"I'm sure all is well, Mrs. Plummer."

But he knew that he was lying to both of them. THIRTY-EIGHT

Caroline drifted back to full awareness a long time later.

She opened her eyes and stared at the night-shadowed ceiling while she mentally assessed her physical condition.

The nausea had disappeared, she noted.

She sat up cautiously and abruptly recalled that Reed had placed her on a bed. A fresh wave of fear choked her so that she could not breathe. What had happened to her while she had been sailing in that gray fog?

Frantic, she scrambled to her feet beside the large bed. An overwhelming sense of relief descended when she felt the familiar weight of her skirts and petticoats fall into place around her legs. She was still fully dressed. Her stockings were neatly gartered and her drawers were fastened, just as they had been when she had left home. That was reassuring.

She forced herself to give the matter close thought, summoning up memories from the eerie twilight world in which she had been drifting. She would know if Reed had assaulted her, she thought. She had not been rendered completely unconscious by the drugged tea, most likely because she had consumed only a few sips. Indeed, she had a hazy recollection of the oddly decorous manner in which Reed had placed her on the bed. He had even taken time to arrange her skirts modestly around her ankles before he had left her in this room.

She turned on her heel, examining the shadowy chamber. She had to get out of here before Reed returned.

She crossed first to the door and tried it in the vain hope that it was not locked. But of course it was.

Faint, muffled sounds of activity came from somewhere far below. Music played in the distance. The reception for Julian Elsworth had begun.

She hurried to the window and saw at once that it had been nailed shut. Through the tiny panes of leaded glass she could see the vast expanse of the empty gardens at the back of the big house. Moonlight reflected off the light fog.

It was a long way down, she noticed, dismayed. The room in which she was trapped was evidently on the top floor of the old mansion.

Shouting for help would be useless. Given the thick walls and the commotion on the ground floor, no one would be able to hear her.

She turned slowly back around to examine the room in detail. There was enough light coming from the moonlit fog to reveal the bed, a wardrobe and a chair. There were no lamps or candles visible in the chamber.

She crossed to the wardrobe and opened it, expecting to find it empty. Shock reverberated through her when she caught sight of the unmistakable sheen of white satin.

She pulled the old-fashioned gown out of the wardrobe and held it up to get a better look at the bodice. Recognition jolted through her.

Sarah Reed's wedding dress.

The long, lacy veil was neatly folded on one of the wardrobe shelves. It was matted with dried blood. She found the black enameled mourning brooch in a drawer together with a pair of white gloves.

Sooner or later Reed would return. She had to come up with a plan. The word that Adam had used once or twice to describe the various twists and turns in his investigation came back to her. He had said something about it being the oldest and most reliable trick in the world.

Distraction.

THIRTY-NINE

Adam looked at Elsworth, who sat on the opposite side of the carriage, dressed in formal evening attire.

"I require a distraction," Adam said. "You will provide it. I doubt that anyone is more skilled in such matters."

"I shall take that as a compliment" Elsworth adjusted his white bow tie. "But bear in mind that even the most accomplished practitioner can succeed only if the audience is a willing participant in the game. I cannot be responsible for what might happen if Reed walks out of my performance and discovers you searching his mansion."

"You attend to your role" Adam patted his jacket, feeling for the familiar shape of the knife sheath. "I shall take care of mine"

"Very well." Elsworth smoothed his gloves, collected his overcoat and got out of the hansom. He hesitated. "Believe it or not, I wish you luck, Hardesty. I must admit I have grown rather fond of Mrs. Fordyce's work. I would hate to miss the ending of The Mysterious Gentleman."

"In that case, make certain that you give the most compelling performance of your career this evening, Elsworth."

Elsworth inclined his head, turned and walked away to-ward the lights of the big mansion.

If Reed had Caroline, which now seemed the most likely possibility, he would have hidden her somewhere in that old mausoleum of a house, Adam thought.

There was another possibility, of course, but he would not allow himself to consider it. For the past hour he had been assuring himself that Reed would not kill Caroline, at least not before he had used her for whatever strange purpose he intended. With all of the excitement related to the reception tonight and Elsworth's latest demonstration of psychic powers, presumably Reed had not had time to carry out his plans.

Adam waited until he saw the medium go up the steps and disappear into the brightly lit front hall of the Society's headquarters. Then he got out of the cab, tipped the driver and moved into the shadows of a nearby alley.

From that position he took another look at Wintersett House. The contrast between the well-illuminated windows of the ground floor and the ominous darkness that oozed from the upper floors chilled his soul.

Caroline was up there somewhere. He could feel it. He went swiftly down the dank alley.

When he emerged at the far end, the high stone barrier that enclosed the mansion's gardens loomed directly ahead in the foggy darkness.

It had been a few years since he had last climbed a gar-den wall. He was relieved to discover that he had not lost the knack.

Without a stiff crinoline to shape the gown into the wide bell that had been fashionable ten years earlier, the skirts of Sarah Reed's wedding dress hung limp and overlong around Caroline's feet.

But a crinoline cage would not only have been dangerously unwieldy, it would have taken up far too much space and given away her hiding place, she thought. She would never have been able to conceal herself inside the wardrobe.

She had left the doors of the large wardrobe slightly ajar. Through the crack, she had a clear view of the bed-chamber door and a portion of the four-poster bed. When Reed returned she would have to time her escape with exquisite care if she was to have any chance at all.

It seemed to her that she had been trapped in the wardrobe for eons but she knew that, in reality, she had been there for only an hour at most. She dared not move. There was simply no way to know when Reed would return.

Standing in the close confines of the wardrobe was taking a toll on both her nerves and her stamina. She had re-covered from the worst effects of the drug, but her senses had not entirely returned to normal. It seemed to her that the distant sounds of the crowded reception going on below ebbed and flowed like an eerie, invisible tide. A sense of morbid unreality had settled upon her. She wondered if it was the result of wearing the dead woman's wedding dress.

The rasp of iron on iron jolted her out of her strange daze. Her pulse leaped and her skin went cold and prickly.

Stay calm, she thought. Make sure you hold up your skirts so that you can run. You must not trip as you did three years ago. There will be no second chance.

Through the slender crack in the wardrobe panels, she watched the bedchamber door open. Lamplight spilled across the floor.

"Have you awakened yet, my dear Mrs. Fordyce? The reception is at its height downstairs. Elsworth is the center of attention, so I was able to slip away to see how you are faring. That drug I was forced to use can be extremely unpleasant, I'm told."