"Will he arrest him?" Potter asked her anxiously.

Sarah glanced at the butler, who was listening to every word with the discretion to which he had been bred. His expression betrayed nothing, but Sarah imagined he was mentally recording every word and would repeat it belowstairs to all the servants as soon as he got the opportunity.

"Perhaps we should step into another room," she suggested. She could simply have brushed off his question and taken her leave-she had no real answer to give him, after all-but she felt certain he had a lot of answers to give her, if she simply asked the right questions. She wasn't going to ask them in front of the butler, however.

"Oh, yes," Potter said, instantly realizing they needed some privacy for their discussion. "We could use the study, if you don't mind ..."

The room where Dr. Blackwell had been murdered. Little did Potter know a woman had been murdered in the parlor they had just left, and Sarah had found the body. Sarah wasn't afraid of the dead. "Not at all," she said, and allowed him to precede her and open the door.

Sarah looked around with interest at the room which Edmund Blackwell/Eddie Brown had made his own. The furnishings were decidedly masculine: dark woods polished to a bright sheen, overstuffed chairs, several built-in bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, English hunting scenes hanging in heavy frames on the walls. Nowhere did she see any signs of the man himself, though. The desk had been cleared, of course, and it may have held some personal items that would have given her a clue as to his character. Nothing of him now remained except a dark stain that had been ineffectively scrubbed away from the carpet, so she was left to reconstruct his personality from what others said about him.

"Will Mr. Malloy arrest him?" Potter asked again when they were safely behind closed doors.

Sarah had an urge to check to make sure Granger wasn't eavesdropping, but she resisted it. "If he decides that the boy killed Dr. Blackwell, he will," she hedged. "What makes you think he did? He's awfully young."

"A viper doesn't have to be large to be deadly, Mrs. Brandt," he said with some force. "I suppose you have surmised the relationship between the boy and Dr. Blackwell."

"Dr. Blackwell was his father," she said, confirming his suspicion. "And I gather Dr. Blackwell must have deserted the family."

"Yes, he ... he left his first wife and children several years ago. It wasn't intentional," he assured her quickly.

Sarah raised her eyebrows, wondering how such a thing could be unintentional, but she didn't have to ask the question aloud. Mr. Potter anticipated her.

"He explained it all to me. You see, he was always a healer by profession, but he was doing very poorly in Virginia. That's where he lived then. He couldn't support his family, so he traveled to Boston to study with a well-known practitioner of the art of magnetic healing there. He thought if he could improve his talents, he could be more successful. He worked as much as he could and continued to send money home to his family. He never intended to leave them permanently."

"At some point he apparently changed his mind," Sarah pointed out. "Was it when he met Letitia Symington ?"

"Oh, it wasn't like that at all! Letitia would never ... She's much too ... Oh, no, it had nothing to do with her at all!"

"Then what did it have to do with?" Sarah prodded, wondering why Potter felt he had to justify Blackwell to her but glad for his need nonetheless.

"He became quite proficient in the new art of magnetic healing, and so he came here to the city and began to build a following. He lived frugally, still sending money home when he could and depending on his satisfied patients to recommend him to their friends. One of those patients recommended him to Mr. Symington."

"For his daughter," Sarah said. "I understand she'd been severely injured in a riding accident."

"Yes, and her father was desperate to see her whole again. Letitia's mother had died years earlier, so she was all he had. He'd called in every doctor he could find, but nothing had made her any better. Edmund was the only one who was able to help her at all, and within days she was out of her bed for the first time in a year. It was like a miracle."

"I'm sure the Symingtons were very grateful to him," Sarah said, encouraging him in his tale.

"You can't know how grateful. Mr. Symington would have done anything to repay Edmund, but all Edmund wanted was for them to help spread word of what he had done for Letitia. Mr. Symington offered to rent a hall for Edmund so he could give a public lecture about his techniques, and when Edmund explained that he needed someone to speak who could personally testify to Edmund's abilities, Mr. Symington eagerly gave his permission for Letitia to do so."

"How did she feel about that?" Sarah asked, already knowing but wondering what Potter would say.

"Oh, she's very refined, and it was difficult for her, but she was so grateful to Edmund, she overcame her natural reserve. People openly wept when she told the story of how he had cured her. After that, Edmund's success was assured."

"I'm sure it was. He must have treated many wealthy people after that."

"Well, it's not so easy as it sounds. Many people were still skeptical, of course. His practice grew slowly at first."

"So he felt the need to do more lectures," Sarah guessed.

"It's important to educate people. You would be amazed at how many people distrust medical treatment of any kind."

"No, I wouldn'st, Mr. Potter. I'm a nurse and a midwife by profession, remember."

"Oh, of course," he corrected himself quickly. "I did not mean any offense."

"You gave none. So I'm assuming that Blackwell didn't become an overnight sensation."

"It may have seemed like it to some, but he struggled for months before he could consider himself comfortable. By then he'd fallen in love with Letitia, and she with him. You may wonder that so young a girl was taken with a much older man, but Edmund is ... was a very attractive and charming man, and women are often attracted to maturity. It was all very romantic, as you can imagine."

"I'm sure Edmund's first wife wouldn't agree," Sarah pointed out.

"Oh, you're right, I'm sure, but sometimes ... Well, while I cannot condone what Edmund did, forgetting about his first wife and family, I can certainly understand it. Letitia is like no other woman. Her beauty and charm are irresistible, and knowing how much she adored him, Edmund couldn't bring himself to disappoint her."

"Wasn't he afraid she'd be even more disappointed when she found out he was already married and she was living in sin with a man who had cruelly deceived her?" Sarah asked in amazement.

"I'm sure he intended that she never find out," Potter assured her defensively. "Edmund would have died rather than hurt her."

"He did die, and he still hurt her," Sarah pointed out.

For a moment Potter was nonplussed and stammered around for a reply. Sarah waited patiently, knowing there was virtually nothing he could say that would excuse Blackwell's behavior, and while she waited, a new thought occurred to her.

"Who else knew about Blackwell's other family?" she asked.

Potter stared at her stupidly. "No one. I am the only one in whom he confided."

"Are you sure? Did Letitia know? Or her father?"

"I can't imagine Edmund would have told anyone at all, particularly Letitia or her father," he sniffed. "A scandal like this would have ruined him. He intended to pay Calvin off and thus buy his silence. I'm sure he wouldn't have spoken of it to anyone else."

"Why did he tell you, then?"

Potter was beginning to dislike Sarah. She could see it in his tiny, mud-brown eyes. "I was Edmund's business associate and dearest friend. He needed advice from someone, and I was the only one he could trust."

Sarah was sure she now understood. "And you helped him get the money to bribe Calvin."

"Really," Potter huffed, so thoroughly offended that Sarah knew she had guessed the truth. "I'm sorry to have bothered you with this, Mrs. Brandt. You must think me terribly inconsiderate. A female must find this entire business extremely distressing."

Sarah wanted to tell him she'd seen birth and death and murder and murderers enough that hardly anything shocked her anymore, but she simply smiled sweetly, playing to Potter's prejudices. "You needn't worry that you have distressed me, Mr. Potter. I'm simply concerned for Mrs. Blackwell's health. A scandal could be very detrimental to her recovery."

"Oh, dear, of course. I should have thought of that. I was merely concerned with her mental state. I never thought ... But you needn't worry, Mrs. Brandt. I am completely trained in the healing arts that Edmund practiced. If Letitia suffers a relapse, I am more than competent to attend her."

"I'm sure she'll find that a comfort, Mr. Potter," Sarah said, although she believed no such thing. "And speaking of comfort, I should check on Mrs. Blackwell. I want to make sure she wasn't disturbed by Calvin's arrival. The less she knows about this the better, as I'm sure you'll agree."

Potter did not protest her departure. He obviously had grown uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. And clearly, she had gathered all the information he had to give her at the moment, although she doubted the accuracy of some of the details. Potter's version of events was colored by his loyalty to Blackwell-or his eagerness to whitewash Blackwell's reputation so he wouldn't be hurt too much by his association with him. At least she knew the bare facts now, however. Blackwell was a bigamist who had deceived a wealthy young woman from a powerful family. If that wasn't a motive for murder, Sarah would dance naked down Fifth Avenue.

CALVIN BROWN DID not resist when Frank pushed him down into one of the overstuffed chairs in the parlor. The boy's clear blue eyes were wide with fear, although he was doing his level best to pretend he wasn't afraid at all. Frank had to admire his spirit.

"Now, Calvin," Frank began, taking a seat opposite him, "tell me what you're doing here today."

"I come to see my father," he said defensively, suspicious of Frank's mildness. He blinked a few times as if trying to hold back tears.

"It was my understanding that you had an appointment with him two days ago. What kept you?"

Frank's sarcasm was wasted on the boy. "I did come two days ago, just like he'd said for me to. He said he'd ... Well, never mind. I was to come then, in the afternoon. At two o'clock. I waited until I heard the big clock in the tower chiming, then I went up to the front door and knocked. But didn't nobody answer. I pounded for a long time, but nobody come. Houses like this, they got servants and such. I couldn't figure why nobody come, so I waited awhile and knocked again. Then some copper come and told me to be on my way, he didn't like my looks, and I was scared he'd arrest me. I figured I must've got the wrong day or something, so I left."

"Are you telling me you didn't come inside and you didn't see your father that day?"

"No, sir. I didn't see nobody in the house at all."

"If you had an appointment with your father, why did you wait two days to come back?" Frank asked, keeping his tone gently inquiring. He saw no sense in frightening the boy so long as he was talking freely, even if he didn't like his answers.

"I didn't. I come back yesterday, but I seen that copper again. He didn't see me, but he was walking around the park, acting like he wasn't going nowhere very soon. I figured if he sees me, he'll give me his stick, so I kept going. Today I didn't see him, so I come up to the door and asked to see my father. That's when that snooty fellow tried to throw me out."

"I see. Now tell me, Calvin, how you came to be in the city in the first place."

The boy frowned. He wasn't eager to share this story, but he knew he had no choice. "I told you, I come to see my father."

"You came an awfully long way, and it's my understanding he'd been gone a long time. How did you even know he was here?"

Calvin shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I seen his picture. It was a drawing. On a poster for one of his lectures. Someone sent it to my ma."

"Who?" Frank asked, perking up.

"Don't know. Whoever sent it didn't write no letter or anything. It was just the poster in an envelope addressed to my ma. We could see right off it was him. It was a good likeness, even though they said his name was Edmund Blackwell. Pa was named Edward Brown. Ma said it was like him to change his name to sound more uppity."

"Or so his family couldn't locate him," Frank suggested.

The boy snorted. "Likely he could've still called himself Eddie Brown and we couldn'st've found him either. How could we? Last we heard he was in Boston. Boston's a big place. He could hide there forever without us finding him."

The boy was right. "You could have hired a detective to locate him," Frank suggested.

"You mean you can pay coppers to find somebody for you?" Calvin asked in amazement.

Frank forgot the boy was from the country. "No, there's private detectives you can hire to do things like this."

Calvin looked at him like he was crazy. "And how could we pay somebody to do that? Pa used to send us some money from time to time, but he quit a couple years ago. Must've been about the time he come here. Even when he did send money, it was never enough, though. There's three of us kids. I've got two little sisters. Ma had to take in washing to put food on the table. I worked at whatever I could, selling newspapers and chopping firewood and whatever I could find until I got big enough to get steady work. Sometimes we didn't even have enough to eat, so how could we hire somebody to find Pa?"

"But you had enough money to come to New York from Virginia," Frank pointed out. "Exactly where do you live there?"

"A place called Lynchburg. I ... well, there was something else in the envelope besides the poster. No letter or nothing, like I said, but there was a train ticket."

"Someone sent you a train ticket to New York?" Frank asked in amazement. This was growing more interesting by the moment.

"Yeah, and ... and a little bit of money, too."

Frank stared at the boy. He'd been lied to by thousands of people in the course of his work, and he liked to think he could spot a lie a mile away. This boy was either telling the truth or he was the best liar Frank had ever encountered. "Sounds like someone wanted you to come to New York and find your father."

The boy shrugged. "I guess so. Ma, she thought someone was mad at Pa and wanted to get even or something."

"They must have wanted to get even very badly to go to all that trouble," Frank suggested. "How did you find your father when you got to the city?"

"I just went to the place where he was going to be, where it said on the poster he was going to be. There was lots of people there. I sat way in the back so he wouldn't see me, and then he come out on the stage. It was him, all right. I ain't seen him for almost five years, but I was eleven when he left, so I knew him right off."

"Did you confront him that night?"

"No. I didn't want to warn him off. And besides, there was this man who talked that night. He said Dr. Blackwell was married to his daughter. I didn't think that could be right. He's married to my ma! I was confused, and I needed to think about things some, so I waited around, after the lecture. I was gonna follow him home, but he got in one of them hansom cabs. I didn't know they was called that then, but I do now. Anyways, I heard him telling the driver where to take him. Gramercy Park. It was easy to find out where that was. I just asked somebody at the place where I'm staying."

"And so you called on your father. When was this?"

"I don't know. About five days ago, I guess."

"What was his reaction?"

Calvin frowned, his youthful face revealing every emotion. Plainly, he found the memory painful. "I don't know what I expected, but for certain it wasn't what happened. He pretended he was real happy to see me. Asked how everybody was doing and all. I thought he'd be mad or maybe act a little guilty, but he didn't. It was like he'd just forgot all about us, and I'd reminded him. Said he knew he'd been neglecting us, and he wanted to set things right. I thought he meant he'd bring all of us up here to live with him. That's what he should've done, and he's got plenty of room in this house, don't he? The reason he left was so he could do better and give us a better life. This was his chance."

"But he wasn't going to do that, was he?"

"He said the city wasn't the right place for us because it was so dangerous. He said we'd be better off to stay in Lynchburg. He was making money now, for the first time, and he'd start supporting us again. He'd even come to visit. But he had to stay here because that's where his business was." Calvin's tone clearly expressed his bitterness.

"What did you say?"

"I said I knew he had another wife now, and what would people think if they found out about us?"

"Did that scare him?"

"It made him real mad. He said if I did anything to hurt him, he wouldn't be able to make a living anymore, and we'd never get anything from him again. If I kept quiet, he'd send me back with some money, and he'd start sending us money regular again, too."

"Did you believe him?"

"I didn't know, but he was real mean. He scared me, like he might do something worse than not support us if I made any trouble for him."

"Did he threaten you?"

"Not right out, but he made it real clear he could make sure I didn't never get back to Lynchburg if I made trouble."

"So you didn't make any trouble," Frank guessed.

"I told him I wouldn't. He said to come back in a few days, and he'd have the money for me. I thought maybe if I had some money, I could do something. I didn't know what, but maybe Ma would know. At least it would make things easier for her if he started supporting us again. So I left."

"And you didn't come back again until day before yesterday."

"Yes, sir. And like I said, nobody answered the door. I thought maybe he had to go out or he forgot I was coming or something, but shouldn't somebody have answered the door anyway? That snooty fellow was here the other times I come and today. Seems like it's his job to answer the door."

"All the servants had the afternoon off that day," Frank told him. "Apparently, he didn't want anyone to know you were here or to see you again."

"No, I guess he wouldn'st," Calvin said after he thought about it.