“Mrs. Gwendolyn Bainbridge, by the way,” she said.

“Constantine Torgos, Ministry of Defense, at your service.”

She stiffened for a moment, remembering his name from somewhere.

He swept her around his hip, swiveling her back and forth before moving her towards the corner as she tried to pin it down.

The funeral. He had been at Talbot’s funeral.

The other dancers filled the floor and Captain Palfrey disappeared from her view. Torgos bent her back into a corte, and smiled.

“Miss Sparks described you by your gown,” he said. “She simply should have told me to find the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Torgos,” said Mrs. Bainbridge. “Who did you say told you that?”

“Miss Sparks. Your maid.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sir. I have no maid by that name.”

“A pity,” he said, bringing her back up to him. “Because if you deny her now, we will have to kill her. Will you come with me, Mrs. Bainbridge?”

She hesitated.

“There is little time to waste,” he said. “Don’t let your caution mean her death.”

“Very well,” she said. “Where is she?”

“This way,” he said, leading her past the band and slipping behind a curtain to a side door.

She found herself accompanying him down a deserted hallway. He stopped at a doorway halfway down and opened it, then beckoned to her.

They entered to see Sparks sitting on the front edge of the table, a gun in her hand. She pointed it at Torgos.

“You took your sweet time getting here,” she complained. “Did I not describe her adequately?”

“Where is Tadeo?” he asked wearily.

“He’s fine,” she said. “Well, unconscious, but he should be fine eventually.”

She nodded down to the floor under the table, where the younger Torgos lay in a crumpled heap, something blue wrapped around his head.

“Is that my cape?” exclaimed Mrs. Bainbridge indignantly.

“Sorry, darling,” said Sparks. “It came time to use force. Oh, Constantine, be a dear and toss me your gun, would you?”

He looked at his son in chagrin, then pulled his gun out and threw it to her. She caught it with her free hand, then motioned him to the corner of the room.

“The good news is that in spite of all this, my original offer still stands,” she said. “We can trade information. As far as it goes, anyway. We don’t know everything, but we know a lot. More than you, I suspect. Shall we parley?”

“Do I have a choice?” he asked.

“We can all walk away from each other,” she said. “But your curiosity must be aroused by now.”

“Very well,” he said. “What is your question?”

“Who is Magoulias, and why are you so keen on finding him?”

“He worked for me,” said Torgos. “He had heard a rumour of letters for sale, letters that could have an impact on the Royalist cause. He telephoned to say that he had a lead on obtaining them. Then he vanished.”