At that moment, in Mortimer Babbacombe's lodgings in Great Portland Street, a meeting was getting underway.

"Well--did you learn anything to the point?" Joliffe, no longer the nattily attired gentleman who had first befriended Mortimer, snarled the question the instant Brawn ambled through the door. Heavy-eyed from lack of sleep, his colour' high from the liquor he had Consumed to calm his nerves, Joliffe fixed his most junior accomplice with a dangerous stare.

Brawn was too young to heed it. Dropping into a chair at the parlour table about which Joliffe, Mortimer and Scrugthorpe were already seated, he grinned. "Aye--I learned a ~bit, Chatted up the young maid--no morn a bit of a thifig. She told me a few things before that groom--yeller-haired lot--came and fetched her off. Heard him giving her what for 'bout talking to strangers, so I don't think I'll get any more by that road."

Brawn grinned.

"Pity--wouldn't ha' minded--' " d.a.m.n you--get on! "

Joliffe roared, his fist connecting with the table with enough force to set the tankards j urn ping

"What the devil happened?"

Brawn shot him a look more puzzled than frightened. "Well--the lady did go off to the country that day--just like you'd planned. But seemingly she went to some other house--a place called Lester Hall. The whole household went up the next day--the maid said as she thought it'd been planned."

"d.a.m.n? Joliffe swilled back a mouthful of porter.

"No wonder I couldn't get any of the crew who'd gone up to Astericy to say they'd seen her. I thought they must've been practising discretion--but the d.a.m.ned woman hadn't gone?

"Seems not." Brawn shrugged.

"So what now?"

"Now we stop playing and kidnap her." Scrugthorpe lifted his face from his tankard.

"Like I said from the first. It's the only way of being sure--all this trying to get the rakes to do our job for us has got us precisely nowhere."

He spat the last word, his contempt bordering on the open.

Joliffe held his eye; eventually, Scrugthorpe looked back at his mug.

"That's what I say, anyway," Scrugthorpe mumbled as he took another swallow.

"Hmm." Joliffe grimaced.

"I'm beginning to agree with you. It looks like we'll have to take an active hand ourselves."

"But ... I thought..." Mortimer's first contribution to the conversation died away as both Joliffe and Scrugthorpe turned to look at him.

"Ye-es?" Joliffe prompted.

Mortimer's colour rose. He put a finger to his cravat, tugging at the floppy folds.

"It's just that ... well--if we do do anything direct--well--won't she know?"

Joliffe's lip curled.

"Of course she will--but that's not to say she'll be in any hurry to denounce us--not after Scrugthorpe here has his revenge."

"Aye." Scrugthorpe's black eyes gleamed.

"Jus' leave her to me. I'll make sure she ain't in no hurry to talk about it." He nodded and went back to his beer. Mortimer regarded him with mounting horror. He opened his mouth, then caught Joliffe's eye. He visibly shrank, but muttered,

"There must be another way."

"Very likely." Joliffe drained his tankard and reached for the jug.

"But we don't have time for any more convolutod schemes."

"Time?" Mortimer looked confused.

"Yes, time!" Snarling, Joliffe turned on Mortimer. Mortimer paled, his eyes starting like a frightened rabbit's. With an effort, Joliffe reined in his temper. He smiled, all teeth.

"But don't you worry your head over it.

Just leave everything to Scrugthorpe and me. You do your bit when asked--and everything will work out just fine. "

"Aye." Brawn unexpectedly chipped in.

"I was thinking as you'd better get a different plan. From what the maid told me, seems like the lady's in expectation of " receivin' an offer", as they says. I don't know as I STEPHANIE LAURENS 241 understand these things rightly, but seems pretty useless making her out to be a wh.o.r.e if she's going to marry a swell."

"What?" Joliffe's exclamation had all of them starting. They stared at their leader as he stared--in total stupefication-at Brawn.

"She's about to marry?" Warily, Brawn nodded.

"So the maid said."

"Whom?"

"Some swell name of Lester."

"Harry Lester?" Joliffe calmed. Frowning heavily, he eyed Brawn.

"You sure this maid got it right? Harry Lester's not the marrying kind."

Brawn shrugged.

"Wouldn't know about that." After a moment, he added, "The girl said as this Lester chap had called this afternoon to take the lady for a drive in the Park."

Joliffe stared at Brawn, all his certainties fading.

"The Park," he repeated dully.

Brawn merely nodded and cautiously sipped his beer. When Joliffe next spoke, his voice was hoa.r.s.e.

"We've got to move soon."

"Soon?" Scrugthorpe looked up.

"How soon?"