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descendent of a once-powerful aristocratic family whose properties and finances had been sadly depleted by a long line of wastrels and rakehells. Endowed with a steely will and a great talent for business, Wilson had devoted himself to rebuilding the family for-tunes. He had succeeded beyond anyone's wildest expectations only to lose the very reasons that had inspired him: his beloved wife and two children.
    Brokenhearted, Wilson had devoted himself to building an even larger empire. He had lost himself in the arcane machinations of his far-flung enterprises in England and on the Continent. On several occasions over the years, the long-reaching tentacles of the Grendon empire had proved useful to Her Majesty's government.
    Wilson's agents and employees abroad often picked up rumors and information concerning clandestine intrigues and foreign plots. That sort of thing was passed along to the Crown, which, in turn, sometimes took advantage of the Grendon connections to send secret diplomatic messages.
    The informal arrangement had continued after Adam had become involved in Wilson's business affairs, hence the occasional breakfast conversation concerning murder and mischief. For Adam, it all came under the heading of business; a natural extension of the career he had pursued while making his living on the streets. Information was a commodity, just like everything else. It could be bought, stolen, traded or sold.
    Much in his world had changed fourteen years ago when he and Julia and Jessica and Nathan had moved into Wilson's big, lonely mansion in Laxton Square , but the way he made his living was not one of them, he reflected.
    Society was under the impression that he and the other three were long-lost relatives of Wilson's. According to the story Grendon had put about, the family connection had been fortuitously discovered by his solicitor while going through some old papers. Wilson had immediately located the four young people, taken them into his household and made them his heirs.
    Some portions of the tale were certainly true, Adam mused. He and Julia and Jessica and Nathan were, indeed, Wilson's heirs. But the relationship between the five of them was a good deal more murky and convoluted than anyone in the Polite World imagined.
    While he had turned over much of the day-to-day operations of his financial empire to Adam in the past few y ears, Wilson was still as astute and cunning as he had always been. Because he was no longer required to apply his considerable abilities to his business affairs, he had a great deal of free time to work on other projects, such as maneuvering Adam into marriage.
    "I can see that you are determined to press on with your search for the diary," Wilson said. "How do you intend to proceed?"
    Adam reached for the silver coffeepot. "On my way home this morning I recalled that one of your old friends Prittlewell was fascinated by psychical research for a time recently."
    Wilson snorted. "Prittlewell and everyone else in Society. I tell you, it is nothing less than astounding to see so many seemingly reasonable, educated people toss aside all common sense and natural skepticism when a medium levitates a table. I blame it on the Americans, of course. Whole thing started on the Other Side."
    "The Other Side?"
    "Of the Atlantic." Wilson snorted. "The Fox sisters with their rappings and tappings, the Davenports with their cabinet séances, D. D. Home—"
    Adam frowned. "I thought Home was born in Scotland." "He may have been born there but he was raised in America."
    "I see," Adam said dryly. "I suppose that explains it." "Indeed. As I was saying, this isn't the first nonsense imported from America and it likely won't be the last" "Yes, sir. But my point is that your friend Prittlewell no doubt picked up some gossip and rumors concerning the community of mediums while he was attending séances and lectures on psychical research."
    "Very likely. What of it?"
    "I wondered if you might make some casual