"Probably not."
"With everything pointing toward her brother, it's bound to be painful for her."
"It's obvious Ballinger was involved in this mess somehow. But trust me, Sheldrake, when I tell you that there's no way he could have been the Spider."
"If you say so." Peter looked sceptical.
"I do. What we have now are strong indications that someone very much wants us to believe the Spider died two years ago." Harry quickly ran through a description of the journal Augusta had found in the lane behind the town house.
"Good God," Sheldrake breathed. "The journal is real? Not a fake that someone fixed up to trick us?"
"I am certain it is real. I will tell you truthfully, Sheldrake, it gives me a cold chill to think about who may have been watching Augusta in that lane last night."
"I see what you mean."
Harry was about to discuss the details of what he had discovered in the journal when he realized that Lovejoy was crossing the room to join them. The man's green eyes glittered with bored menace.
So many bored and dangerous men floating about London like so much flotsam after the storm of war, Harry thought.
"Good evening, Graystone. Sheldrake. I am surprised to find you both here tonight. Would have thought you'd have been dancing attendance on your ladies. Congratulations on your engagement, by the way, Sheldrake. Although, I must say, it was rather unsporting of you to remove one of the few viable heiresses from the scene. Not much left for the rest of us to choose from, hmmm?"
"I am certain you will find one to your taste," Peter murmured.
Harry turned the half-empty glass of claret in his hand, studying the ruby highlights. "Was there something you wanted, Lovejoy?"
"As a matter of fact, there was. Thought I'd warn you both that there's a master cracksman operating in Town these days. Broke into my library a few weeks ago."
Harry looked at him without expression. "Is that so? Did you report the loss to the magistrate?"
"Nothing was taken that cannot easily be replaced." Lovejoy smiled coldly, turned, and left.
Harry and Peter sat in meditative silence for a few minutes.
"You may have to do something about Lovejoy," Peter finally observed.
"Yes, it would appear so." Harry shook his head. "The only thing I do not understand is why he has settled on me as his target."
"In the beginning, he was probably simply intent on seducing Augusta for the hell of it. But now he has no doubt reasoned out that you ruined his little game by breaking into his library to get Augusta's vowels. He would no doubt like to even the score. He has not had the opportunity because you have been out of town for the past few weeks."
"I shall keep an eye on him."
"Do that. I would assume from his not-so-veiled threats that he will try to use Augusta to gain his revenge."
Harry thought about that as he finished his claret. "I still believe there is more in this Lovejoy business than meets the eye. Perhaps it is time I paid another late-night visit to his library."
"I shall go with you. It might prove interesting." Peter grinned slowly. "But surely you do not intend to try anything like that tonight. Your schedule is already rather crowded this evening."
"You are quite right. Some other evening when I am free. We have other important business tonight."
Augusta was pacing the library when Harry and Peter arrived. She had dressed appropriately for the adventure. She was wearing a black velvet cloak over her black gown, a pair of matching black gloves, and black velvet half boots. She had chosen the boots because she thought they would stand up to a tramp through the garden and down the lane better than her pumps or slippers.
She had sent the staff to bed hours ago and had been fidgeting with excitement ever since. The significance of being invited to join Harry and his friends tonight nearly overwhelmed her. She had gained admission to his special circle at last.
Augusta realized she was at last going to share with Harry that wonderful close friendship he shared with Sally and Peter. Together they would solve a mystery and Harry would see that Augusta could do her part. He would learn to respect her cleverness, she promised herself. He would start to see her as one of his true friends, a woman he could trust and with whom he shared the secret aspect of himself.
The soft sound of the door opening and closing in the hall brought Augusta to a halt. There was a murmur of men's voices and the sound of booted feet on the tile. She whirled around quickly and ran to the library door. When she opened it she found a dour-looking Harry and a grinning Peter Sheldrake.
Peter sketched a gallant bow. "Good evening, madam. May I be allowed to tell you how perfectly attired you are for this evening's event? The black velvet cloak and boots are extremely dashing. Does she not look splendidly dressed for this sort of thing, Graystone?"
Harry scowled. "She looks like a damn highwayman. Let us be off." He motioned both of them out the door with his ebony cane. "I want to get this over as quickly as possible."
"Are we not going to go out through the library window?" Augusta asked.
"No, we are not. We are going to go out through the kitchens in a normal, reasonably civilized manner."
Augusta wrinkled her nose at Peter as they followed Harry out of the library. "Does he always get like this when he is involved in an investigation?"
"Always," Peter assured her. "Quite a killjoy, our Graystone. No sense of adventure."
Harry threw his companions a quelling glance over his shoulder. "Be still, both of you. I do not want to waken the staff."
"Yes, sir," Peter murmured.
"Yes, sir," Augusta whispered.
The trio made their way safely out into the garden without incident and found they did not need a lamp to light the route down the lane. There was enough moonlight to reveal the paving stones, and the warm glow from the upstairs windows of Lady Arbuthnott's house served as a beacon.
As they drew closer to their goal, Augusta noticed that the downstairs of the big house was dark. "Will Sally be waiting for us at the kitchen door, then?"
"Yes," Peter said softly. "She'll take us into her library and we will talk there."
When they reached the gate of Lady Arbuthnott's garden, Harry paused. "It's open."
"No doubt she sent a servant out earlier to unlatch it for us," Peter said, pushing at the heavy gate. "I do not think she has the strength to walk this far on her own anymore, poor dear."
"I am amazed she can continue to operate Pompeia's," Augusta whispered.
" 'Tis all that keeps her going. That and the pleasure of being involved in one last investigation for Graystone, of course," Peter confided.
"Silence," Harry ordered.
Augusta clutched the folds of her cloak around her and followed Harry in dutiful silence. Peter brought up the rear of the short column.
Because she was directly behind him, Augusta nearly collided with Harry when he came to an abrupt halt.
"Ooomph." She caught her balance. "Harry? What is it?"
"Something is wrong." There was a deadly flat quality in Harry's voice which alarmed Augusta as nothing else could have done. She realized he was grasping his ebony walking stick in a rather odd manner.
"Trouble?" Peter spoke softly in the shadows, all trace of banter gone from his voice.
"The back door is standing open. There is no light and no sign of Sally. Take Augusta back to the house. Rejoin me once you have seen her safely inside."
"Understood." Peter reached out to take Augusta's arm.
Augusta sidestepped him hurriedly. "Harry, no, please let me come with you. Sally might have become gravely ill. Perhaps that is why—" Augusta cried out as her toe tangled in the hem of a woman's gown that had drifted out from beneath a clump of bushes. "Oh, dear God, no. Sally."