"It was very wise of you to call upon my wife for advice," Sebastian said. "She is quite expert at this sort of thing."

"Nothing has been the same since that terrible night," Bloomfield whispered. "Nothing at all."

Sebastian took Prudence's arm. "I think we had best be off, my dear. You have work to do and I'm certain Bloomfield wants to be on his way as quickly as possible."

Prudence did not say a word as Sebastian led her through the maze of clutter that filled the shadowed library. She glanced back once when they reached the door.

Bloomfield was standing behind his desk, his inner terrors easily visible in his staring eyes. He was gazing down into the lamp.

Sebastian and Prudence went swiftly along the hall to the door. Neither was inclined to wait for the housekeeper. Sebastian opened the door and swept Prudence out into the cold sunshine.

"Tell me, my dear," Sebastian asked softly as he handed her up into the waiting carriage, "just what will you say to Lillian's ghost if you do manage to speak with her?"

Prudence gripped her reticule fiercely in her lap. "I shall tell her that I think she has every right to wreak vengeance on The Princes of Virtue. I shall wish her luck in the endeavor. And I shall tell her that Jeremy loved her very much and that he, too, intends that she be avenged."

"Yes." Sebastian smiled his most chilling smile as he sat down across from her. "I think that would be a very suitable message to give her. But somehow I do not think that Lillian's ghost is behind the deaths of Ringcross and Oxenham."

Prudence took a deep, calming breath. "I gathered that when you suggested Bloomfield leave Town. Was that for his own protection, Sebastian? Did you want him to disappear for a time so that he will not fall prey to the person who killed Ringcross and Oxenham? Why do you not warn Curling, also?"

"I do not particularly care if either Bloomfield or Curling gets himself killed. From the sound of things, all The Princes of Virtue deserve to die under Lillian's curse. But I wanted Bloomfield out of the way so that I could search that mausoleum of his at my leisure."

That statement wrenched Prudence's attention away from her an­ger and focused it back on the investigation. "You're going to search his house?"

"The library, at any rate." Sebastian lounged back against the cushions. "Bloomfield has apparently thrown almost nothing away for the past three years since Lillian's death. It should prove interesting to go through the contents of his desk."

"I shall accompany you."

"Now, Prue—"

"In my professional capacity, of course." She pushed the dangling purple ribbon aside and gave him a determined look. "I must insist, Sebastian. After all, I have given my word to Lord Bloomfield that I will attempt to contact Lillian's ghost."

"I don't think it wise."

"It will be perfectly safe, my lord. If we are caught I shall merely explain that I am carrying out an investigation of spectral phenomena for my client."

Sebastian's eyes gleamed. "Very well, my dear. If we are appre­hended, I shall let you handle all the explanations. But bear in mind that the last time you did so, you wound up engaged to me."

"I am hardly likely to forget that, my lord."

Prudence wished very badly that she knew whether or not he had heard her confession of love last night.

At one o'clock that morning Sebastian lit the lamp on Bloom-field's desk, removed the length of wire he had tucked into his sleeve, and inserted it into the lock.

"Do you always carry that with you?" Prudence asked.

"Always."

Getting into the house had proved relatively simple. Bloomfield's locks were large and forbidding in appearance but not particularly complicated. Sebastian had opened them effortlessly and Prudence had been suitably admiring of his talents.

"This place is even worse at night than it is during the day," Pru-dence whispered. She stood nearby, peering over Sebastian's shoulder as he worked on the desk lock. "I don't know how Bloomfield can stand to live in such a dark, cluttered house. It would drive me mad."

Sebastian did not look up from his work. "He already is mad, in case you failed to notice."

"Hardly. He is a very strange man."

"At least we have the house to ourselves. Bloomfield certainly did not delay leaving Town today. He actually is afraid of Lillian's ghost." Sebastian felt something give inside the lock. Satisfaction coursed through him. "Ah, yes, love. That's it. Open for me. Easy, now. Let me inside. Beautiful."

Prudence gave a soft, annoyed exclamation. "Are you aware that you tend to talk to locks the same way you talk to me when we are making love?"

"Naturally. You and a fine, clever lock have much in common. You are both endlessly amusing."

"Sebastian, sometimes you are impossible."

"Thank you. I do try." Sebastian opened the first drawer and sur­veyed the crammed interior. "Damnation. This is going to take some time."

Prudence's new purple cloak drifted against Sebastian's boots as she leaned closer. "Bloomfield appears to have filed his business pa­pers in a somewhat haphazard fashion."

"Only to be expected, I suppose. Here, you take this batch." Se­bastian handed her a fistful of papers. "I'll go through these." He removed three journals from the drawer.

"What am I to look for?"

"I'm not certain. Anything that makes reference to Ringcross, Ox-enham, or Curling would definitely be of interest. Also anything that mentions a large sum of money. Preferably both."

Prudence glanced up curiously. "I don't understand."

"It is very simple, my dear. There are only a handful of motives for murder. Revenge, greed, and madness. I do not believe we are dealing with a madman."

"We have already decided revenge is a definite possibility."

"Yes, but the only one around who appears to have a reason for vengeance, aside from our ghost, is Jeremy. If you are right in thinking that he knew nothing about the deaths of Ringcross and Oxenham, then we must examine the third possible motive."

Lamplight glittered on the lenses of Prudence's spectacles "Greed?"

"Precisely."

"What if we find nothing to indicate that there is such a motive?"

Sebastian opened the first journal. "Then we must reconsider the possibilities of revenge or madness."

Prudence chewed gently on her lower lip. "What are you going to do if you discover that Jeremy is behind the murders?"

Sebastian ran his finger down a list of figures. "I shall take him aside and give him a very stern lecture."

Prudence blinked in astonishment. "A lecture on the evils of com­mitting murder?"

"No. A lecture on the evils of leaving behind evidence that can identify him as the killer. If Jeremy is bent on vengeance, he will need to become a bit more efficient and a little less melodramatic about the business."

Prudence smiled warmly. "Does this mean you have decided you do not wish to see him arrested?"

"I have concluded that it would not be particularly amusing."

It was after two before Sebastian finally discovered what he had begun to suspect he might find. The familiar surge of satisfaction flashed through his veins. His instincts told him that he had found the key to the puzzle.

"Ah, yes," he said. "This must be it."

"What is it?" Prudence put down the pile of old receipts she had been perusing.

Sebastian smiled as he scanned the business agreement he had turned up in the back of the bottom drawer. "A motive that accounts quite nicely for the deaths of Ringcross and Oxenham. It would also account for Bloomfield's demise, should that occur."

"Not madness or revenge?"

"No, the simplest of all." Sebastian refolded the document. "Greed."