Crying “Woo-hoo!” she sprinted across the lobby and pirouetted at my feet as if to say, Look, Agnes, look! I found us a new friend!

I picked her up, careful to bend at the knees, and straightened just in time to see the gentleman hand the little boy a coin and dismiss him with a word or two in Arabic. “You are English, miss?” the gentleman inquired cheerily with a slight but pleasant accent.

“American,” I said.

“You must forgive my forwardness, Miss—?”

“Shanklin.”

“You see, Miss Shanklin, I had a dachshund when I was small, just the same as your—?”

“Rosie.”

“Such memories your Rosie brings me! My Tessa was just the same,” he said again, astonished by this coincidence. “Black and brown with markings just the same.” He held out his hands with a pleading look, begging for the opportunity to hold Rosie once more. Disarmed, I passed her to him, and the hussy allowed herself to be transferred without a struggle.

“She is a vamp,” the gentleman said with mock disapproval, as though reading my mind. “My Tessa was the same. But I forget my manners as well.” Rosie looked put out when he offered me the hand that had been stroking her long back. “Permit me to introduce myself, Miss Shanklin. I am Karl Weilbacher. Please,” he urged, extending an arm toward a sunny room just off the lobby. “You must allow me to buy you and Rosie some breakfast.”

This meal was included in the price of my accommodation, or it had been at the Semiramis. Uncertain if the same arrangement obtained at the Continental as well, I turned toward the desk clerk to inquire.

Herr Weilbacher must have misread my hesitation. “Please, Miss Shanklin, I assure you that my intentions are entirely honorable.”

The notion that a man’s intentions toward me were anything else seemed improbable but intriguing. I tried to think if I was properly attired for a meal in public, and yes—even preoccupied by Rosie’s fate, I’d taken time to select the longest frock Mildred had allowed me to purchase and had pulled the navy jacket on over it.