“I’d consider it,” Jane said. “But I’ve spent too many years watching Eve try to bring children home to their parents with her reconstructions to treat that search with anything but respect.” She smiled. “I’d welcome the kid being my imagination. That can be magical to an artist, too. So why don’t you ask Fergus, and you might get lucky.” She took the camera out of her art bag, shot a few photos of the sketch, and texted them to MacDuff. “But you’ll have to show him the photos. I’m taking the sketch upstairs to my room to work on a little more. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “As if I have a choice. I don’t blame you for not wanting to let her go. After I talk to Fergus, I’ll call you and let you know if you’re going to be rich or philanthropic.” He gave a last look at the sketch. “She does look like the mist is clinging to her…”

Jane put the sketchbook in her case. “It has potential. Maybe I’ll decide to finish it.” She headed for the arched doorway. “It isn’t often that a subject appears out of the blue to an artist with such precise detail. It’s like being given a gift.”

“Not precise detail,” he said. “It’s a black-and-white sketch. Lack of color always has limits. The eyes are dark, but so is that riot of curly hair the kid has. Is that how you saw it?”

“Maybe.” She grinned back at him. “Or maybe not. I wasn’t seeing much. I was only getting down whatever I could, as fast as I could, while I still had the fever. I’ll take a look at it later. Or perhaps you can ask Fergus if he’s seen the kid around the village.”

“I’ll do that.” He tilted his head. “Because it doesn’t seem quite right to me.”

“Now you’re an art critic?”

“I know what I like.” He was looking down at his photo. “And that usually satisfies me. So does this sketch. There’s just something a little…off.” He waved her out of the library. “Go finish the sketch. I’ll see you at lunch. Maybe one of us will come up with an answer before that.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said solemnly. “Whatever you say. But I should remind you that I usually rely on my own answers when it comes to either my work or my personal affairs.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re always correct,” MacDuff said with a catlike smile. “I might trust your vision about your work. But what about Seth Caleb? There aren’t many people who’d argue that he’s not a threat.”