Prudence had been rather proud of her first attempt at treading the boards. She was the only one who had memorized her lines and she was ridiculously pleased when Sebastian clapped loudly in re­sponse to her performance.

But now she was ready for the real adventure of the evening.

Prudence had removed her night rail as soon as the door closed behind the maid. She had quickly redressed in a sturdy woolen gown she had brought with her for the occasion and now she was impa­tiently waiting for Sebastian to fetch her so that they could begin their investigations.

It seemed forever before her door opened without any warning and Sebastian stepped quietly into the room. He glanced back over his shoulder as he beckoned her. "Are you ready?"

"Of course." Prudence picked up an unlit candle and hurried to­ward the door. "What kept you?"

"I was waiting for the traffic in the hall to fade somewhat." He smiled. "Did you know that young Dodwell is conducting a liaison with Lady Keegan?"

"Lady Keegan?" Prudence was startled. "But she must be twice his age. Furthermore, she is married."

"But her husband stayed behind in Town, if you will recall." Sebas­tian touched her lips with his finger. "Not a word, now, until we reach the stairs."

He took her hand and led her quickly along the silent hall. There was no need yet for the candle, Prudence realized. The light from a wall sconce provided just enough illumination to make out the door­ways and stairs. Apparently Lord Curling was well aware of the late-night habits of his guests.

The staircase that led to the third floor was a different matter entirely. It was pitch-black and a cold draft made itself felt through the skirts of Prudence's warm gown.

Sebastian did not allow Prudence to light her candle until they reached the top of the stairs and were safely out of sight in the deep shadows of the upper hallway. When the taper flared to life, he took it from her and held it aloft.

"How will we know which room Ringcross was in when he died?"

"I had my valet make a few discreet inquiries among the servants earlier," Sebastian explained. "One of them told him it was the room in the south tower."

"It's quite chilly up here." Prudence rubbed her arms briskly as they walked toward the south wine of the sprawlitie castle.

"Curling said this floor was never used. No point wasting heat on it."

"If this floor is never occupied, what was Ringcross doing up here the night he died?" Prudence asked.

"A very good question, my dear." Sebastian paused in front of a closed door at the end of the hall. "This must be the chamber."

Prudence tried the doorknob. "It's locked."

"I'll take care of it. Here, hold the candle."

Prudence took the candle from him. She watched in admiration as Sebastian removed a short length of metal from his sleeve. He in­serted it cautiously into the lock.

"Open for me, sweet," Sebastian whispered to the lock. "That's it, darling, let me inside. Give me what I want. Ah, yes. That's right. That's what I need. Beautiful."

There was a tiny click. Sebastian turned the doorknob and opened the door. The hinges squeaked eerily.

Prudence was impressed. "Very clever, my lord."

He smiled faintly as he moved into the room. "Thank you, my dear. It is always pleasant to have one's small accomplishments appre­ciated."

"You must teach me how to do that," Prudence said.

"I'm not certain that is a sound notion. If I teach you all my tricks, you might decide you no longer need me."

"Nonsense." Prudence started to follow him into the dark cham­ber. "We are a team, my lord. We must share our expertise with each— Good heavens." She gasped as a wave of deep, unrelenting cold swept through her.

"What's wrong?" Sebastian asked from the shadows.

"I don't knpw." Prudence glanced at the candle in her hand, fully expecting to see that it had gone out. But the flame still burned. "It's freezing cold in here."

"No colder than it is out in the hall."

"It feels much colder- to me." She raised the candle and gazed around the chamber.

The furnishings were limited to a strange-looking bed with iron posts, a massive wardrobe, a table, and heavy drapes covering the windows.

"Everything is in black," Prudence whispered in awe. "The drapes, the bedclothes, the carpet. Everything." She raised the candle higher and peered at two lengths of chain that dangled from the wall. "What on earth are those things?"

Sebastian walked across the room and examined the chains. "Man­acles."

"Good heavens. How very odd. Do you suppose this was once a dungeon?"

"No. Dungeons are usually built at the bottom of the house, not the top."

"A most unusual decor."

"Yes." Sebastian took the candle from Prudence and began to move slowly around the room.

Prudence shivered as she watched him. It was definitely colder in here than out in the hall, she thought. She wondered why Sebastian didn't feel the difference. It was not just the chill in the chamber that bothered her. There was an unpleasant sensation of darkness and shadow that had nothing to do with the ordinary gloom of night.

"Sebastian, there is something very wrong about this chamber," she said urgently.

He glanced at her in concern. "Damnation. You're frightened. I should never have brought you up here. Come, I will take you back to your bedchamber."

"No." She managed a hasty smile of reassurance. "No, I am quite all right. Just a bit cold."

"Are you certain you don't want to go back to your room?"

"And miss the opportunity to observe your investigation tech­niques? Absolutely not," she said staunchly. "Carry on, my lord."

He gave her a last, speculative look. "Very well. But if you become any more alarmed, you must tell me at once. I won't have you terrified out of your wits by this business."

"I assure you I am not in the least bit terrified." Prudence sought for a way to change the subject. "Do you know, I cannot imagine using this as a guest room. It is far too bizarre."

"I agree." Sebastian stopped in front of the wardrobe and opened it. "There are not many houseguests who would be comfortable in such a chamber."

"Is there anything inside that wardrobe?" Prudence stepped closer, momentarily distracted by the expression of intense concentra­tion she saw on Sebastian's face.

"No, it appears to be empty." Sebastian leaned into the shadowed wardrobe. "But there are a number of small drawers built into it."

"Let me see." Prudence glanced inside. Several rows of clrawers occupied most of the space. "I wonder what one would keep in here?"

"I have no idea." Sebastian began systematically opening the little drawers.

They were all empty except for the very last one in the lower right-hand corner. Sebastian was about to close it as he had the others when he paused, frowning.

"What is it?" Prudence stood on tiptoe, trying to peer over his shoulder. She saw the gleam of gold in the corner of the small drawer. "A coin."

"No, a button." Sebastian plucked the little gold object out of the drawer and held it in front of the candle. "It's engraved." He studied it more closely. "The Princes of Virtue."

Prudence frowned. "Virtue? Do you suppose that button belongs to an Evangelical?"

"I doubt it." Sebastian looked thoughtful. "Members of sonie gen­tlemen's clubs often have their buttons engraved with the n^me of their particular clubs."

"Have you ever heard of a club called The Princes of Virtual"

"No," Sebastian admitted. "I have not. But I might be ^ble to learn something about it when we return to Town." He dropped the button into his pocket and closed the drawer.

"I suppose it's highly unlikely that button will provide any clues about the nature of Ringcross's death," Prudence said, disappointed. "I doubt if there is any connection. I suspect the button has bee_n lying in that drawer for years."