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looked startled. ‘Good heavens! This sounds most melodramatic! Is he a Respectable Individual, Meadows?’
    ‘I should say he was in one of the Trades, my lord. He was, I will say, very respectful,’ replied Meadows.
    ‘Very well, Meadows. Send this mysterious person in,’ instructed Darleston.
    He sat back to await his visitor, agog with curiosity.
    He had not long to wait before a respectably dressed man of about forty stood before him. ‘Good afternoon, Mr…er?’
    The man said slowly, ‘If your lordship will not be offended I’d be better pleased to leave names out of it for now. I will only say that I am employed by the Gazette as an editor. A couple of hours ago one of my boys brought this to me.’ He held up a note with a broken seal.
    ‘Go on, then,’ said Darleston encouragingly. ‘I assure you I am listening.’
    ‘Well, my lord, the lad is very sharp, and he said the lady who delivered it seemed very upset and kept on asking odd questions about how we verified the accuracy of notices and suchlike. Almost as if she wanted to warn the boy! He took the money and gaveher a receipt, but then he got worried and brought it in and told me the whole story. So when I read the notice I thought I’d just come along and check with you. Read it for yourself my lord.’ He held out the note across the desk.
    Darleston opened it and was at once aware of a very familiar scent which clung to it. He read the note and his brows contracted sharply. His visitor blenched as he looked up and asked in freezing accents, ‘Did the lad describe the lady?’
    ‘He did, my lord. He said she was quite old, maybe fifty or even sixty. Dressed very plain. Gave him a shilling, which he didn’t want to take on account of he didn’t think she looked as if she’d have too many shillings, despite being a lady, which he reckoned she was.’
    Darleston was silent for a moment, then he said, ‘I am much obliged to you and the lad. This notice has not my authority, and I will be further obliged if you will keep it to yourselves that it ever crossed your desk.
    ‘Begging your pardon, my lord, but there’s no question of the lad or myself saying a word to anyone about this!’ said the man.
    ‘Good! I am more grateful than ever, and while I realise that you are a man of integrity and did not come with the idea of a reward, I beg that you will accept something. If not for yourself then for the lad.’ So saying, Darleston reached into a drawer in his desk and drew out a roll of soft. He peeled off several notes and held them out. ‘As I said, you are a fellow of honour. You will divide this fairly between yourself and the lad.’
    His visitor flushed as he accepted the money andsaid, ‘I’ll take it for the boy, my lord. Not for myself, thanking you kindly. Well, I’ll be going, then. I take it you’ll know how best to deal with the matter. I…I wish you luck! No, don’t ring that bell. Your butler makes me nervous!’
    He departed quickly, leaving the angriest man in London behind him.
    Darleston strode over to the fire which was burning in the grate and cast the note into its flames. He watched it burn for a moment and then went back to his desk. ‘Thank God for Lucy Jameson!’ he said to himself.
    He penned a brief note and then rang the bell. When Meadows came in response he handed him the note and spoke abruptly. ‘Be so good as to have that delivered to Lady Caroline Daventry immediately. That will be all.’
    Meadows took the note and left the room without a word.
    Darleston left his mansion in Grosvenor Square shortly after ten o’clock that evening, clad in the satin knee-breeches and swallow-tailed coat which proclaimed his destination was a ball.
    A footman, springing to open the door of the waiting town carriage, and being rewarded with a curt nod, wondered what had happened to put the master in such a temper. Generally he was pleasant enough, if rather aloof. This evening, however, the expression on his face was