We parted, with his assurances that he would send on the rest of the photographs.

*   *   *

Alec must have heard my car. He appeared from the direction of the stables, looking hopeful.

“You’ll have your photographs tomorrow. I think you’ll be pleased.” The poor boy blushed. I was glad that as an afterthought, I had asked Mr. Lewis to make several postcards so that Alec could give some to his admirers. “Will you give me a hand with these framed pictures?”

He picked up the pictures, carried them as far as the door and then came to an abrupt halt. The noise of my car engine had also alerted Raynor, who opened the door before we reached it. He took the parcels from Alec.

There was an odd moment of understanding between the three of us. Alec turned back and looked at me. I smiled. As stable boy and minder of cars, he was not allowed through the front door. Had he been born on the other side of the blanket, he would be heir to the Brockman fortune, or its debts.

Gertrude would insist that her newly adopted baby would be the Brockman heir. Alec, Benjie’s by-blow, would remain just that. It crossed my mind that her animosity towards Alec was so great that she would go to any lengths to exclude him.

Raynor and I stood in the hall. I would not let him know that he had rattled me by following me to Rothwell, and by his constant observation. “One of these pictures is for you, Raynor.”

He is a proper butler who has trained himself to suppress expressions of surprise, delight or dismay. Yet he glowed with pleasure as he looked at his portrait. “Oh, Mrs. Shackleton. I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? I have never had such a portrait, never one of myself at all.”

“It’s a fine likeness. You look noble.”

He nodded in agreement. “You have captured my better self. You have captured my soul.”

The thought of that was disconcerting. “Then it’s lucky I didn’t suffocate in the darkroom. Your better self might have died with me.”

He looked suddenly shocked, and opened his mouth to speak but I got in first. “Mrs. Brockman will think I got lost.”

“She will be relieved to see you, madam. It has been a trying morning for her.”

With that intriguing remark, he carried his portrait away, but he turned back. “In return for this gift, I want to do something for you, Mrs. Shackleton. You see I have an interest in casting astrological charts. If you would be willing to divulge your date, time and place of birth, I should be happy to undertake a chart for you.”

Some sort of warlock, ready to cast a deadly curse if I fathomed his and Benjie’s secrets.