The Description was immense, and few could afford it, but Grenville, of course, had procured the first volumes immediately on publication. He kept them in a cabinet that had been specially built for it, with shelves ready to receive the forthcoming volumes.

I flipped through the pages, admiring the artist's skills and letting myself be astonished by the exotic temples, pyramids, and statuary. Grenville had a passion for Egypt, and had been there more than once. I wondered when he would disappear from foggy London to travel there again.

I was engrossed in drawings of colossal statues depicting seated men with hands on knees when Grenville finally entered.

I looked up in surprise. I had been sitting only an hour or so, and the soiree still raged below. I had not expected him until very late.

Grenville closed the door with an air of relief. "Quite a crush."

I returned the folio to its shelf while he moved to a side table and a decanter. "Claret? I've set aside the best."

Grenville seemed in no hurry to tell me why he'd wanted to speak to me. He poured us both a glass of warm, red claret, seated himself on his favorite chair, and drank deeply.

I supposed him working up his way to confide in me, but I was too impatient with my own task to wait. I removed the silver ring from my pocket and passed it to him.

Startled, Grenville took it. "What is this?"

"Would you be able to tell me who it belonged to?"

He set aside his claret, brought out his quizzing glass, and squinted through it at the ring. "A pretty bauble. Exquisitely made." He looked up. "If one of my guests had dropped this, Lacey, you would not make a point of showing it to me. Out with it. What is the story?"

I sat back and took an unhurried sip of the claret. "It was found on the finger of a dead woman earlier this evening," I said. "On the bank of the Thames."