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on Sixth Avenue and Twenty-eighth Street, and she returned two hours later with a carful of beautiful asters, and fragrant lilies. She was determined to fill the house with the flowers he loved for her father's arrival two days later.
    Dustcovers were pulled off and put away, rooms were aired, beds were turned topsy-turvy, mattresses were flipped over, carpets were beaten.
    It took an army to do it, but by the following afternoon, Bertie and Olivia met in the kitchen for a cup of tea, and smiled at what they'd accomplished. The chandeliers were sparkling, some of the furniture had been rearranged until rooms were barely recognizable, and Olivia had pulled all of the heavy curtains back in order to let more light in.
    "Your father will be very pleased, " Bertie congratulated her as they poured a second cup of tea, and Olivia made a note to herself to see about getting tickets to the theater. There were several new plays opening, and she and Victoria had vowed to see all of them before they went back to Croton-on-Hudson. But thinking of that made her wonder where her sister was. She hadn't seen her since early that morning, when Victoria had said she was going to the Low Library at Columbia, and the Metropolitan Museum. It was a long way, and Olivia had offered to send Petrie with her, but Victoria had insisted on taking the streetcar.
    She preferred the adventure. And after that, Olivia had completely forgotten her, until now when she began getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
    "Do you suppose Father will mind all the furniture we moved? " Olivia asked distractedly, hoping that Bertie wouldn't detect her growing worry. Olivia's back was aching from all they had done in the past two days, but she didn't feel it now as she began to worry about her sister.
    She always had an instinctive sense about her, and knew without fail when Victoria was in trouble. It was something they each had, and had often talked about. It was a special kind of warning device that told each of them when the other was either sick or in trouble. And Olivia wasn't sure what it was telling her this time, but she knew that she was getting some kind of a signal.
    "Your father is going to be so happy to see the house like this, " Bertie reassured her again, seemingly unaware of Olivia's growing discomfort. "You must be exhausted."
    "Actually, I am, " Olivia confessed uncharacteristically, just so she could go to her room, and think for a moment. It was four o'clock in the afternoon, and Victoria had left the house shortly after nine o'clock that morning. Just thinking about it made Olivia panic, and berate herself for not insisting on sending someone with her. This was not Croton-on-Hudson.
    Her sister was young and well dressed, and obviously inexperienced in dealing with big cities. What if she'd been attacked, or kidnapped?
    The thought didn't even bear thinking. But as Olivia paced her room, worrying, she heard the phone ring, and knew instinctively it was her sister. She flew toward the only phone they had, in the upstairs hall, and grabbed it before anyone else could answer.
    "Hello? " she said breathlessly, sure that it would be Victoria, and instantly disappointed when it was an unknown male voice. Olivia was sure it was a wrong number "Is this the Henderson residence? " the voice asked in an Irish brogue, as Olivia frowned. They didn't know anyone in New York, and Olivia couldn't imagine who was calling.
    "It is. Who's calling? " she said firmly, feeling her hand tremble as she held the earpiece in one hand, and the speaker in the other.
    "Is this Miss Henderson? " he asked in resounding tones, as Olivia nodded, and then answered.
    "Yes, it is. Who is this? " she insisted.
    "This is Sergeant O"Shaunessy at the Fifth Precinct, " he said firmly, and Olivia held her breath and closed her eyes, knowing what was coming before he said it.
    "I .. . is she all right? .. ." It was barely a whisper.
    What if she'd been injured? Kicked by a horse