“Good morning, Mrs. Elsworth,” Sarah called as she reached the stoop where the old woman was sweeping.

Mrs. Elsworth looked up in apparent surprise, her wrinkled face breaking into a delighted smile. “Mrs. Brandt, don’t tell me you’ve been out all night!”

“I certainly have, delivering a fat baby girl who had made up her mind to come into the world backwards.”

“Oh, my, I hope everyone is all right.”

“Right as they can be.” Only then did Sarah realize that something wasn’t quite right with Mrs. Elsworth’s sweeping. “Were you sweeping dirt into the house?” she asked in alarm. Could the old woman be losing her mental faculties?

“Of course I was,” she replied without the slightest hesitation. “This is a new broom.” She held it up so Sarah could see that for herself. “You’ve got to sweep something into the house before you sweep anything out with it, or else all your luck will be swept out the door. Surely you knew that.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” was all Sarah could think to say.

Mrs. Elsworth needed no further encouragement. “Won’t you come in and take a bite with me? I’m sure you haven’t had breakfast, and I’ve got some fresh bread and elderberry jam that I put up last year. It’s hard to find fresh berries in the city, but Nelson got them in the country for me.” Nelson was her son who had his own accounting firm. “You can tell me all about the new baby, and oh, dear, I don’t suppose you’ve seen the papers, but someone sent a bomb to that nice gentleman, Commissioner Roosevelt.”

“A bomb?” Sarah echoed incredulously. “Are you sure? Did it explode? Was he hurt?”

“Oh, I’m quite sure. It was in the Times this morning, but it didn’t explode, thank heaven, and no one was hurt. Mr. Roosevelt didn’t even receive it. The postman discovered it, I think. I have the paper inside, so you can read it for yourself.”

Much as she would like to read the story for herself, it could wait. Right now, Sarah wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed and sleep the clock around. She was still trying to think of a gracious way to decline the invitation, however, when she saw her salvation coming down the street.

Will Yardley was walking quickly and checking back over his shoulder every few seconds, as if afraid he was being followed.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on the elderberry jam, Mrs. Elsworth. It looks like I’m getting a visitor.”

Mrs. Elsworth frowned as she stared down the street at the approaching figure. “You don’t mean that little guttersnipe, do you? What would a creature like that want with a lady like you?”

“I delivered his wife of a baby girl a few days ago.”

Mrs. Elsworth was instantly all sympathy. “Oh, my, do you suppose she’s taken ill? Childbed fever is a horrible thing. I had a sister who-”

“I remember,” Sarah said quickly, recalling all too well the story of the sister who had died of it. Mrs. Elsworth had told her about it at least a dozen times. “I’ve got to see what Mr. Yardley wants. Good morning to you!”

She hurried to meet Will at her front stoop. He nodded, tipping his cap to her before looking around again. Surely, he didn’t think anyone would have followed him to her house. But then, his conscience was probably troubled enough that he was always wary lest one of his past sins catch up with him.

“Are you going out somewheres?” he asked, not bothering with a greeting.

“Just getting home. Are Dolly and the baby all right?”

He blinked in surprise. “Sure. Why wouldn’t they be? I come because of… that other matter.” He glanced around again, as if he were afraid of eavesdroppers. “Could we go inside to talk about it? I feel funny talking on the street like this.”

Sarah hid her smile. “Of course.”

She unlocked the door and led him inside.

He looked around curiously at the room that had once been Tom’s office and which now served as hers. She still had some equipment for which she had little use, since she didn’t practice the advanced forms of medicine that Tom had, but she was loath to get rid of anything he had once owned. She’d lost too much of him already.

Will’s slender hands moved restlessly as he studied the contents of the office, tugging on his earlobe and fingering his chin and massaging his chest, as if he had to keep checking to make sure his physical self was still all there.

“So Dolly and Edith Rose are doing well?” she asked as she set down her bag and removed her hat, hanging it on a peg on the wall.

“Just fine,” he said, his eyes still taking in the curiosities around him. He seemed especially fascinated by the examining table visible behind a screen in the comer. “She said you was to see her and Rosie yesterday.”

Sarah managed not to smile. Dolly had told her he refused to call the baby Edith. “I try to check on the new mothers regularly until they’re back on their feet. Dolly said you were out when I called.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I had a job.”

Sarah could just imagine. She almost said, “In broad daylight?” but managed to restrain herself. Instead she said, “Have you found out where Hamilton Fisher is? Is that why you came?”

Will’s restless gaze touched Sarah for a moment, then darted away again. She realized he wasn’t quite as interested in her office furnishings as she had thought. Instead, he seemed to be avoiding her gaze. “I don’t know where he is, but I found out who he is,” he said. Oddly, he didn’t seem the least bit proud of this admission.

“Who is he?”

Will jammed his wandering hands into his pockets as if trying to confine them. Then he finally turned and faced her, his eyes cold and relentless. “He ain’t no cadet, least not that I could find out. He’s… well, he fancies hisself a detective.”

“He works for the police?” Sarah exclaimed.

“Not likely,” Will sneered. “He works private. For some big fancy lawyer uptown what takes care of all the nobs. He hires out and spies on folks and finds out their secrets so the lawyer can get the goods on ’em.”

This wasn’t making any sense to Sarah. Why would a lawyer’s detective be spying on Alicia? “Do you know this lawyer’s name? The one he works for, I mean?”

Will nodded once, sharply, and for a second Sarah was afraid that was all the answer she was going to get. Then he said, “Sylvester Mattingly,” through gritted teeth, as if speaking the syllables hurt him somehow.

The name sounded vaguely familiar, and Sarah supposed she had probably read it in the newspaper. “What do you know about this Mattingly?”

Will’s gaze darted away again, this time to inspect the ceiling, and his lips thinned out to a bloodless line.

“Will?” she prodded.

“I don’t know much,” he said, as if he were warning her. “I don’t deal with his kind, you understand. He’s a little above me. But from what I hear, he’s a real dangerous man to cross. Real dangerous. And they say if you’ve got enough money, this Mattingly can get you out of any kind of trouble there is.”

Any kind? Sarah wondered, remembering the kind of trouble Alicia was in, but she asked, “Even murder?”

Will’s gaze was steady and maybe a little frightened. “I wouldn’t know that, Mrs. Brandt. You’ll have to ask Mr. Mattingly.”