Leeds’s eyes had widened and he sent an almost fearful glance at the now empty window. “How do I protect meself from a witch?”

“Dinna let her gaze fall upon ye. But if it do, make certain she dinna think ye’re payin’ her any heed. So long as she dinna think ye’re followin’ her or out to harm her, ye’ll be fine. But if she sees ye—” Stewart shook his head.

Leeds gulped and nodded. “I’ll stay low to the wall, I will.”

“Good. Note who comes to see her, and find out their names and such. If she leaves, follow her, but be discreet. Send word to Mr. Hurst when ye discover her direction.”

“What if she leaves town altogether?”

“She won’t; Mr. Hurst says she’s due to leave tomorrow morning. He’s goin’ to visit her this evenin’, though, so dinna be surprised to see him. In the mornin’ we’ll be travelin’ with Mr. Hurst.”

Leeds brightened. “Where are we goin’?”

“I dinna know, but I’ll be a groom and ye’ll be a footman. Buffon will be comin’, too.”

“That lace-bowed jackanapes?” Leeds sighed. “I suppose there’s no help fer it. How does Mr. Hurst know so much about this woman’s plans?”

“How does he know anythin’? He’s a smart one, he is. One o’ the best. And I’ve a feelin’ that whatever important business Mr. Hurst is upon, this woman might be a big part o’ it. She might be a spy.”

Leeds looked every bit as impressed as Stewart wished. “Och, I’ll no’ leave me post.”

Satisfied he’d done his best to convince Leeds of the importance of their work, Stewart bid him good night and disappeared into the darkness.

CHAPTER 5

Diary entry by Michael Hurst as he waits for his release from captivity.

Yesterday I discovered that my assistant, Miss Smythe-Haughton, has initiated a hare-brained scheme to charm my captor in the hopes of winning my release without the onyx box. I dislike her undertaking such an endeavor and expressed my displeasure, which she ignored. While the box is a crucial link to finding the long-lost Hurst Amulet, that cannot justify her putting herself at such risk. Especially when I saw the expression on the sulfi’s face when she attempted—of all the witless things—to dance for him during dinner.

Miss Smythe-Haughton might be a crack cryptographer and have a way with winning support from the locals, and she may be the only woman I know who can ride camels as if born to it, but the woman dances like a lame bear. Since the sulfi did not order her beaten, I must surmise that he has an excellent sense of humor.

An hour later, Robert rode into the inn yard. He cast a quick glance around and saw Leeds idly grooming a horse in direct sight of the door.

Leeds flicked Robert a glance from beneath the brim of his hat and nodded toward the wide door.