They'd arrived that afternoon, just as she'd been rushing off to rescue the unknown gentleman; because of her useless cousins, she'd been too late to save him from Juggs's clutches.

Bristleford frowned. "If you think that's best…"

"I do. It seems obvious the gentleman was coming here to visit-presumably he was a friend of Mr. Welham's."

"I don't know, miss. The Hemmingses and I haven't been with the master long enough to know all his friends."

"Quite. No doubt Covey will know." Covey was Horatio's valet and had been with him for many years. "I take it he's not back yet?"

"No, miss. He'll be devastated."

Phyllida nodded. "I just looked in to pick up the gentleman's hat."

"Hat?" Bristleford stared. "There was no hat, miss."

Phyllida blinked. "Are you sure?"

"Nothing in the drawing room or out here." Bristleford looked around. "Perhaps in his carriage?"

Phyllida fabricated a smile. "No, no-I just assumed he must have had a hat. No cane, either?"

Bristleford shook his head.

"Well, then, I'll be off." With a nod for Appleby, who returned it politely, Phyllida walked out of the house.

She paused beneath the portico, looking out over Horatio's gorgeous garden. A chill washed down her spine.

There had been a hat-a brown one. If it didn't belong to the gentleman and hadn't been there when the Hemmingses and Bristleford discovered the body…

The chill intensified. Lifting her head, Phyllida glanced about, then walked quickly to the gate and hurried home.

The pain in his head grew worse.

Lucifer tossed and turned, struggling to escape the needles driving into his brain. Hands tried to restrain him; gentle voices tried to soothe him. He realized they wanted him to lie still-he tried, but the pain wouldn't let him.