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Frenchies took away would be sent back with requests for what information they required.”
    “But if Papa only came to Brighton to visit Mrs. Mobley ... and why should the Horse Guards pay for his rooms?” I asked, trying to make sense of the senseless.
    “We don’t know that they did. Someone paid by cash enclosed in a letter, is what Soames said. It could have been the Frenchies. Don’t think there aren’t Frenchies in London.”
    “Why did Papa bring pigeons then, and why was he killed? He always told us he was going to his Pigeon Society meetings in London.”
    “Aye, but where he was coming was to Brighton. He discovered in some manner that Mobley was here. She wrote him, no doubt. The pigeon meetings were his pretext to get away and visit Mobley. He knew I would have something to say if I learned he was seeing that creature. I daresay Snoad just took advantage of the visits. He would be happy enough to have Harold do some of the business away from home. It diverted suspicion from himself—from Snoad I mean. Snoad might have been concealing messages in with the birds in some manner. If the Horse Guards caught on to it, they would have assumed your father was the culprit, and had him assassinated.”
    “I hope Bunny finds Depew, for there are a dozen questions I want to ask him,” I said, trying to figure out if my aunt had solved the case, or only complicated it further. Depew was the one who could tell us whether Papa was spying for England, or against it.
    “I almost hope he does not,” Mrs. Lovatt said. “As things stand, we have only questions to worry us.”
    “I should prefer to have those questions answered, Auntie. Papa must have wondered why he was getting his room free.”
    Mrs. Lovatt made no reply, but her worried frown suggested that she was pondering the possibility of Papa’s deeper involvement in the spying scheme. After a long moment she said, “Harold always had a reckless streak in him. He was used to letting the smugglers land at his cove. It worried your mama to death.”
    And smugglers from France, presumably, might easily provide a line to French spies. Snoad had a foreign air about him. Not in his speech, but his coloring was Gallic. Was there not a sort of French passion in his talk of the pigeons the other night as well? We English are more phlegmatic.
    We were interrupted by a discreet tap at the door. I felt as if a murderer might be standing outside, ready to pounce in and shoot us. My aunt admitted the caller. My spirits soared to hear the polite accents of Lord Fairfield.
    He entered smiling. His eyes swerved at once in my direction, where they seemed to find considerable pleasure. “I hope I am not intruding, ma’am,” he said, with an exquisite bow.
    “Not at all. Pray have a seat, milord.”
    He waited until Mrs. Lovatt was seated before taking a chair himself. “Mr. Soames has just been telling me the shocking news of your room being broken into. I came to assure myself you are unharmed,” he said. Using this excuse, his darting eyes examined me minutely. His especial concern appeared to focus on my bosom and ankles.
    “Indeed we are fine,” I assured him. “We were out at the time, and did not discover the break-in until our return.”
    “My valet took the key down as soon as I left you. No doubt someone picked it up from the desk and came to see if he might find a purse or jewelry lying about.”
    “If that was his aim, he was disappointed,” Mrs. Lovatt replied, pretending to accept this taradiddle.
    Regarding Lord Fairfield, I was much struck with his noble mien and broad shoulders. Such a gentleman, from the highest walk of life, would have access to information that was denied ladies of mere gentility. I felt a strong urge to throw all my troubles on his shoulders and ask his help. If there lurked at the back of my mind that a damsel in distress customarily won a proposal from her savior, I did not acknowledge it at the time, even to myself.
    When Lord