Mr. Stewart wipes his palms on his trousers, and his jowls lift as he smiles. “Welcome to the Ringling Brothers Circus.” He extends a hand to me, and Mum laughs sweetly in my ear.

We set a time for our next meeting, and then Crawford, who I can’t help thinking played a role in Stewart’s decision, leads us back to the lifts.

“That was a strange swell,” says Jamie, making polite conversation. “Now it feels like we’re barely moving.”

“I’ll be glad of a slower pace,” Crawford returns. “Best to tiptoe around giants is what I think, and the ocean’s the biggest giant I know.”

I think back to when I first saw him. Mrs. Sloane offered a mild defense of his fear of the ocean. Is that why the man helped us? But if that’s the reason, then he must know that I am Mrs. Sloane.

Just past the felted doors, April’s room again catches my eye. As Crawford and Jamie move toward the lifts, on impulse, I cross to her door and knock. To my surprise, the door opens right away. April’s mother, wearing her mink, blinks at me. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Er, yes,” I agree. “Good evening, Mrs. Hart. I don’t mean to bother you.”

Jamie hurries over. “What are you doing?” he hisses.

April’s face appears behind her mother’s. “Valora! And Jamie, I presume?”

“Um, how do you do?” Jamie says cautiously.

April grabs my hand. Unlike her mum, she looks like she’s ready to turn in for the night, with an embroidered robe in chocolate brown over matching silk pajamas. “Valora, I looked everywhere for you. Do you have a moment?”

“Well, yes, but we’re really not supposed to be on this level.” I glance back at Crawford, who has glided up behind us.

“For heaven’s sake. Steward, officer, whoever you are, I will take personal responsibility for any rabble-rousing Miss Luck might do.”

Crawford angles his head deferentially. If he wondered if I was a rabble-rouser before, now it’s been confirmed.

Jamie frowns at me. “Don’t take too long.” Then he and Crawford return to the lifts.

Mrs. Hart, who has been studying me, announces, “I’m going to see if I can find some soothing music. That swell made my stomach turn a loop.” She pulls her mink tighter and sets off.

April pulls me inside and shuts the door behind me. “Is there good news, then?”

“And bad. Which would you like first?”

“The good, of course. Makes the bad more digestible.”

“Mr. Stewart wants me for the circus.”

“Hurrah!” She squeezes my arm, then crosses to a table with a decanter of golden liquid. “This calls for sherry. I hope you received the champagne I sent down.”

“That was you? Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, what’s the bad news?” She pours a measure into two glasses.