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could it be? Elwood wouldn’t have to act so secretively. Was it—could it possibly be Thomas, come to try to extricate himself? Her nerves were screaming, and if that unknown presence didn’t do something very soon, she would scream, too.
    When the intruder at last moved, he moved so silently and swiftly it caught her unawares. The first intimation she had of it was the feel of cold steel against her temple. It froze her to the very marrow of her bones. “Nice and easy now, stand up, and no tricks.” The voice was soft as silk—a mere susurrus, low-pitched and as menacing as the pistol muzzle that seared her flesh.
    “Light the lantern,” he said. “Let’s have a look at you, miss.” How did he know she had a lantern? How did he know she was a “miss”—he hadn’t touched her. The man was magic.
    She rose, trembling, and reached for the lantern. “I don’t have a tinderbox,” she said in a nervous, breathless voice. But she had the lantern in her hand and realized it made an excellent weapon. Without further delay, she raised it and struck out at her captor. She knew exactly where his head was, for he had just spoken. So how was it possible she missed him and swiped empty air with the lantern?
    A light laugh floated from behind her—from a different direction than before—yet the pistol was still against her temple. “Tch, tch, Lady Faith! Mind your manners!” Were there two of them? No, only one had come in. How did he know who she was? Her heart pinched in fear as she realized that whoever was here she was no match for him. The man was directly behind her now; so near she felt the heat of his body against her back. She felt one arm go around her waist, not with any amorous intent, but only to feel around the desk’s surface for the tinderbox, which he shoved toward her fingers.
    “Light the lantern,” he ordered.
    Her fingers trembled so badly she had to make three strikes of the steel against flint before she could ignite the charred linen and then the lantern. Again that long arm brushed past her waist, picked up the lantern, lifted it high, and then stood back. Feeling as if she were in a nightmare, she turned slowly to see who she had to deal with and found herself staring into the slightly slanted yellow eyes of Mr. Delamar. They glowed like the eyes of a wild animal in the dark. His high cheekbones stood out prominently in the shaft of light that shone up from the lantern. She could even distinguish the long, thin scar. He wore a perfectly diabolical expression.
    “You!” she spat contemptuously.
    “Good evening, Lady Faith.” He performed a brief parody of a bow. “You must be lost. I didn’t expect to see you so far from the West End. I trust I didn’t frighten you?”
    “You scared me to death!”
    “Surely you exaggerate—you look more lively than when we first met. A little fear is becoming to you, and good for the constitution as well. Are you alone?”
    As the fear dissipated, she assumed her more usual façade of stiff politeness. “The groom is waiting outside.’’
    “I am impressed at your daring. Lord Thomas must be something quite out of the ordinary to lead you so far from the path of propriety. Hiding his light under a thimble, no doubt,” he added with an ironical smile. “I expect we’re both looking for the same thing. Did you have any luck?”
    “No.”
    “Where have you looked?”
    “In the desk and the cupboards. There’s nowhere else to search.”
    “They didn’t waste much blunt in putting up a good front, did they?”
    “That seems to be the style in business nowadays,” she answered tartly, remembering his own office.
    He gave her a lazy smile and said, “Your point, madam. I would have space about me that is lean, to misquote the Bard.” He then proceeded to search those same places Faith had, with more thoroughness but with no better success. “I’d say offhand he doesn’t plan to return. The only thing he left behind is the record of