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speculation."
    "Indeed." Henry glanced down at his notes. "According to the facts that I was able to learn, Renwick
    Deveridge was alone in his house late at night when a housebreaker entered. The villain shot Deveridge
    dead, set a fire to conceal the murder, and made off with the valuables."
    "But no one in Society really believes that is what happened."
    "It was no secret that Deveridge was estranged from his spouse. Mrs. Deveridge had moved out of the
    house within weeks of the marriage. She refused to return to live with her husband as man and wife."
    Henry paused to clear his throat. "She is said to be somewhat, ah, headstrong."
    "Yes. I can vouch for that." Artemas tapped the letter opener against his boot. "What can you tell me
    about the unfortunate husband?"
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    Henry's bushy gray brows bunched together as he consulted his notes. "Very little, I'm afraid. As you
    know, his name was Renwick Deveridge. No family that I could discover. He appears to have spent
    some time abroad on the Continent during the war."
    "What of it?" Artemas gave him a knowing look. "So did you."
    Henry cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I think it safe to say he was not gadding about spying on Napoleon.
    In any event, Deveridge returned to London approximately two years ago. He made the acquaintance of
    Winton Reed and soon afterward became engaged to Reed's daughter. Madeline Reed and Deveridge
    were married a short time later."
    "Not a long engagement."
    "They were, in fact, married by special license." Henry rattled his papers in a disapproving manner. "As I
    noted, the lady is said to be somewhat rash and impetuous. As it transpired, within two months of the
    wedding night Deveridge was dead and the gossip began to circulate that she had murdered him."
    "Deveridge must have proved a very disappointing husband indeed."
    "In point of fact," Henry said deliberately, "there was talk that, before Deveridge was so conveniently
    dispatched, Mrs. Deveridge's father, Winton Reed, had instructed his solicitor to make inquiries about
    the possibility of an annulment or formal separation."
    "An annulment." Artemas tossed the letter opener onto the desk. He sat forward abruptly. "Are you
    certain?"
    "As certain as I can be with the limited facts at hand. Given the great difficulty and expense of obtaining a
    divorce, an annulment, although time-consuming, no doubt seemed the simpler approach."
    "But hardly a flattering one for Renwick Deveridge. There are very few grounds for an annulment, after
    all. In this instance I would assume that the only ones that would apply would have involved an
    accusation of impotence against Deveridge."
    "Indeed." Henry cleared his throat again.
    Artemas reminded himself that Henry was something of a prude when it came to matters of physical
    intimacy. "But even with the aid of skilled solicitors, it would have taken years for Mrs. Deveridge to
    establish a case for impotence."
    "Undoubtedly. The assumption of nearly everyone in the Polite World is that she lacked the patience to
    go through the legal proceedings." Henry paused. "Or perhaps she discovered that her father could not
    afford the cost."
    "So she took steps to end the marriage in her own fashion, is that it?"
    "That is certainly how the gossips would have it."
    Artemas had seen enough of her last night to know that she was a lady of formidable determination. If
    she had been truly desperate to end her marriage, would she have gone so far as to murder Deveridge?
    "You said Renwick Deveridge was shot before the fire was set? "
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    "According to the doctor who examined the body, yes."
    Artemas rose and went to stand at the window. "I must tell you that last night Mrs. Deveridge displayed
    a certain expertise with pistols."
    "Humph. Hardly the sort of skill that is suited to a lady."
    Artemas smiled to himself as he