He could see her bite her lower lip. It wasn't fair to her, this provocation. He hardly knew why he was doing it. He could have discussed her sister's betrothal or his mother's health or the weather.

"So it's to be cold-blooded murder for Sturgeon," he said, ignoring his own better impulse. "And who else would you like me to slay before I f lee the country? I'll require the names and directions of Numbers Two and Three, and their preferred methods of demise."

"Mr. Cyril Allen is Number Two," she said, lifting her chin. Her cheeks were quite pink.

"And what is to be his fate?"

"Oh, he should be strangled," she said strongly. "He told everyone in London that I wasn't quite right in my head and that's why he jilted me. And then he married his cook!"

"May I chop him into very small pieces first? I'll strangle him when there's not enough left to do else."

"Yes, you may," she said obligingly. "And I should like to have a slice of him put into her stew."

He gave a wicked chuckle. "I'm sure I can arrange it."

"Number Three has gone abroad with his exceed ingly beautiful wife," she said, pursing her lips. "To Italy, I believe."

"That will be convenient. I can boil and render Mr. Allen and then, while I abscond to the continent, drop round to Pisa and push Number Three off the Leaning Tower."

"I suppose it would be described in all the newspa pers," she said with relish.

"Quite likely. But your name need not be made public. 'He did it for the honor of a lady,' they'll say."

"Oh, that will cause a deal of frenzied speculation," she said in satisfaction. "Everyone will wonder who is this mysterious lady."

"No, of course it will be obvious I did it for you. Any constable could discover that. What else have these three fellows in common?"

She made a puff of dismissal. "No one would believe you did it for me."

"Why not?"

"Because." She stuck out her tongue at him. "Gentlemen don't do that sort of thing for me."

"They don't kill their rivals?" he asked in bewilder ment. "These Englishmen are such dull dogs."

"Well," she said with that little glint of mischief. "Yes, they are, rather."

He grinned at her. They had somehow stopped walking. She was looking up at him shyly, a clear invitation on her lips. The fact that she had no idea of it only made the latent enticement more tempting. Humble Callie with her kissable mouth and laughing eyes; she'd be astonished if he gave her a lesson, right here in the public lane, in what a red-blooded Frenchman would do.

"Good morning to you, my lady!"