“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you, my dear. Do you suppose someone’s trying to frame me, Mr. Yellin?”

He stared at her.

“Mr. Yellin?”

He startled. “I do not know, Miss … Miss …” He drifted to a stop, as though he’d forgotten her name.

“The resemblance is striking,” she prattled on, ignoring his reaction. “Then again, my methods are typical of my kind. Perhaps one of my kin is visiting.”

Yellin made a visible effort to gather himself.

“That would be …” He paused, clearly uncertain. “Does that actually happen? Visits? I thought … that is to say … um.”

This was bad. I’d never heard a Second say “um.”

Sturluson smiled over her teacup and said nothing.

Yellin gave himself a little shake. “This is quite disturbing, Miss Sturluson.”

“I couldn’t agree more, my dear. That’s why I wanted to be sure you were in the know.”

She gave me a wink, as though proud of her idiomatic usage. Then she set down her cup and sat back, lacing her fingers over her round belly and smiling warmly.

I looked from one to the other, confused and worried. Something was playing out in front of me — something serious — but I didn’t understand it.

After several seconds, Yellin set his cup and saucer down with an awkward clatter and rose.

“Miss Sturluson, I will discuss this matter with Lord Cordus as soon as possible. Goodbye.”

He barely waited for a reply before hurrying out of the house, beating me to the car by a good ten seconds.

When I reached the car, I glanced back. Sturluson was standing in the door of her cute little house, smiling and waving.

A shiver went up my back.

I got in the car and maneuvered out of the parking space. Yellin sat staring silently out the window as I drove. He must’ve been deep in thought — I had to ask several times if we should continue our scheduled visits.

“No, no, of course not. We must speak to Lord Cordus immediately.”

“But …” I paused, at a loss. “Has Lord Cordus come back?”

Yellin turned to look at me, blinking and glassy-eyed. With an effort, he seemed to come back to himself, and I saw something like fear wash over his face. Then it was gone, replaced by his customary look of annoyance.

“Never mind. I was speaking metaphorically.” He turned back to the dashboard.

Okaaay.

“We could go back to the estate and meet with the others.”

“Absurd. This is not a matter to discuss with Nolanders. We will continue the day’s visits. I will deal with Miss Sturluson at a later time.”

I nodded and focused on getting us into Manhattan in one piece. It was hard to concentrate, though. I was getting that “we’re screwed” feeling in a big way.

Though Yellin seemed deeply shaken, he insisted on making the two visits he’d scheduled.