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personal footman to you, Miss. Yes.”
    â€œHow tiresome. But we are not in London now. And I particularly desire to be alone for a little while.”
    Gorton’s shoulders rustled under her cloak, for all the world as though she had been a large bird ruffling her feathers. “In that case,” she said with determination, “Ay shall follow at a discreet but proper distance, Miss Grainger.”
    Zoe sighed and, capitulating, passed through the open door and into the gardens.

C HAPTER II
    Zoe was pleased to find that the gardens behind the Three Horse Inn were quite extensive. In addition to a neatly scythed lawn there was a large flower garden with well-kept paths meandering among the various beds in which chrysanthemums were out-blooming some rather leggy late roses. An area for vegetables was separated from the main gardens by high hedges, and the rear of the property was taken up by a sizeable orchard.
    Autumn was shortening the days; the sun had already gone down, and dusk was deepening to evening. The air was still fairly warm however, and carried upon it the smell of cooking and the tangy aroma of woodsmoke. Several other guests were enjoying a stroll before dinner. Zoe encountered a gentleman and two older ladies who nodded politely as they passed; a lady walked hand in hand with a small shy-eyed boy, and the bantering voices of several gentlemen could be heard beyond the hedges that screened the vegetable gardens.
    Zoe wandered aimlessly, wondering what Papa might be thinking at this moment, if he was able to think at all. Mrs. Mowbray’s children were wildly undisciplined, and although the two smaller ones would be in the nursery at this hour, the other four would be quarrelling and crashing about the house until eight o’clock. Poor Papa. How he would enjoy the peace and privacy of this quiet stroll instead of—
    From the vegetable gardens there came a louder outburst of shouts and hilarity. Zoe drew back uneasily, which was fortunate, because something hurtled over the hedge, barely missing her before it thumped to the ground.
    An indignant male voice was raised. “No, really, that is too bad of you, Templeby! You had no business to interfere with it!”
    Glancing down at the object that had been “interfered with,” Zoe uttered a shriek of horror. A human foot lay before her, the severed area above the ankle hideously gory and jagged. She felt faint, and heard again my lady’s voice telling of evil surgeons and carelessly mistaken amputations. Sickened, she was grateful for the arm that steadied her as Gorton rushed to her aid, only to herself emit an even more piercing shriek.
    There was a male chorus of muffled groans and exclamations.
    â€œOh—Egad! Women!”
    â€œNow see what you’ve done!”
    â€œI’m off! Go and make your excuses, Perry!”
    â€œNo you don’t you villain! Hey! Come back! You threw it! You go and make things right! Blast the traitor—he’s gone! Jamie—will you…?”
    Someone was pushing his way through a break in the hedge. Another man vaulted over a lower spot, almost colliding with Gorton, who informed him roundly that he was a callous viper and should be ashamed of himself.
    The newcomer snatched up the foot and declared with shrinking nervousness that he and his friends were most sorry, and had no thought to have alarmed anyone. He was somewhere in the mid-twenties Zoe judged, with powdered hair, an open, boyish face, and freckles that were apparent even in the fading light. “I do promise you, ma’am,” he stammered, “that we’d no idea ladies were—er, nearby, else—”
    His agitated gesture had allowed her a brief but clearer view of the foot. Revolted, she thought, ‘He has painted the toenails! ’ and she interrupted shrilly. “Oh! How could you be so grossly unfeeling?”
    Gorton’s view was also improved, and she let out a most