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hear her at first, but when they’d gone under the archway, she paused behind the tangle of vines and peered back toward the house. Fannie followed her gaze. A cat strolled up the brick lane from the street. Making its way up the stairs toward the door, it paused, nose in the air, one front paw lifted.
    When something wet assaulted the palm of her hand, Fannie gasped, then realized that Jake had come to say hello. She laid an open palm atop his head, then snatched it away when a low rumble emerged from deep in the dog’s throat. Poor old thing. He’s grown grouchy in his old age.
    Fannie had just opened her mouth to speak to the dog when the rumble became a full-fledged growl. Jake focused on the Rousseau house and then, in a furious charge that belied his age, launched himself through the gate and toward the shadows from which emerged a human form, crouched low, coming out of the Rousseaus’ side door and slinking toward the narrow alley behind the house. Assaulted by an eighty-pound ball of fury, the burglar went down with a shriek. At the sound of a window opening above her, Fannie looked up just in time to see Minette’s father appear and then quickly disappear from view.
    Hannah charged back through the gate, curtain rod at the ready, shouting, “You’d better stay put!”
    Fannie stood rooted to the spot, her fingertips pressed to her mouth, even as Mr. Beauvais rushed past her shouting for Jake to leave off. The dog obeyed but backed away only a few feet, head erect, teeth bared. Mr. Beauvais brandished a pistol as he ordered the criminal to get up—slowly. Fannie’s knees went weak. She swallowed bile.
    Mr. Beauvais called her name. “Fannie? Are you there?”
    She nodded.
    “Fannie?”
    “Y-yes,” she croaked. “I’m here. By the garden gate.”
    “Would you be so kind as to rouse James and tell him I require his assistance? I’d ask Mrs. Pike to go, but, frankly, I rather like the idea of her and that curtain rod at my side.”
    Fannie relaxed enough to move. Managing a reply, she scurried across the lawn toward the carriage house and up the outside stairs to the doorway to James’s quarters before realizing she was definitely underdressed to be summoning the Beauvais family’s coachman. She pounded on the door even as she felt a blush creep up her neck. Thankfully, James couldn’t see her blazing cheeks as she blurted out what had happened and delivered Mr. Beauvais’s summons.
    “Right away, miss,” James said and closed the door.
    Fannie had barely gotten halfway back down the flight of stairs before he swept past her at a run, tucking in his shirt as he crossed the lawn. She was at the bottom stair when a combination of terror and relief swept over her and finally conquered her will to remain standing. Leaning against the brick wall of the carriage house, she slid down it, mindful of the sound of her sleeve ripping as she collapsed.

Shall not God search this out? for he knoweth the secrets of the heart.
    P SALM 44:21
    “There, now, little miss. It’s all right now. You’re safe. All’s well that ends well.”
    At the sound of Hannah’s soothing voice, Fannie opened her eyes. Blinked. When she raised a hand to her forehead, someone took it. Fannie turned her head. Minette. She looked about. Someone had apparently carried her into the Beauvais parlor. When she glanced down and saw deep green upholstery, she realized she was reclining on Mrs. Beauvais’s fainting couch. How appropriate. Embarrassed, she moved to sit up. Glancing across at Hannah, she asked, “Are you all right?”
    Hannah’s face crinkled up in a smile. “Fit as a fiddle and enjoying a moment of short-lived fame.” She chuckled. “Along with Jake, that is.” She nodded at the dog curled up at her feet. “It seems that an old dog and an old woman can learn new tricks, after all. Who would have thought the two of us could foil a jewel thief the authorities over in St. Louis have been after for weeks.”
    Fannie