“They are trying to tell you something,” Madame Iritosky said, gazing at the ceiling. “I feel their presence. They are here among us now.”

So were Tossie and Terence and Baine. And Colonel Mering, looking extremely irritated. He was wearing waders and carrying a fishing net. “What’s this all about?” he grumbled. “Better be important. Discussing the Battle of Monmouth with Peddick.”

“Miss Mering, amor mia,” the Count said, going immediately over to Tossie. “I am delighted to meet with you again.” He bowed over Tossie’s hand like he was going to kiss it.

“How do you do?” Terence said, stepping in front of her and extending his hand stiffly. “Terence St. Trewes, Miss Mering’s fiancé.”

The Count and Madame Iritosky exchanged glances.

“Mesiel, you will never guess who’s come!” Mrs. Mering said. “Madame Iritosky, allow me to introduce my husband, Colonel Mering!”

“Colonel Mering, thank you for welcoming us into your home,” Madame Iritosky said, bobbing her head and her rooster feathers at him.

“Hrrumm,” the Colonel muttered through his mustache.

“I told you I had seen a spirit, Mesiel,” Mrs. Mering said. “Madame Iritosky has come to contact it for us. She says the spirits are among us even now.”

“Don’t see how,” Colonel Mering grumbled. “No room for them in this damned foyer. Have a house. Don’t see why we have to all stand out here with the bags.”

“O, of course,” Mrs. Mering said, seeming to notice for the first time how crowded the foyer had got. “Come, Madame Iritosky, Count, let us go into the library. Baine, have Jane bring tea, and take Madame Iritosky’s and Count de Vecchio’s things up to their rooms.”

“Including the cabinet, madam?” Baine said.

“The—” Mrs. Mering said and looked, surprised, at the pile of luggage. “My, what a lot of luggage! Are you going on a journey, Madame Iritosky?”

She and the Count exchanged glances again. “Who can say?” Madame Iritosky said. “Whither the spirits command, I obey.”

“O, of course,” Mrs. Mering said. “No, Baine, Madame Iritosky will need her cabinet for our séance. Put it in the parlor.”

I wondered where on earth it would fit, in among all the ottomans and firescreens and aspidistras.

“And take the rest of their things upstairs,” Mrs. Mering went on, “and unpack them.”

“No!” Madame Iritosky said sharply. “I prefer to unpack my own things. The psychic lines of force, you know.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Mering, who probably hadn’t any more idea of what psychic lines of force were than the rest of us, said. “After tea, I want to take you out to the grounds and show you the place where I first saw the spirit.”

“No!” Madame Iritosky said. “My powers are quite diminished by the long journey. Trains!” She shuddered. “After tea, I must rest. Tomorrow you may show me the entire house and grounds.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Mering said, sounding disappointed.

“We will examine Muchings End for spiritual habitation,” Madame Iritosky said. “There is definitely a spirit presence here. We shall establish communications.”

“Oh, what fun!” Tossie said. “Will there be manifestations?”

“Possibly,” Madame Iritosky said, putting her hand to her forehead again.

“You are tired, Madame Iritosky,” Mrs. Mering said. “You must sit down and have some tea.” She led Madame Iritosky and the Count into the library.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Count de Vermicelli?” Terence said earnestly to Tossie as they followed them.

“De Vecchio,” Tossie said. “He’s terribly handsome, isn’t he? Iris Chattisbourne says all Italians are handsome. Do you think that’s so?”

“Spirits!” the Colonel said, slapping his fishing net against his thigh. “Humbug! Lot of silly nonsense!” and stomped back out to the Battle of Monmouth.

Baine, who had been looking disapprovingly at the luggage, bowed and went down the corridor toward the kitchen.

“Well?” I said, when they had all gone. “What do we do now?”

“We get ready for tonight,” Verity said. “Did that covered basket you had Princess Arjumand in survive the shipwreck?”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s in my wardrobe.”

“Good,” she said. “Go fetch it and put it in the parlor. I need to sew the sugared-violets box to my garters.” She started up the stairs.

“You still plan to have the séance with Madame Iritosky here?”

“Tomorrow’s the fifteenth. Do you have a better idea?”

“Couldn’t we just suggest an excursion to Coventry to Tossie-like the one to see the church at Iffley?”

“She didn’t go to see the church at Iffley, she went to see Terence, and you heard her. She’s all agog to examine the grounds and see manifestations. She’d never be willing to miss that.”

“What about Count de Vecchio?” I said. “Could he be Mr. C? He’s certainly shown up at the right time, and if anyone ever looked like they’d have an alias, it’s him.”

“It can’t be,” she said. “Tossie was happily married to Mr. C for sixty years, remember? Count de Vecchio would spend all her money and leave her stranded in Milan in three months.”

I had to agree. “What do you think they’re doing here?”

Verity frowned. “I don’t know. I assumed the reason Madame Iritosky never did séances away from home was that she had her house all set up with trapdoors and secret passages.” She opened the door of the cabinet. “But some of her effects are portable.” She shut the door. “Or perhaps she’s here to do research. You know, snoop in drawers, read letters, look at family pictures.”

She picked up a tintype of a couple standing next to a wooden sign that read “Loch Lomond.” “ ‘I see a man in a top hat,’ ” she said, touching her fingertips to her forehead. “ ‘He’s standing by… a body of water… a lake, I think. Yes, definitely a lake,’ and then Mrs. Mering screams, ‘It’s Uncle George!’ That’s what they do, collect information to convince the gullible. Not that Mrs. Mering needs any convincing. She’s worse than Arthur Conan Doyle. Madame Iritosky probably plans to spend her ‘rest’ sneaking into bedrooms and collecting ammunition for the séance.”

“Perhaps we could get her to steal Tossie’s diary for us,” I said.

She smiled. “What exactly did Finch say about the diary? Did he say it was definitely the fifteenth?”

“He said Mr. Dunworthy said to tell us that the forensics expert had deciphered the date, and it was the fifteenth.”

“Did Finch say how the forensics expert did it? A five looks a lot like a six, you know, or an eight. And if it were the sixteenth or the eighteenth, we’d have time to — I’m going to go talk to him,” she said. “If Mrs. Mering asks where I’ve gone, tell her I went to ask the Reverend Mr. Arbitage to the séance. And see if you can find two pieces of wire about a foot and a half long.”

“For what?”

“For the séance. Finch didn’t happen to send a tambourine back with you in your luggage, did he?”

“No,” I said. “Do you think you should do this? Remember what happened yesterday.”

“I’m going to go talk to Finch, not the forensics expert.” She pulled on her gloves. “At any rate, I’m completely recovered. I don’t find you attractive at all,” she said, and swept out the front door.

I went up to my room, got the covered basket, and put it in the parlor. Verity hadn’t said what she wanted done with it, so I set it on the hearth behind the firescreen, where Baine wouldn’t be likely to see it when he brought the cabinet in and put it efficiently away.

When I went back out in the corridor, Baine was waiting for me in the now luggage-less foyer.

“Might I have a word with you, sir?” he said. He looked anxiously in the direction of the library. “In private?”

“Of course,” I said, and led him up to my room, hoping he wasn’t going to ask me any more questions about conditions in the States.

I shut the bedroom door behind us. “You didn’t throw Princess Arjumand in the river again, did you?”