Sharpe muttered something under his breath, but he chose one of the stiff-looking chairs near Frank and perched on it. “What do you want to know?”

Frank reached into his coat and pulled out his notebook and pencil and made a little show out of finding the right page. He could hear Sharpe making impatient noises, but he didn’t allow himself to be hurried.

“When you went into the séance room, did you see anybody except the people sitting around the table?”

“Of course not.” This was a stupid question, and now he was annoyed.

“Did you see the Professor before the séance started?”

“Of course. He answered the door when I arrived and showed me into the parlor, just as he always does.”

“Did you see him after that?”

Sharpe frowned. “I saw him after the séance, when we realized Mrs. Gittings was dead.”

“But not before that?” Frank prodded. “Didn’t he escort you into the séance room?”

“I’m sure he did,” Sharpe said, fuming. “That was his usual practice.”

“But are you sure he did that day?”

Sharpe frowned, disturbed that Frank was making him think about all of this again. “I couldn’t swear to it, no,” he finally admitted.

“And later, when did he come into the room?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t paying any attention to him.”

“You said he was standing in the doorway when everyone started leaving the room.”

“Then that must have been when I saw him.” He was growing exasperated now.

“So you didn’t see him until after Madame Serafina opened the door and called for him?”

“No, I didn’t. I don’t see what any of this has to do with-”

“Do you remember hearing a violin playing during the séance?”

“A what?”

“A violin. Some of the other people in the room remember hearing a strange noise during the séance, like a violin.”

Sharpe frowned again, trying to remember. “I think there was something. The spirits often make odd sounds. I was listening to what Yellow Feather was saying, so I wasn’t paying attention to anything else.”

“Do you remember if you heard the noise through the whole séance?”

“No, I don’t, and I can’t see that any of this will help you find that boy who killed Mrs. Gittings.”

“Madame Serafina said you’d been to lots of spiritualists before you came to her.”

Sharpe stiffened in surprise. “What business is that of yours?”

“None,” Frank admitted obligingly. “I was just wondering if you’d figured out some of the tricks they use. A lot of them are fakes, you know.”

“I certainly do know,” Sharpe said indignantly. “You wouldn’t believe the balderdash some of them told me.”

“Did they try to pull tricks on you, too?”

“Oh, yes. Knocking and table rocking and floating spirits. Parlor tricks, all of it.”

“But not Madame Serafina,” Frank said.

“No, she didn’t stoop to using any of those things.” Frank wasn’t going to argue with the man. “And I guess she couldn’t do any tricks with people holding her hands like that during the séance.”

“Oh, she could have if she’d wanted to,” Sharpe said knowingly. “They all make their clients hold each other’s wrists, but it’s easy enough to get a hand free in the dark.”

So Sharpe did know that trick. “But you don’t think Madame Serafina did that?”

“I can’t think why she would have to,” Sharpe said confidently.

“Madame Serafina told me you wanted her to leave Mrs. Gittings so you could keep her,” Frank said, catching him off guard.

He’d deliberately made it sound disreputable, and Sharpe instantly took offense. His face flooded with color. “Watch your tongue,” he ordered Frank. “Madame Serafina is a respectable young woman, and I had no intention of ‘keeping’ her, as you so crudely put it. I wanted to provide an establishment for her so she could use her talents without having to worry about supporting herself.”

“What’s wrong with supporting herself?” Frank asked innocently.

Plainly, Sharpe thought it was very wrong. “She was… That woman was taking advantage of her, turning her talent into a carnival sideshow.”

Frank supposed that Sharpe had no idea Serafina used to tell fortunes on street corners, which was probably a step or two below carnival sideshows. “What did Mrs. Gittings say when you told her you wanted to take Madame Serafina away?”

Sharpe’s eyes narrowed in remembered fury. “She wouldn’t believe that I was only interested in Madame Serafina’s spiritual talents. She thought… Well, she thought I wanted her for immoral purposes, and she said some very rude things.”

“Was she willing to let the girl go for a price?” Frank asked, remembering what the Gittings woman had offered Cunningham.

“Absolutely not. She was getting rich from the business, and she wasn’t going to let Madame Serafina go.”

Frank nodded. Sharpe could probably easily afford to meet the price she’d quoted Cunningham, and he wouldn’t have fallen for some phony investment scheme. No, he would be far more dangerous, so she’d have to refuse him outright. “Didn’t you try to convince Madame Serafina to leave her anyway?”

“Of course I did, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She said she owed everything to Mrs. Gittings, and she couldn’t leave her.”

“That’s touching,” Frank observed, earning a glare from Sharpe.

“Touching or not, she refused my offer, and nothing I said could convince her.”

“You were sitting right next to Mrs. Gittings at the séance, weren’t you?”

Instantly, Sharpe was back on guard again. “I already told you that.”

“Did you notice anything strange during the séance?”

“Do you mean did I know someone stabbed her to death?” he replied sarcastically. “No, I did not.”

“She didn’t cry out or jerk or squeeze your arm or-”

“No, I told you. I didn’t notice anything until she let go of my wrist and fell to the floor.”

“And you’re sure nobody else was in the room besides the people at the table?”

“No,” Sharpe said, annoyed again. “I told you, no one else was there.”

“Then how do you think the boy killed her, if he wasn’t in the room?” Frank asked with a puzzled frown.

Sharpe gaped at him in surprise. “I… The Professor said… I suppose he must have gotten in somehow,” he tried.

“How?” Frank asked, genuinely curious. “Was it a parlor trick, do you think?”

“No, of course not,” Sharpe said impatiently.

“Then how did he do it? Everybody said no one was in the room when they got there, and no one could come in by the door without everyone seeing him. So how did he get in to kill her? You see, that’s the first thing they’ll ask at his trial, and I have to have an answer.”

Sharpe rubbed his forehead as if it ached. “I don’t… He must have been hiding somewhere.”

“Where?” Frank asked with interest.

“I… In the cabinet,” he finally remembered. “He could have been hiding in there.”

“Didn’t you check it when you came into the room?” Frank asked.

“No, why should I?” Sharpe asked, defensive now. “I told you, Madame Serafina never used cheap parlor tricks.”

“Is that what the cabinet is for, parlor tricks?”

“I have no idea,” he insisted.

“Why was it there, then?”

Sharpe sighed in exasperation. “Some spiritualists use them. They climb inside and ask someone to tie them up. Then when the so-called spirits appear, everyone thinks they must be real because the spiritualist is tied up inside the cabinet.”

“Are you saying this is some kind of trick?”

“Naturally it’s a trick. The spiritualist knows how to hold her hands in such a way that even the tightest knots will fall off when she relaxes them. Then she is free to move around the room in the dark during the séance and pretend to be a spirit. Sometimes they even pretend to materialize and let everyone see them. And when the séance is over, they find the spiritualist still securely tied up in the cabinet because she’s slipped the ropes back on.”