She sat down in the chair in front of his desk. Placing her candle atop the surface, she quietly began testing the drawers. To her surprise, many of them were unlocked. Surprise swiftly gave way to disappointment as she searched each one, finding nothing but tradesmen’s bills, a few dry letters from Compton’s colleagues in Parliament, and a document that appeared to be the lease agreement on a house.

Hope sprang anew with the next drawer. It was located behind a small door on the side of the desk. Unlike the other drawers, this one refused to open.

Removing her two remaining dragonfly hairpins, Effie set to work. She inserted the first hairpin into the lock until she felt resistance from the lock pins. Using that hairpin as leverage, she slid the second hairpin into the lock and manipulated the tumbler. It took a bit of doing, but after a few nerve-racking minutes, Effie felt the unmistakable click as the lock opened.

Satisfaction flared in her breast. Next time she saw Nell, Effie looked forward to informing her that she hadn’t, in fact, forgotten everything she’d learned at the Academy. After returning her hairpins to her hair, Effie slid out the small drawer. It contained a stack of loose papers that smelled faintly of violets. Withdrawing them, she quickly ascertained that they were handwritten notes, all penned in the same script and signed with the same initial—D. Effie pored over them in the candlelight. They didn’t contain anything damning in regard to Miss Corvus, but neither were they entirely innocent.

My dearest, what pleasure you gave me (one of the notes read). My poor body has not yet recovered.

And…

How virile and strong you were yesterday afternoon. Shall we repeat the performance Thursday morning next?

The more Effie read of the notes, the more she became convinced of two things: 1) Compton had a mistress; and 2) he and that mistress had a regular appointment on Thursday mornings.

But where did they meet? The letters didn’t specify. Effie presumed it was a prearranged location. A hotel room or a house, perhaps.

Her thoughts instantly returned to the lease agreement. She removed it from the desk again, this time examining it more closely. The house was located in Ellis Street. Had Compton let it for his mistress? Effie suspected he might have done. She committed the address to memory.

“Lord Solomon, indeed,” she murmured disdainfully as she returned the lease to its place. She put the letters back in their drawer and locked it.

Evidence of a mistress wasn’t what she’d hoped to find, but it wasn’t nothing. For now, it would have to do.