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dark,” she confirmed for McBride. The skull creaking abruptly stopped. He clearly wanted to hear. “And as I am modest, I prefer not to engage in . . . relations . . . ” She lowered her eyes as though the very immodesty of the word had sapped her strength. “ . . . with lamps burn ing everywhere in the room. But it seems we must, or there would be no relations at all.”
    McBride rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “’Ow long ’ave ye been married, madam?”
    “Well, it seems an eternity—”
    “I imagine it would,” he soothed.
    “—but two years, just.”
    “And yer ’usband, ’e wants to please you?”
    “He lives to please me.”
    Colin put down the skull so hard the jaw of it clacked.
    McBride made a clucking sound, part warning and part sympathy, both for Colin.
    He returned his attention to the woman before him. “Admirable of him, admirable. And a challenge, fer the both of ye, to be certain,” McBride said gravely. “But I lives to satisfy me customers. I’ve brewed summat new what might ’elp the two of ye—’tis of Turkish origin. And one of me customers—I canna give ye names, ye ken, but ’e is of the ’ighest of stature—’as already taken it away, and come fer more.”
    “Well, sir . . . if you don’t mind my asking . . . how does it help? Does it address size or . . . ” She trailed off delicately.
    “It ’elps wi’ inflation, madam.” McBride had appar ently forgotten to be coy in his zeal for his product. “Through the magic of science and the natural world and me own skill, it will work with the gentleman’s ex isting equipment and give ’im more to . . . wield.”
    “’Twould take a miracle, indeed,” Madeleine said reflectively. “And we shall give consideration to your elixir. But he will keep trying, you see, with what he was born with. He does have his pride. But I’d heard of you, you see, and wanted to come in to speak to you, and he was willing to accompany me.”
    “Admirable, as I said. Admirable,” McBride ap proved of Colin’s gallantry.
    “Thank you, sir, for your advice. And while I’m here, I’ve another matter,” Madeleine concluded.
    “Verra good.” McBride sounded cautiously optimis tic. Her first problem was nearly insurmountable; God only knew what her second would be.
    She swiftly slid the brass coat button onto the counter.
    McBride slowly lowered his head to look at it, then looked up at her sharply, and now she saw a pair of blue eyes glinting behind his spectacles.
    “I’d like six shillings for it,” Madeleine said, again cautiously, in case they’d been misinformed by their friend in the alley.
    “One,” McBride countered instantly.
    Ah, very good. “What manner of fool do you take me for?” she said coolly. “Five shillings.”
    “Five!” McBride was incensed. “If ye were not ’and some, madam, I would . . . ” He was spluttering. It was a fine bit of acting. “Three shillings ha’pence.”
    “Four shillings, and not a farthing less. You know ’tis a fine, rare brass button.”
    They glared at each other across the counter.
    Then McBride sighed, reached into his coat and pro duced a velvet pouch. He counted four shillings out of it into Madeleine’s outstretched palm.
    “Invigorating, madam. I thank you.”
    “Think nothing of it,” Madeleine demurred. “We’ll also need a large coat in blue or black. Or a greatcoat or a cape. Have you anything of the sort?”
    “Oh, ye’ve far to go fer that, I fear. I’m only buttons and fobs and fine metal, madam. The occasional book, perhaps, and those I do come upon I keep for a friend. Things small but grand, primarily, that’s me specialty. Mrs. Bandycross in Lorrimer Lane will sell ye a shirt or an ’andkerchief, but coats . . . ” He shook his head. “I canna think of where ye’d find a coat, unless it’s Bond Street.”
    They both laughed at the absurdity of that. Bond Street was a universe away from St. Giles.
    “Thank you, sir. I thought I’d