A death sentence. Denis's first commission to me had been to warn a man that his life was in danger.

I might have suspected Denis of playing a jest on me, but one look at the terror in the brigadier's eyes made me know that he, for one, took it seriously.

"Why should James Denis want to kill you?" I asked.

Easton's face was damp with sweat. "You do not know?"

"I told you, I was directed to hand you the message, that is all. I know nothing about it."

Easton got to his feet again, fists on the desk. "I must ask you to leave, Captain."

"Tell me what this is about, and I might be able to help you."

"I will make it an order."

I set my feet, my hand firm on my walking stick. I was twice the brigadier's size and the creaking butler who'd answered the door would be no match for me.

"Neither of us are in the army any longer," I said. "I advise you to get away from here. Denis was polite enough to give you a warning, perhaps even a sporting chance. I would take it."

"Yes." The brigadier nodded, swallowing. "I must… prepare my carriage."

"And have Denis or one of his pugilists accost you on a lonely road? You have an ocean at your disposal. A boat to France or the Netherlands is what I'd advise."

"A boat." Easton's eyes focused a bit, and he looked around his study. "If I leave, I can never return. My wife…"

"Where is your wife?"

"Visiting my daughter and grandchildren. In Kent."

"Let her stay there. You go, and I will talk to Denis. Send no word to your wife or daughter, in case he intercepts it. Send a message when you're safe-not to your wife or to me, but to Lucius Grenville in London. I will see that your family receives it."