The door cracked. Lily peeked out, grabbed her arm, and pulled Callie inside, slamming the door and turning the key in the lock. "Upstairs, my lady!" she said urgently. "Oh, hurry!"

Callie ran up the stairs, almost colliding with the nurse at the top. "I'm sending Lilly for the doctor, my lady," Nurse exclaimed. "She won't let me in the door, Madame won't!"

Callie looked at Nurse in dismay. She could hear the duchesse coughing violently. "Won't let you in?"

"Locked me out!" Nurse said. "I fear the worst, my lady." She looked grim. "She's gone out of her head."

"Go for the doctor yourself," Callie ordered. "And send Lilly to the Antlers to fetch Mr. Rankin. He'll be able to unlock the door. I'll see if I can coax Madame to let me in. Hurry."

As the nurse pounded down the stairs, Callie faced the duchesse's closed door. The coughing beyond had ceased, which frightened her even more. She put her hand on the latch and pushed, expecting it to resist her.

It gave way easily. She opened the door. A strong hand grabbed her arm. For the second time in a few moments, she was yanked inside as a door shut behind her with a sharp thump.

She caught herself and turned, looking from the duchesse, who was sitting up in bed, to Trevelyan, who was engaged in locking the door. She had expected to find the duchesse alone and dreaded to discover her in the midst of fatal spasms. Instead she was looking quite animated and gesturing at the door with her handkerchief. For an instant Callie was unable to perfectly comprehend the scene.

She glared at Trev.

"You!" Her whole body seemed to lose any sense of up or down; her hands went slack and then began to tremble. "What are you—" She blinked back a peculiar stinging in her eyes and nose. It was difficult to find any air for a moment, and then all her feeling came rushing back upon her at once. "You!"

He gave her a look, a little shamefaced, a wry half smile, and a shrug, so much like him that she put her hands to her mouth, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath into her lungs. When she opened them again, he was still standing there. He was not a figment of her strained nerves or imagination.

"What are you doing here?" she cried. "And that man… that man outside…" She paused as the rami fications all came clear to her. "Oh my God—he's a thief-taker!"

Nineteen

Nineteen

"MY DEAR—WE MUST BEG FOR YOUR AID—IF YOU WILL assist us one more time. I am so sorry to trouble you again! But there is a thief-taker, yes. I fear so."