"And this caught the Prince's eye?"

"Indeed. In a forest of autumn leaves it is better to be a trifle green than flame-colored and common. Then, too, the Jersey Lily has a habit of going corsetless-a great scoffer at social conventions, she, at least the trivial ones."

"Corsetless." Such behavior was incomprehensible to me. "But why...?"

"Say no more. Lillie Langtry has had her day. Now that her liaison with the Prince is over, she has exhibited the bad manners to go upon the stage, thus pushing back into the wings those of us who have won our places by dint of talent and long study; meanwhile she absconds with the limelight."

Irene seemed genuinely irritated for a moment. "Ah, it is hard to succeed in an immoral profession, Nell, when immoral nonprofessional upstarts take to the boards."

"Your cynicism doesn't shock me, as you mean it to, Irene," I a.s.sured her insincerely. "You would never lead such a life as she, not even to advance your singing career."

"No," Irene agreed, her face sobering. The hatpin stabbed another pinch of taut black jersey. "I refuse to win my plaudits in a horizontal position, like a pincushion, and will likely see little success in life for it."

"Perhaps you will marry and retire from the stage."

"Never! Marriage is the same tawdry exchange of freedom for security, and that a false one, for the husband can command all that a wife may do. Marriage is merely a bargain sealed with civil and religious rites instead of unspoken social customs."

"I myself have always regarded marriage as sacred, a woman's highest calling. Circ.u.mstances may put the state beyond the reach of some women"-here my sad recollection of Jasper Higgenbottom's illness and absence clotted my voice before I recovered and went on-"but at least we treasure the mirage of it. Now you call even matrimony a snare and a delusion. You quite make me despair for a woman's lot."

"Oh, don't despair, Nell. No. Because the many choose to leave their fates unquestioned, like witless sheep herded through gates, does not mean a few nimble lambs can't leap the traces and go merrily down the lane."

She turned away from the rather gruesome Jersey Lily with a smile. "Speaking of leaping traces, you must help me decide what to wear. I have an important interview Tuesday morning next."

"Is it the new opera? The Gilbert and Sullivan?"

Irene shook her head. "Nothing so commonplace. I am to see Mr. Tiffany."

"Mr.Tiffany?"

"The famous New York jeweler! Do you live with your head in a barrel?"

"Usually in a bonnet," I retorted, more disturbed by the implications of the "Mr." than the 'Tiffany." "But surely you are not going to New York?"

"Hardly. I am fleet, but I do not have wings. Mr. Tiffany will come to me, or rather, I will go to his hotel in Trafalgar Square."

"You cannot"

"Whyever not?"

"Go to his hotel? Alone? And in the morning? You might be taken for an-"

"An actress? Yes, I know. But do you not see, Nell, what an opportunity this is? Charles Lewis Tiffany is consulting me on a matter of confidential importance! The Pinkerton Detective Agency has directed him to me. Would you rather he came here?"

"Heavens, no! That would be even more improper."

"Besides, Morley's is a very fine hotel. I shall endure no more comment than Mrs. Langtry would if she did the same."

"That settles it. I shall accompany you."

"I've never heard you sound so determined, Nell. Shall you not be also subjected to unwelcome speculation?"

"That doesn't matter." I squared my shoulders. "Let them speak against two of us."

"Well said." Irene smiled. "Your presence might lend a certain weight to the occasion. I could say you were my secretary."

"That would be a lie," I began dubiously.

"Not if you take notes," she came back triumphantly.

"Well, no, not if I take notes."

"Then it is settled. We will see Mr. Tiffany at Morley's Tuesday next, where you will take notes. And now you will help me choose the proper costume for this important rendezvous of ours."

This I did, for I found it increasingly amusing to outfit Irene. Despite its lavish appearance, her wardrobe consisted of surprisingly few ensembles. The jumble of hand-me-down trims she collected in street markets transformed this raw material to fit any occasion, station in life or mood that suited her.

Nor did Irene give a fig leaf for how nicely she accomplished her transformations. Often of an evening I, who had been taught to sew spider web-fine st.i.tches, would watch Irene driving her large-eyed needle in great galloping strides as she affixed a glittering swag of trim to a plain-Jane gown. The same long, loose st.i.tches would be as roughly ripped free when the gown required another change of character.

For our meeting with the famed jeweler, we settled upon what Irene called "bourgeois dignity." I dressed with my usual quiet rect.i.tude, though I admit that my gloves clung damply to my palms as we took the early omnibus to Trafalgar Square Tuesday.

Morley's presented a solidly rea.s.suring facade overlooking the mounted statue of Charles I. Yet I was more intrigued by the Time Signal Ball above the Electric Telegraph Office to our right, a device that gave a precise reading of Greenwich Mean Time in central London.

Such ingenious inventions greatly consoled me for the crowded city bustle. Pneumatic pressure raised a six-foot-diameter zinc ball that was dropped ten feet at precisely one o'clock daily, thus activating an electric current transmitted direct from the Greenwich Observatory. By the sphere's daily plummet, all London could set its watches and clocks accurately, and I took full advantage of this convenience.

On our left the fool's-capped steeple of St-Martin-in-the-Fields church loomed over the hotel's lowlier bulk, which I thought rea.s.suring for our enterprise.

Thus sandwiched, as it were, between G.o.d and modern science, Irene and I glided into Morley's Hotel. Heavy Turkish carpet discreetly hushed our footfalls within as we were ushered to a private dining room. The coffered double doors sprang open on a spry old gentleman with a stern but kindly face.

"Miss Irene Adler?" he inquired, looking from one to the other.

"At your service, Mr. Tiffany," Irene said, extracting one hand from her m.u.f.f to shake hands with him. "This is my secretary, Miss Huxleigh."

Mr. Tiffany bristled a bit at her bold greeting, as I must admit did I. Yet Irene looked so charming in her blue brocade suit and bonnet with the cobalt ostrich feather dipping toward her dimpled cheek that we both forgave her at the same instant.

"I had not expected an American," Mr. Tiffany said next. "Pray be seated, ladies. The hotel has set out a repast, as I am a busy man and must meet over the meal hours."

"How delightful," Irene commented, seating herself before a tea table burdened with delicacies and a porcelain teapot in the likeness of a well-fed rabbit. "Perhaps you would do the honors, Nell, while Mr. Tiffany and I discuss business."

I accepted with alacrity. If I had mastered one duty of a parson's daughter-and beautifully, I might add-it was the preparing, pouring and serving of tea.

The old gentleman flipped aside the skirt of his black frockcoat and settled a trifle uneasily in a wing-back chair.

"I must confess, Miss Adler," he began with a frown, "that despite Pinkerton's highest recommendations I remain hesitant to consign my matter into your hands. You are so young-"

"As were you when you founded your firm. Five-and-twenty years, was it not?"

The puckers at the bridge of Mr. Tiffany's imposing Roman nose faded momentarily. "And the nature of my business is confidential, extremely so."

"I keep confidences, extremely so. Miss Huxleigh is a parson's daughter and the soul of discretion."

"That may be. Yet there could be some... danger... involved."

"Capital!" Irene accepted the first cup of tea I extended and beamed over its dainty lip at Mr. Tiffany. "If danger is involved, then the object of the a.s.signment must be worth a great deal. What jewel is it?"

"I did not say the matter involved jewels."

"You did not need to; your name alone makes that plain."

"But I could be seeking aid in a personal matter-"

"You would not allow yourself to be forced to use an untried agent like myself for a truly personal matter, no matter the circ.u.mstances."

"You are quick, Miss Adler, I'll say that for you."

"Then perhaps my wit will persuade you to reconsider hiring women clerks in your New York establishment, Mr. Tiffany"

The gentleman looked apoplectic for a moment, his color warming far more than my cup of milk-mild tea called for.

"My establishment presents an image of impeccable dignity, like a bank, Miss Adler. You also overlook the fact that Tiffany's, among city stores on either side of the Atlantic, was the first to provide retiring rooms for women clients and their children. Women, no matter how charming in the parlor or the salon-"

"Or shop," Irene interjected.

"Women clerks would... disrupt the surroundings," Mr. Tiffany said in final tones.

"Yes, your gentlemen clerks do dress like a convening of undertakers," Irene murmured into her tea cup.

"You have visited my Union Square establishment?"

"When I lived in America." Irene smiled. "But only, like most pa.s.sers-through, to gawk at its glories."

"You are a forward young woman! I half think you mock me. Perhaps these very qualities are required to do what I propose, though I admit myself still highly dubious of employing a woman for such a delicate task."

"Which is?" Irene asked pointedly.

He glanced at me as if rea.s.sured by my plain English demeanor in the face of Irene's full-blown confidence. His voice lowered.

"I seek not a single jewel, but a string of them."

"Pearls!" I couldn't help crying out. They both regarded me with pity and returned to their negotiations.

"Nothing so predictable," Irene murmured to me.

Mr. Tiffany nodded and went on. "These gems are large, matched diamonds, linked one after the other until they circle a dainty waist-and then fall to the floor. You frown, Miss Adler. Do you by some chance recognize my quarry?"

Irene shook her head. "Not at all, but the setting sounds quite... antique."

"If one considers the end of the last century antique-and at your tender age I imagine you do."

"And the piece is lost?"

"Indeed."

"Then if it were to be found, there would be none to claim it from the finder?"

"No."

Irene smiled suddenly. "No. Any of her relations are entangled in years, lost records and court battles beyond redeeming by now."

" 'Her', Miss Adler?"

"The original owner of your missing belt, Mr. Tiffany: the late Queen Marie Antoinette of the late, antique French monarchy."

"How-how did you know?" The old gentleman's high color drained from his cheeks and nose.

"I did not know, I guessed, for you could not resist giving me a hint. A piece as valuable as you describe could only have belonged to a royal house; it is now fair game, so with the French crown jewels rumored to come on the auction block some day not too distant, interest would naturally revive in such a missing piece."

"Egad, you are well informed for a humble avocational agent! I fear I underestimated you, young woman. Pinkerton's said you were quick and clever, but I begin to think you would seek to outdo me at my own game and take my prize for yourself."

"My knowledge springs from common sense, not secret information. I know nothing about your business, Mr. Tiffany, but I do know fashion. A belt of the type you describe could only belong to a queen, and a profligate one at that. As for the French crown jewels, I will never wear a stone from them, but cannot resist any rumor of them. Most women are highly intrigued by precious stones, but you long since have learned that from your business, no?"

"And should I trust such unnervingly precocious enterprise as you display?"

"Indubitably. Pinkerton's has recommended me. If I find your treasure while acting in your interests, wild stallions could not persuade me to retain it." : Like Jefferson Hope not many days past, Charles Lewis Tiffany leaned forward and stared into Irene Adler's magnificent dark-gold eyes. She accepted his regard with regal indifference, as cat-calm in the certainty of her integrity as Marie Antoinette must have been in her queenship.

"Very well." Mr. Tiffany sounded winded, like a man who had just climbed a higher flight of stairs than he had antic.i.p.ated. "The piece is called the Zone of Diamonds. It has not been seen since it vanished from the Paris Tuileries in 1848 as the Paris mobs overthrew Louis Philippe. Word is that it found its way to London. Later, in the upset of 1870, the Empress Eugenie fled with many of her jewels, and her confidant, Comte de Montglas, and took them to the Bank of England."

"Surely we are not to wrest this wonder from such a peerless inst.i.tution?"

"The Empress's jewels are accounted for. I mention them merely to point out that imperiled French royalty have a historical habit of fleeing to England, and vice versa, which makes it even more likely that the Zone is in London. I've hired other inquiry agents to pursue it, but there is a subtler path that you may be ideally equipped to follow. A Wealthy collector may have been keeping the Zone for his anonymous pleasure. Chances are high that he cannot resist showing his prize to an impressionable female now and then-"

"An impressionable female not his wife," Irene put in.

Mr. Tiffany nodded, relieved that she had spared him from outlining a sordid situation. "Very quick, Miss Adler. Since you are familiar with, the theatrical world-"

"Where such impressionable females are most often to be found..."

"Quite so. It was felt you would be well placed to make discreet inquiries. I could offer such a gentleman an attractive profit. Perhaps the joys of private ownership have palled by now."

Irene considered, sipping tea. "I must tell you honestly, Mr. Tiffany, that this avenue of inquiry is unlikely to lead to your Zone of Diamonds. Hiring me may be a waste of your money and my time."

"I know it. But I am intent on leaving no possibility unexplored. It is true that a woman's delicacy could best elicit the information I seek, but I also hesitate to submit a woman to such an indelicate business."

"I perform indelicate businesses on the stage at every opportunity I am given, Mr. Tiffany, though I must admit my performing career wanes more than it waxes, which is why I undertake such a.s.signments as yours."

"Still, to set you prowling about the unseemly underbelly of society-"

(I, taking frantic notes, nodded vigorous agreement.) "Nonsense, Mr. Tiffany! One who has sung grand opera knows the artistic underside of seemliness intimately. I will do my utmost to uncover your diamonds; all it will take is a bit of persuasion. As you know, women are well supplied with that quality, for is it not their persuasive power that feeds your business? How else did Miss Lillian Russell persuade Mr. Diamond Jim Brady to bestow a pair of garters in the shape of spiders with emerald bodies and diamond and ruby legs upon her not insignificant... person... only last year?"

"Again you are exceedingly well informed," he conceded. "And you are yourself, if I may be so bold as to say so, Miss Adler, a terrifyingly persuasive example of your s.e.x. How is it that you accept such a.s.signments as mine when you could no doubt persuade some wealthy admirer to buy the Zone for yourself?"