"One never knows," Sebastian said cryptically. He made to close the wardrobe doors and paused. He leaned forward once again.

"What is it?"

"There is an unusual joining in the wood," Sebastian said.

Prudence looked closer. "It reminds me of the sort of joining I found in the section of the floor that concealed the Pembroke jewels."

"I believe there is a false back in this wardrobe." Sebastian pushed experimentally against the back of the wardrobe. Nothing happened. "There is probably a hidden spring around here somewhere."

Prudence went around the side of the wardrobe to take a look from the outside. "The wardrobe is directly against the wall, Sebas­tian. Even if you manage to open the back, you would find only stone behind it."

"Nevertheless, I would like to solve this small puzzle." Sebastian continued to examine the inside of the wardrobe.

Prudence understood the impulse that drove him. She, too, was curious to see if there was a hidden mechanism designed to open the back of the wardrobe.

She got down on her knees to see if there was any sign of a lever or spring beneath the cabinet. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed a small object beneath the bed.

"Sebastian, there is something over there."

"What is it?"

"It is under the bed. A little box, I believe." Prudence crawled toward the bed on her hands and knees. "Hold the candle lower."

"Let me get it." Sebastian reached down and hauled her upright. "We do not know what else may be under that damn bed."

She wrinkled her nose at his broad back as he went down on one knee. "Very well, my lord, but I want you to remember that it is I who spotted this particular bit of evidence, whatever it is."

"I would have gotten around to exploring beneath the bed in due course." Sebastian reached under the bed and picked up the little object.

"Well?" Prudence demanded eagerly. "What have you got?"

"A snuffbox."

"Is there anything else under there?" Prudence asked.

"Just a chamber pot." Sebastian got to his feet and turned the little snuffbox over in his hand. He opened it. "There is still some snuff inside." He held the box close to his nose and inhaled cautiously. "A very distinctive aroma."

"I am glad you do not use snuff," Prudence remarked. "It is a very nasty habit."

"But also a very common one. As is this snuffbox. It looks like dozens of others carried by gentlemen of the ton." Sebastian got to his feet. "Nevertheless, this blend is quite unusual. It might be possible to discover which tobacconist created it and for whom it was created."

"Perhaps it belonged to Ringcross, which will tell us little."

"I'm not so certain about that." Sebastian swept the shadowed chamber with another intent glance. "One would have thought that if it had belonged to Ringcross, it would have gone out the window at the same time he did. Unless there was a struggle in this room before he died and the box somehow fell out of his Docket."

Prudence stared at him. "You think this might really be a case of murder?"

"It is too soon to say. But the investigation grows more interesting by the moment." He walked over to the window and swept the heavy black drapes aside.

Prudence studied the large window. "It would be awkward to fall from there unless one were standing on the ledge."

"Yes. But one could certainly push a man over the edge," Sebas­tian said.

Prudence shivered again as another wave of deep, endless cold assailed her. "Or one could jump."

She was abruptly swamped with emotions that seemed to emanate from some source other than herself. Rage and terror mingled within her for an instant, sending another shudder through her. Prudence staggered beneath the onslaught, yet she understood that she was not the one who had actually felt these horrifying sensations.

Someone else had experienced these dreadful feelings here in this chamber. Another woman. Prudence was certain of it.

"Prudence?" Sebastian held the candle high and gazed down into her face. "What's wrong?"

She looked up at him, willing him to understand. "I think I am encountering my first real ghost."

"Enough." He took her arm and started purposefully toward the door. "This has been too much for you. I am going to get you out of here at once."

"Sebastian, this is not my imagination. I vow, something terrible happened in here. I'm not at all certain it has to do with Ringcross. I can feel a woman's presence."

"Calm yourself, my sweet."

"But, Sebastian—"

He had her through the door. He paused long enough to lock the chamber and then he urged her quickly down the black hallway to­ward the stairs.

Prudence was dismayed. "You think I am allowing my imagination to take control of my senses, don't you?"

"You are a very creative and intelligent woman, my dear. Such talents sometimes have their drawbacks."

"Fustian. Terrible events have occurred in that room, Sebastian. Perhaps they relate to Ringcross's death, perhaps not. But I swear to

"I am not disputing you, Prue." Sebastian whisked her along the long hall toward the stairs.

"You don't believe me," she said.

"I admit I do not believe in ghosts. I also admit that I have a strong preference for solid evidence before I reach my conclusions."

"In other words, you think I am the victim of an overactive imagi­nation."

"My dear, the fact that you have chosen to investigate spectral phenomena as a hobby would indicate that your imagination is very active, indeed. No offense, but you must understand that my own hobby requires a more stringent investigative approach."

"Hah. You think your approach is superior to mine?"

"Perhaps not in cases of spectral phenomena, but when it comes to investigating a crime, most definitely."

"That is an insufferably arrogant, high-handed thing to say," Pru­dence announced. "My methods are just as scientific as yours."

Without any warning the door they were passing on the right sud­denly swung inward. There was a scratching noise and then a candle flared. An old man with a scraggly beard peered at them.

"What in bloody hell?" Sebastian jerked Prudence behind him and whirled to face the wizened figure in the doorway. "Who are you?"

The old man ignored him and gazed at Prudence with rheumy eyes. "You ain't her." His deeply lined face collapsed in obvious disap­pointment.

"I beg your pardon?" Prudence stood on tiptoe to look at him from her position directly behind Sebastian's right shoulder.

"I said, you ain't her." The old man squinted. "I been hiding up here ever since she done in the other one. I been watchin‘ for her to come. Figured she'd be back to get the others. I wanted to see her for meself."

"Who was it you were expecting to see?" Sebastian asked.

"The poor gel what jumped to her death from that cursed cham­ber." The man gave Sebastian a shrewd look. "I'm the one what found her, y'know."

"No, I didn't know," Sebastian said.

"Found her in the stream. They said she'd fallen in and drowned, but I seen her jump. They carried her body to the stream and dumped her in so folks would think she fell in and drowned. But I know bet-

The man was half mad, Prudence realized, but he believed every word he was saying. "Who are you?"

"Higgins. Halfwit Higgins, they call me." Higgins laughed sound­lessly, revealing a mouth that was virtually empty of teeth.

"When did the girl jump, Higgins?" Sebastian asked.

"A long time ago." Higgins spoke in a singsong voice now. His eyes seemed to be focused on something far away. "But I ain't for­got."

"Was Ringcross responsible for causing her to jump?" Sebastian demanded.

"They was all responsible." Higgins nodded wisely. "And they'll all pay. You'll see. They'll all pay. She cursed ‘em afore she jumped, you see. Told 'em she'd be avenged. Now it's started."