The lady might have been pretty once, but too many years of rich food, late mornings, and childbirth had etched their memories onto her face and body. Her large bosom, stuffed into a satin bodice and reinforced with bands of lace, quivered with her misery.

I took two steps into the room, checked myself, and turned to go.

"Captain Lacey?"

I halted, bowed, and admitted to be he. I had no memory of who she was.

The woman swiped at her wet cheeks with a handkerchief so tiny she might as well not have bothered. "May I make so bold as to speak to you? Mr. Grenville said you might assist me."

Had he, indeed? Grenville was apt to volunteer my services, as I'd been of some use in solving problems that ran from innocuous misunderstandings all the way to violent murders.

I ought to have walked away then and there and not let myself be drawn into the whole sordid business. I was tired and quite drunk and had no reason to believe that I could help this sorrowful lady.

But her red-rimmed eyes were so pleading, her wretchedness so true, that I found myself giving her another bow and telling her to proceed.

"It is my maid, you see."

I braced myself for an outpouring of domestic troubles. My head started to pound, and I sank into the nearest comfortable chair.

"She is going to be hanged," the lady announced.

Chapter Two

Her blunt statement swept the fog from my brain. I sat up straight as several facts clicked into place.

"You are Lady Clifford," I said.

She nodded, dejected.

"I read of it in the newspaper this morning," I said. "Your maid has been accused of stealing a diamond necklace worth several thousand pounds." The maid was even now awaiting examination by the Bow Street magistrate.

Lady Clifford sat forward and clasped her doughy hands. "She did not take it, Captain. That horrible Bow Street Runner said so, but I know Waters would never have done such a thing. She's been with me for years. Why should she?"