"That will be Mr. Rankin," Callie said. "I'll go down and tell him he's not required."

It was indeed Mr. Rankin, but to Callie's dismay and annoyance, he hadn't arrived alone. Lilly met her on the stairs, hurrying up with her apron lifted. "They're coming into the garden, my lady!" She looked harassed. "Oh, but he's brought that awful major with him!" She stopped on the stairs, giving a little gasp, and then dropped her eyes. "Oh, I forgot—my lady. Begging your pardon, but I meant—why has he come? Madame duchesse won't want to see him!"

Callie didn't want to see him either. She recalled belatedly that he was putting up at the Antlers now; he must have heard the summons for Mr. Rankin. She closed her eyes for a moment to gather some composure. "I'll speak to them," she said. "Send them into the parlor."

Just then the constable emerged from the depths of the kitchen, holding a large bun between his teeth and shouldering on his coat. He looked as if he'd just got out of bed; his hair and neck cloth oddly disordered for the middle of the day. When he saw Callie, he stopped and quickly dropped the bun from his teeth, stuffing it into his pocket. "Good morning, my lady!" He bobbed his head. "We've not caught that scoun drel yet, but we're on the job here, my lads and I, as you can see!"

Callie paused on her way to the sitting room. "Constable Hubble. Have you spoken to this new thief-taker?"

He looked puzzled. "An' who would that be, my lady? Only fellow paid to take thieves round and about Shelford is myself. And my boys, if I want to share a bit with 'em."

"He's from London, I understand."

The constable's jaw dropped. "London!"

Callie nodded, beckoning him into the parlor. "Yes. From the city. Come in, Constable. Perhaps you can discover more about him, and what he knows of the duke's location. You may wish to work together."

"I have my doubts about that, my lady." The constable followed her, dusting f lour from his sleeve. "He's after the duke too, is he?" He snorted. "I did hear they thought they'd caught him, up to Bristol, and he slipped out of their hands. He's a sly fox, ain't he? Got to respect that in a criminal. So they think he's come here to his mama's, and s'pose I wouldn't know of it, do they? We'll see about that."

She sat down in a chair and folded her hands as Lilly ushered the gentlemen into the house. The maid brought them to the door of the parlor, gave a curtsy, and said in a resentful tone, "Major Sturgeon, my lady." She glanced at the innkeeper and added with more pleasantry, "And Mr. Rankin."