Raising his voice to cover the comment, Winterby said, "Come into my house for a brandy while the magistrate is summoned."

"Thank you, but since I live just ahead in the square, I'd rather go home. The magistrate can interview me there."

He took a last look at the bodies of the two men who had tried to kill him. What a strange life he lived, where forgotten business from the past might surface and destroy him at any moment. If Mirkin hadn't felt the need to explain himself, Lucien would be the one lying on the cold stones.

Wearily he turned toward Hanover Square, accompanied by one of Winterby's footmen carrying a lantern. The attack was a forcible reminder that it was time to address some unfinished business. Harry Mirkin had been only an instrument in the hands of another, more powerful figure, an agent of Napoleon who had worked against Britain for years. Mentally, Lucien had dubbed him the Phantom, for he had been as elusive as a ghost, always staying in the background while he worked his mischief.

After Napoleon's abdication in the spring, Lucien had concentrated on monitoring the treacherous undercurrents that swirled around the Congress of Vienna. That work had been more urgent than finding the Phantom, but the Congress was proceeding well, and the time had come to destroy the spy whose activities had prolonged the war and might complicate the peace.

Where to begin? There had been hints that the Phantom was a well-born Englishman, quite possibly someone known to Lucien himself. He would evaluate what little evidence he had, add a dash of instinct, and devise a plan to capture the traitor.

As Lucien climbed the steps to his house, he gave an ironic, self-mocking smile. Even a phantom could not evade Lucifer.

Chapter 3

The time was ripe for burglary. The male guests of Bourne Castle were downstairs drinking and boasting, their valets similarly engaged in the servants' quarters, and Kit Travers was as ready as she'd ever be.