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about.”
    Mary sighed, with distinct overtones of relief. “I was hoping you would say that. Well, what do we do?”
    â€œWe need a battle plan,” Nan said firmly, as Grey nodded and Neville
quorked
his agreement. “This is no ordinary haunt. Memsa’b was certain it was something that had been bound there. So the first thing we do—”
    â€œIs our research,” put in John Watson, putting down his pipe unlit and looking more than ready for the task.
    â€œPreeeee-cisely,” said Grey.

2

    T HIS was the first time that Nan and Sarah had been inside the Exeter Club. Mind, not even the patronage of Lord Alderscroft was going to get them into the sacred precincts of the “public” rooms, but he did arrange to smuggle the girls and Mary Watson up to the Hunting Lodge’s archive room on the top floor via the servants’ stairs. It was not the first time Nan and Sarah had made use of such a thing, and Nan was certain it would not be the last. Unlike the lushly carpeted, wide stairs used by the (exclusively male) members of the club, the servants’ stairs were narrow, just painted wood without any carpet, and the treads themselves were narrow, poorly lit, and drafty. Had any of the three women been wearing fashionable gowns, they’d likely have trodden on each other’s hems and probably killed each other in the subsequent tumble down the stairs. Fortunately Mary Watson was as fond of Ladies’ Rational Dress as Nan and Sarah were, so they all climbed to the archives without mishap. John Watson, bless him, declined Lord Alderscroft’s invitation to ascend via the “proper” stairs and came with them. Nan was glad he had, since if any of them
did
take a tumble, he was probably ready to catch them.
    So, here they were, in a miniature library the size of the Watsons’sitting room, meticulously catalogued and cross-referenced, a compendium of everything about Elemental Magic that eight generations of Elemental Masters in London had managed to compile. It was a beautiful room, as suited the Hunting Lodge of London; the bookcases probably dated to the founding of the Club and were substantial Georgian items, no-nonsense, sturdy articles the color of dark honey. They were not glass fronted; having glass doors would have prevented them from being set as closely together as they were.
    â€œThere’s more books on Elemental Magic than we have here, of course,” Lord Alderscroft said, as they wedged their way among the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves holding untold treasures. “There are all manner of handwritten books, passed down through the gifted families all over this country. And every time we can get someone to part with one long enough to make a copy, we do. But I would reckon there’s ten times the number of books on magic and chronicles of Elemental Masters that we’ve no notion of out there than there is in here. And that’s a conservative estimate.” He led them to one particular set of shelves. “Fortunately, what we want and need is all right here.” He indicated a line of books. “The Chronicles of the Hunting Lodge of the Exeter Club going back to its founding, before there even was an Exeter Club. I would suggest starting no later than 1650. Berkeley House was built in 1698, as I recall. There may have been strange activity at the site of that house before it was built.”
    â€œThat sounds like a very sound plan,” John agreed. “Thank you, Lord Alderscroft.” They gathered up the books and took them to a table matching the bookcases at the front of the room, where they spread out their treasures. There was very good gas lighting here, which was just as well, since there was only one window.
The more room for books, I suppose,
Nan thought.
    His Lordship merely smiled as they took their seats at the table. “You need not thank me. This is precisely why I brought you all together,