The Thorns retired to the drawing room where Katherine called the agency and confirmed Mrs. Baylock's credentials. She was well qualified with high recommendations, the only confusion being that their files showed she was presently employed in Rome. It was likely, however, that her situation had changed without being entered in their files, and they would clear that up as soon as the agency manager who no doubt sent her to the Thorns, returned from his four-week holiday. Katherine hung up the phone and gazed at her husband and both shrugged, rather pleased with what had transpired. Mrs. Baylock was an oddball, but full of life, and that, more than anything, was what they needed.

Upstairs, Mrs. Baylock's smile had faded and she gazed down through misted eyes at the child asleep in his bed. He had apparently had his chin on the window ledge, watching the rain, and had slipped into slumber there, his hand still touching the pane. As the woman watched him, her chin began to tremble as though she were standing before an object of incomparable beauty. The child heard her faltering breath, his eyes opening slowly to meet hers. He stiffened and sat upright, edging back toward the pane.

"Fear not, little one," she whispered in a faltering voice. "I am here to protect thee."

Outside there came a sudden clap of thunder. The beginning of a two-week rain.

Chapter Four

By July the English countryside was in full flower, an unusually extended rainy season causing the Thames tributaries to overflow and bring life to even the most long-dormant seeds. The grounds of Pereford too had responded, becoming lush and green, the forested area beyond the gardens grown thick, sheltering an abundance of animal life. Horton feared that the rabbits of the forest would soon overrun their refuge and start feeding on the tulips, and he set traps for them; their piercing cries could be heard in the dead of night. The practice ended, not only because Katherine asked that he stop, but also because he had become uneasy about entering the forest to collect their remains. He felt "eyes" upon him, he said, as though he were being watched from the thickets. When he confessed this to his wife, she laughed, telling him it was probably the ghost of King Henry the Fifth. But Horton was unamused, refusing to enter the forest ever again.