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actually. But there were others. Cornelia was his first—she died. Then he took up with a lady called Pompeia. He divorced her. Not all Caesar’s wives behaved as Caesar’s wife ought. It was she who gave rise to the famous quotation that ‘Caesar’s wife must be above suspicion.’ In any case, your father had a fondness for that charming wench, Cleopatra. Our Cleopatra is true to her Caesar, even when he is away on an extended race.”
    “Why does Caesar have a tree, when none of the other birds have?”
    “Because he wants one, and when you are a Caesar, you get what you want. I believe he has a strain of nutmeg pigeon in him. They are arboreal, and solitary for choice. Caesar gets his large size and stamina from his papa , and his pretty coppery-green feathers and red feet from his mama. She was a Ducula Aenea. They have a pair of offspring, young Sextus and Aurelia. Family names of the Caesars,” he added. “Your father hoped to have them officially declared Humes. When a fancier has bred a new strain, he may have it named after him. More than a hundred men have already had the honor. And also a few ladies, incidentally. The Duchess of Prescott would be angry with me if I neglected to mention her triumph.”
    This potential honor was quite effective in convincing me to keep the loft. I had no aversion to being in the company of duchesses. “What was she like, the duchess?” I asked, as the chance might never rise again, and I was becoming curious about this lady.
    “A hotheaded beauty,” he replied, with a fond smile. No doubt he saw the suspicion in my eyes, for he hastened to add, “A great charmer in her day, I believe. She was nudging fifty when I left Wiltshire.”
    “Why did you leave, Snoad?”
    “I had a touch of lung trouble. The doctor recommended sea air. The duchess had heard of your father’s flock, and recommended me to him. And that is the not very exciting story of how I came to Gracefield, to help your father breed Caesar and Cleo.”
    “Did the duchess have any daughters?” I asked, with an air of casualness.
    “Three married daughters, scattered about here and there. Why do you ask?” he said. A smile quirked his lips.
    “Idle curiosity.”
    I had learned what I wished to know. Snoad was not the man to waste his charms on a fifty-year - old lady, and the daughters were not at home. “Do Sextus and Aurelia show promise?”
    “Sextus promises to outperform his father. Aurelia, we felt, would be used for further breeding. From both appearance and performance, I expect your father would have succeeded in establishing his own strain . ”
    “Well, I shall think about keeping the birds, Snoad. I enjoyed our visit.”
    “I hope you will come again soon, Miss Hume.” His hand made an involuntary move toward mine. He stopped it before our hands touched, but we were both conscious of the gesture. It lent an air of embarrassment to our parting.
    “I shall be away for a few days, as you know,” I mentioned.
    “Yes—about that visit. Rememberwhat I said. Be careful.”
    “What do you think might happen?”
    He studied me a moment before speaking. “I don’t know. I only know your father was murdered, and now you are going to the same place where he was killed. Until we learn why he was shot, I am concerned for your safety.”
    “It is very unsettling,” I said. Then before either of us said more, I removed his coat, and left.
    Snoad watched me go. “Thank you for the watch, Miss Hume,” he called after me.
    “You’re welcome. Good night, Mr. Snoad.”
    It was not until I was downstairs that I noticed I had called him Mr. Snoad. Whatever possessed me to give him the dignity of that “Mr.,” when I had been calling him Snoad for years? It was his conversation, so surprisingly cultured. Who would have thought Snoad knew about Julius Caesar, and Shakespeare? He spoke like an educated man. I found myself wondering how he had been treated at Branksome Hall. I also searched my mind