“Not what. Whom.” Baxter pulled off his cravat and ran a finger around his starched collar. “Another young girl, brutally slain. It’s disgusting. You’d think Scotland Yard could have caught the scoundrel by now.”

Cecily felt a shiver of fear. “Oh, dear. You’re talking about London’s latest serial killer.”

“I am, indeed.” Baxter sank heavily onto the bed. “He’s got most of the city terrified out of their wits.”

“Are they so sure it’s a serial killer? Couldn’t it just be more than one murderer?”

“Unlikely. The victims are all young women and all similar in appearance. The trademark of a serial killer. Not only that, with each victim the murderer has left a memento behind.”

“Memento?”

“Yes. You know, the sort of badge that distinguishes him as the perpetrator of the crime.”

Cecily shuddered. “As if he’s proud of his gruesome handiwork.”

“He usually is,” Baxter muttered darkly.

“So what kind of memento is he leaving?”

“No one knows. Scotland Yard refuses to disclose a description. They call him the Mayfair Murderer. Apparently all the bodies have been found on or close by Savile Row.”

“Good heavens.” She sat up. “That is a very nice part of town. Whatever is the city coming to, harboring a murderer in such a respectable area?”

“Which makes one wonder what it was about that place the killer hated so much.” The clip-clop of horses’ hooves and the rumble of carriage wheels outside caught his attention. He rose and walked over to the window. “Looks as if some more guests are arriving.”

“Most of them are here now.” Cecily leaned forward and dabbed at her nose with her powder puff. “The honeymoon couple arrived first. Geoffrey and Caroline Danville. They are such a precious couple and so obviously in love. The very first thing they did was kiss under the kissing bough. Just so adorable.”

Baxter raised his eyebrows. “Kissing bough?”