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ought to have killed him, but his life had been saved by the application of unknown herbal remedies from an Indian witch doctor.
    According to his book, Dr. Farraday had known then that his life’s purpose was to discover the secrets of the ancient Indian cures and the jungle plants from which they were made; this knowledge he intended to bring to the civilized world one day so that more lives could be saved.
    His book failed to mention that the good doctor had dragged his daughter into his dangerous quest along with him. Now that Jack knew the truth, it made him rather angry, though he did not show it. This was no place for a young girl. “I am sorry about your mother,” he offered in a brusque tone.
    “It’s all right.” She smiled wistfully and set the music box back on the shelf, refusing to dwell on her loss. “So, what brings you gentlemen to Venezuela ?” Withdrawing to lean against the post behind her, she took a bite of pineapple.
    “We were just, ah—” Trahern started.
    “Visiting friends,” Jack said smoothly.
    “I see,” she murmured with a shrewd nod. “Friends up at Angostura?”
    Jack and Trahern exchanged a discreetly startled glance, both rather taken off guard, for neither could miss the knowing tone of her voice. For his part, Jack was mystified.
    Most females of their acquaintance at least pretended not to have a thought in their heads aside from dancing and soirees and the latest style of gowns, but this girl had practically asked point-blank if their visit was political in nature.
    “No matter,” she said with an airy wave of her hand, dismissing the topic as though she did not wish to make her guests uncomfortable. “It’s of no concern to me if you help the rebels. Frankly, I hope they win, though Papa insists that science is neutral.”
    “Nobody said anything about helping the rebels, Miss Farraday. We’re here on business,” Trahern corrected her with a charming smile, still mistaking her, Jack suspected, for a female who could be managed. “We do a large trade in tropical hardwoods, you see. We merely came to collect those trees you might have noticed on the barge.”
    “Ah, yes. About those trees.” She sent Jack a questioning glance that expressed her well-founded skepticism that the head of Knight Enterprises should have come in person to collect a mere haul of timber, but she did not press the matter, shrugging it off with the noblesse of a Town hostess. Jack watched her, fascinated. But as she wiped the corners of her mouth daintily with her fingertips, he realized this new subject proved no safer.
    “I saw they’re mostly rosewoods and mahoganies,” she said, “but I noticed a few zebra woods among them, and I do hope you didn’t cut too many of them down.”
    “
We
didn’t cut down any of the trees, Miss Farraday,” Trahern said. “We bought them from a local dealer.”
    “Yes, but they are so very rare, you know. The zebra-wood takes fifty years to reach maturity. If too many are cut at one time, the groves cannot replenish themselves.”
    “Their rarity is what makes them so valuable, Miss Farraday,” Jack spoke up in a cynical tone, irked by a fraction at her chiding. “The fine furniture-makers of London will pay handsomely for them.”
    “ London ?” she breathed, coming away from the post all of a sudden. Her eyes widened as she took a step closer. “Is that where you’re headed to next?”
    He nodded. “Why do you ask?”
    She stared at him intensely, then bent her head, as though growing tongue-tied all of a sudden.
    He lifted his eyebrow. “Is something wrong, Miss Farraday?”
    “Oh—no. I-It’s nothing, it’s just I—have so often wished that I could go there.”
    “To London ?” he drawled. “Whatever for? The weather is cold and so are the people.”
    She lifted her astonished gaze to his. “No, they’re not!”
    “Of course they are. ‘Tis a miserable place. I’m only going ‘cos I have to.” His tone was idle, but he