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person had interfered. Someone had thwarted her father’s dying wishes, had cheated a man as his body lay cold and his heart sat still in his chest. A lady like Miss Crawford, who had shown unmistakable signs of goodness, would not want so grave a crime to go unpunished.
    No sooner had she determined this course of action than Uncle Lowell came to visit her. He knocked upon the door, which was polite, but did not wait for a response before entering, which was not. He had previously observed that it was his house, and he did not see that he must demand permission before entering any part of it. He would never have barged into his niece’s room at a time she might be dressing, but as Lucy was already dressed, he did not think she could be about anything he was not within his rights to witness.
    He entered the room and paced back and forth for a moment, and then, at last, he spoke. “Now that the question of the man’s name has been answered, you are to pen a note of apology to Mr. Olson and send it at once.”
    Lucy was in no mood to hear any demands from Uncle Lowell. “And what is it I must apologize for?” she asked, making no effort to soften her tone.
    “Don’t stand upon ceremony, girl, unless you wish him to withdraw his offer.”
    “I’ve done nothing wrong,” answered Lucy, for whom the revelation of the will had fueled her sense of persecution, “and I care not what he does.”
    Uncle Lowell began to redden. His fists clenched and unclenched as he spoke. “That’s a damned pretty thing to say. Do you think he’s not heard of your whoring about with that scoundrel Morrison before you came here? Unless you wish him to believe the worst, you must convince Olson you are not engaged upon some adventure with that baron.”
    He now saw the document in Lucy’s hand, and she observed that hesaw it. She began to set it aside, though she realized too late that doing so was a mistake.
    “What is that?”
    Panic had her in its grips, and for a moment, Lucy could not think what to say. If she was made to hand over the will, everything could end at that moment. Maybe her uncle had stolen the money, and maybe he would simply not want the family name to become involved in a scandal over a few thousand pounds that were not even his. She could not allow him to make that decision, so Lucy forced herself to clear her mind and master her feelings. She held on to the will and met her uncle’s eye. “It is a letter from my sister.”
    Uncle Lowell studied her carefully, perhaps sensing something amiss, but being a man too blunt for duplicity, he did not easily recognize it in others. After a moment he said, “I’ll hear no more arguments. You will write to Mr. Olson.”
    Lucy felt strangely liberated. She very much liked the idea of playing a deep game, of keeping her options open, of possessing more information than anyone suspected.
    “Certainly,” she told her uncle. Relieved that she had preserved her secret, she was prepared to offer a concession. “I shall write him at once.”

6
    H ER BUSINESS WOULD NOT WAIT. LUCY WENT OUT AND WALKED to High Pavement in the hopes of finding Miss Crawford home. She told neither her uncle or Mrs. Quince that she was leaving, an omission that might come back to haunt her, but she could not trouble herself about that presently.
    She found Miss Crawford at home, and her serving woman, the peculiar Mrs. Emmett, answered the door, beaming at her in her ebullient manner. Again, she wore her bonnet in a curiously low fashion, and Lucy wondered if she had some sort of scar or rash or disfiguration upon her forehead that she wished to conceal.
    “My dear Miss Derrick!” cried Mrs. Emmett. “Miss Crawford will be so pleased you are here. And I am pleased too. Not that it can matter to you, but I am and I shan’t hide it.”
    Lucy followed the cheerful woman into the sitting room and waited only a moment before Miss Crawford entered. She appeared, if anything,more beautiful in the full