, her breath coming in unladylike snores. Webster Prescott was sleeping, too. He seemed to have recovered a bit from his earlier ordeal, and the nurse confirmed he’d been resting comfortably for several hours. Even his fever was a little lower.

Mrs. Ellsworth awoke with a start and a snort when Sarah touched her shoulder. “What…? Oh, Mrs. Brandt,” she said in relief. Then she instinctively looked at Prescott. “How is he?”

“He seems to be doing fairly well.”

“Oh, heavens, don’t say that! It’s bad luck to say a sick person is doing well!” she informed Sarah, aghast at her ignorance.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, however insincerely. “I mean to say he’s not doing as poorly as he was.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” the old woman replied with some relief.

Sarah bit back a smile. “You’ve done a good job guarding him, but it’s time for you to go home to your own bed now.”

“Nonsense! Someone must stay with him all the time. What if that woman comes back to kill him again?”

“Then I’ll be here,” Sarah told her.

“But you shouldn’t waste your time here. You have things you could be doing, while I don’t have anything to look forward to except more waiting.”

“Yes, you do,” Sarah assured her. “I need for you to go home and tell Mr. Malloy where I am when he comes looking for me tomorrow. I have some important things to tell him, especially about the woman who tried to kill Mr. Prescott, and I need to see him as soon as possible.”

“Then I should stay here while you go find Mr. Malloy,” she argued.

“I’ve spent a good part of the afternoon trying to do just that without success. I left a message for him at Police Headquarters, so I think the best plan is for me to stay in one place and let him find me. But he’ll go to my house, and he won’t know where else to look unless you tell him.”

She started sputtering additional objections, but Sarah cut her off.

“You’re going home, and I’m staying here, and I won’t hear any more on the subject. Now, I’ve got a carriage waiting for you downstairs, and you’re keeping the poor driver from his bed.”

“A carriage?” she echoed suspiciously.

“It’s my parents’. They sent me home in it, so I thought I should make good use of it. Now don’t make that poor man wait any longer. There’s food, too, for your and Nelson’s supper, courtesy of my mother’s cook. Enjoy it.”

Mrs. Ellsworth offered a few more feeble arguments, but finally she surrendered. She really was starting to feel the strain of the day. Before she left, however, she pressed a rabbit’s foot into Sarah’s hand.

“It can’t hurt,” she said when Sarah looked skeptical.

“How many of these do you have?” Sarah asked, remembering she’d given one to Malloy as well.

“As many as I need,” she replied.

When she was gone, Sarah made herself as comfortable as possible and settled in for a long night.

Frank wondered how Sarah Brandt could give him a headache when he wasn’t even with her. He’d been feeling pretty good this morning, having arrested Anna Blake’s confessed killer the night before. Although he’d had no reason to be concerned about her comfort, he’d managed to get Mrs. Giddings locked up in The Tombs instead of at Police Headquarters. The Tombs were grim, but they were still far more tolerable than the cellar at Mulberry Street.

Getting Gilbert Giddings released from jail had been the work of a few moments, and he hadn’t even had to deal with the man himself. Let his son tell him the awful news about what his wife had done. He never wanted to see that sorry drunk again. Frank’s sense of accomplishment had dimmed somewhat when he’d gotten Mrs. Brandt’s message, though. He was used to being teased about her, or as used to it as he was ever going to get, but that didn’t mean he was used to having her involved in his cases. He’d never get accustomed to that, especially when being involved meant confronting would-be killers in the act, as he’d learned from Mrs. Ellsworth when he’d gone looking for Sarah Brandt at her home.