When I got home I took the rag, still wrapped in newspaper, and wondered if I should bring it directly to Daniel. Then, of course, I realized this would show that I went to the theater against his wishes. No sense in rocking that boat unnecessarily. I’d keep it here unless and until it was needed, then I could produce it triumphantly. I wrapped it well in tissue and shoved it into a drawer out in the scullery. I had just washed my hands and was about to make myself some lunch when there was a knock on my front door. Not Daniel, because it was a timid little tap. I opened it and at first didn’t recognize the young woman who stood there. She was dressed demurely in a simple muslin, with a pretty bonnet-style hat, and at first I took her for a schoolgirl, but then she said, “Miss Murphy. I hope you’ll forgive me for calling on you like this but I wanted to thank you for your kindness to me the other night You did give me your card.”

Then I realized that it was Bess Houdini. The other night she had been in full stage makeup. Without it she looked pale, innocent, and frail—but not quite as young as I had thought. She was definitely older than me. In her thirties, maybe.

“Please, come inside, Mrs. Houdini,” I said. “It was nice of you to stop by, but it certainly wasn’t necessary to come and thank me in person.”

I ushered her inside and offered her a seat in my one halfway decent armchair.

“I have to confess, Miss Murphy, that I do have another reason for seeking you out,” she said. “You said you were a lady detective.”

“That’s right. I am.”

“Well, I’d like to engage your services.”

Of course my brain went straight to divorce. As I’d mentioned, I didn’t like handling divorce cases in the first place, and I had no wish to cross swords with a man like Houdini—reputed to be in league with the devil.

“Really?” I tried to sound only mildly interested. “May I offer you a cup of tea or a glass of water?”

“A glass of water would be swell, if you don’t mind. It’s hot and muggy out there today, isn’t it?”

I went and got her the glass of water, then sat across from her, waiting patiently while she drank it.

“So what sort of assignment did you have in mind, Mrs. Houdini?” I asked when I thought she’d had long enough to compose herself. My sainted mother would be impressed at the way I’d learned patience at last.

“I want to hire you to protect my husband,” she said.

I couldn’t have been more surprised. I started to say, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” but I swallowed it back. “You want me to protect your husband?” I repeated.