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would perhaps contact Mr. Vernham.
    * * * *
    Harry’s head ached abominably when he awoke early in the afternoon, and as soon as he had hauled himself out of bed, he noticed with trepidation the sheet in his brother’s handwriting on the dressing table:
    Harry, was it necessary to destroy the dining saloon? I have taken William with me to Pontefract on business. We will return tomorrow afternoon. L
    Harry replaced the note with a sinking feeling as he recalled their activities of the previous night. Whether Press’s comment was an over- or understatement, he would not be able to determine until he had seen the room, but it was characteristic of his brother to make no further comment.
    When Harry’s man had shaved him and powdered his hair, assisted him into a red silk coat with enormous cuffs, and secured his cravat, Harry made his painful way to the ground floor where a footman immediately leaped forward to open the door of the breakfast parlor. Unable to face the thought of so much as a slice of toast, Harry shook his head, causing it to spin regrettably, and approached the dining saloon. Within, he found all in tidiness, except for the wall against which they had pitched at the candles. Here, there were the stains of spattered eggs, grease drippings from the candles, and smoky and scorched spots where candles had rested burning against the wall. On the huge mahogany table were piled a vast array of coins, no one having thought, in the intoxication of the moment, to retrieve his money.
    Indicating the coins with a feeble gesture, Harry said, “Distribute it among the servants who waited on us last night and cleaned up this morning. Did everyone go home last night, or are some of them still in the house?”
    “They were all seen home, sir,” the footman answered, his face impassive.
    “I’m grateful. Bring me something for my head, will you, Davis?”
    “Certainly, sir.”
    Harry slumped into a chair, neglecting even to spread the skirts of his coat, and stared miserably at the once-fine wallpaper. The damage had not been confined to a small area, as two sets of candles had eventually served as targets for so many eager participants. Luckily, the carpet did not extend to the walls, and only the oak floor had received its share of debris, which had already been cleared away. But look at it how you would, the room would have to be repapered, probably in its entirety, since it was old enough not to find a likely match. And the Dowager due in a few weeks
    Instead of the footman, the butler entered with a glass of the wicked Turkish brew on a silver tray and set it silently on the table. Harry accepted it reluctantly, but the man did not withdraw as he had expected. With a groan he asked, “What is it, Woods?”
    “After the earl and Mr. Vernham left, a note was brought around for Mr. Vernham, and when the footman was informed that he would not be here today, he went away and returned a short while later with a note for Lord Latteridge. I, of course, had to disappoint him again and he took the second note away, too.”
    “So you feel that it may be a matter of moment? Who were the notes from?”
    “It was Miss Findlay’s footman.”
    Harry knew he had recently heard the name, but his fuzzy brain would not function properly. “Who is Miss Findlay?"
    "The lady who lives next door, sir.”
    “Oh, yes, Miss Findlay.” Harry set down his empty glass carefully and rubbed a hand over his brow, attempting to at least look as though he were considering the matter with some gravity. He could think of nothing but how wretchedly his head hurt. “What would you suggest, Woods?”
    “If you will excuse my presumption, sir, I believe I would call on her to inquire if I might be of service."
    “An excellent idea. You do that.”
    For a moment the butler looked puzzled, then he said patiently, “What I meant, sir, was that you should call on her to see if you might be of service.”
    “Me!” yelped poor Harry. “What