“Oh dear, that sounds like something she might do. She was living a rather vagabond life of late, at least until I convinced her to come to my refuge. Do you by any chance know where I could find her?”

“We could tell you which way she went after she left us,” Cybil said, “but that was hours ago. She could be anywhere by now.”

The poor man seemed to sag with despair. “What am I going to do? These poor girls need so much help and I simply can’t make them trust me.”

Zelda nudged Cybil out of the way. “Why don’t you come inside, Mr. . . . ?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me. Waterson is my name, but I don’t want to impose—”

“Nonsense,” Zelda insisted. “You must come in and tell us all about your ministry and how you came to think of it and then maybe we can help you find poor Sally.”

—

Elizabeth and Gideon returned from an afternoon walk in the park to find Mother Bates entertaining a visitor in the parlor.

“Madame Ophelia,” Elizabeth said. “What a surprise.”

Elizabeth had to feign her dismay since she’d been expecting a visit soon, but Gideon’s was very real. “To what do we owe this honor?” He didn’t even bother to hide his displeasure.

Madame Ophelia was unfazed. “I knew you would want to know at once that the poor gentleman who was injured last night did indeed pass.”

“Oh dear,” Elizabeth said, noting that Mother Bates was managing a sympathetic expression.

“I suppose that young fellow returned to tell you the news,” Gideon said. His annoyance was very real, which was a good thing since Gideon was a notoriously bad liar. “Didn’t you say he was a client?”

“I can see that you don’t trust me, Mr. Bates,” Madame said with a hint of condescension, “but I assure you I am telling you the truth. Why would I lie about something that can be easily checked?”

Elizabeth knew it couldn’t be checked at all, since none of them had any idea who the victim or the driver were, but she was happy to allow Madame her bold falsehood. “You can’t blame my husband for being skeptical,” Elizabeth said. She loved saying “my husband.”

“Indeed, it is to his credit that he wishes to protect you, but he is powerless to do so now that you understand your gift.”

Elizabeth sighed and sank down onto the love seat beside Madame Ophelia. “I’d hardly call it a gift.”

“Oh, but it is,” Madame insisted. “I have come to help you accept it, if you will give me the opportunity.”

“This is ridiculous,” Gideon declared.

“Gideon, dear,” his mother said, “perhaps you would leave us alone to discuss the matter with Madame Ophelia.”

“But I—”