Just then, the last door on the right opened and a surly looking individual walked out and in a high flutey voice said, "What is going on here? Pip, Pip?" When he saw Anne, he whirled back into the room and started to close the door, and Anne distinctly heard, "Mi... mi... m..." and then silence.

"Master Ronnie!" Anne shrieked, and ran to try the knob as the door slammed shut in her face. Her exclamation caused everyone to freeze. Even the puppies came to attention. After a split second, Anne threw herself against the door, pounding on it ineffectually with her palms.

Two strong hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her back. She looked up to see Mr. Fairleigh's face, set and grim. "Is your charge in that room, Miss Tillbury?" he inquired, and at her frantic, "Yes! Oh, please..." he launched himself at the wooden panels.

"Roly? Good God, what the devil are you doing?" Anne spared a moment to glance at the open doorway across the hall, in which a military gentleman stood.

"No time..." Thud. "...to explain..." Thud. "...mon cher Jacob," Fairleigh gasped as he continued to throw himself against the door. Holt wasted no more time with questions, but ran to aid the other man with his task. Between them, they almost immediately cracked the flimsy lock and together stumbled into the dismal room.

Anne let out a glad cry and ran in behind them, to be confronted by the sight of her young pupil sitting at a corner table, apparently in the middle of stuffing into his mouth an extremely sticky substance of the sort small boys adore.

"Ronnie!" she exclaimed, moving to embrace him, then sat back a little to anxiously examine his jam-smeared features. Unnoticed by the reunited pair, Fairleigh ran to the open window and looked out upon the courtyard to see the backs of three mounted men galloping off.

"I w-was with th-those g-g-gentlemen," Ronnie responded to his governess' query. "M-m-mr. Smith and M-m-mr. Jones and Mr. G-g-green." He stuck his fingers back in the jam jar, and Anne immediately said, "No, you must not! You have got yourself most sticky, Master Ronnie, and I must get you clean before your Mama sees you. Pray do not eat any more jam."

"Yes, Ma'am," the little boy replied, and licked his fingers unconcernedly. "T-tilly?"

"Miss Tillbury," Anne corrected automatically, wiping his face with her handkerchief, which she had moistened in time-approved fashion with her tongue. Fairleigh and Holt seemed to be conferring in the corner, then Holt turned and dashed out.

"M-m-miss T-t-tillbury?"

"Yes, Master Ronnie?"

"W-w-will you l-let me go with y-y-your friends again? Mr. Green's a p-p-prime gun!"

Anne felt a sudden chill at these inexplicable words, but she wished to protect the child from the knowledge of how dangerous his recent adventure had been, so she smoothed his hair and managed a calm, "Does he call again, we shall certainly further our acquaintance with Mr. Green."

Anne sighed as she set her hairbrush down beside the washbasin on the small table next to her bedroom window. Bastet and Boadicea, knowing it was time to retire, awaited on the high bed, eyes glowing yellow in the firelight.

After all the fuss had died down, they had discovered that Cousin Cecily had made good her escape during the confusion. Theo had been left to make some half-hearted explanations, to which few of his listeners had paid any heed. The ruffians had escaped with the jewel. The group of rescuers had returned, exhausted and discouraged, to London once more and retired to their various homes. Only Jacob Holt remained at the inn, in case the criminals returned. Ronnie had been returned to his ecstatic mother safe and sound.

Anne climbed onto the mattress and blew out her candle, then pulled the bedcurtains shut and settled under the covers. She was certain she would not sleep a wink.

Some hours later, her eyes flew open. One hand instinctively moved to pat the cats, then clutched empty covers as the felines' absence became known. It was still extremely dark. She listened hard, unsure of what had caused her awakening. A moment later, the sound came again: a soft rattling against the shutters. Anne closed her eyes, firmly said, "I do not believe in ghosts," reopened her eyes, and, jerking the bedcurtains out of the way, lightly slid off the bed and ran to the window, pulling it open and then swinging the shutters aside. She quickly stepped back from the sill, just in time to avoid a faceful of gravel, then looked down at the pavement beside the street below.

"Wretched, wretched boy!" she hissed without much rancor. "Whatever are you doing up and about at this time of night?"

Theo, his guinea-gold hair made silver by the moonlight, tilted his head back to gaze at her. "Uncle James said we must tell you," he said, in a tone that made clear his own reservations.

"What must you tell me?" Anne demanded. "Keep your voice down, or Phipps is sure to hear you!"

"We must go to Merton," he replied, in a hoarse whisper quite as loud as his normal tone. "The Guardians are meeting tonight! Perchance we can reclaim the Star of the Sea."

"I will be down directly I change," Anne said without thinking, then withdrew her head and ran to her gowns and petticoats. Hurriedly pinning up her hair, she thought, 'I cannot believe I am indulging in this folly,' then turned about from her looking glass to find two pairs of eyes surveying her antics. "Not a word to Lady Brookfield, mind!" she hissed to Bastet and Boadicea, who instantly looked insulted at her lack of trust.

Anne tiptoed down the back stairs. As she turned the key in the servants' entrance, she realized, 'if That Dragon finds me out, my position is as good as finished.' The door swung open with a creak. Anne froze, certain it must have roused the entire house, but amazingly even the scullery maid, asleep under the kitchen table, snored on. Quickly, the governess stepped out and gently swung the door shut behind her, then trotted to the front where Theo impatiently waited.

"I knew it would take you an age!" he groused as he gripped her elbow and hurried her in the direction of Hyde Park. "'Tis why I told Uncle James to let be, but he must always have his way." And so on in this vein until they reached a waiting travelling coach.

Seaforth swung the door open and let down the steps. Anne was struck in how greatly his demeanor differed from when she had seen him last. Gone was the shy gentleman who had "danced" with her, and equally departed the swooning, pallid hero. In his place was this grim stranger, who spoke not a word as she walked past. After Theo and Anne had boarded, he swung up onto the box, taking the reins up and waving at Roland Fairleigh, who stood at the horses' heads. As the one-eyed gentleman walked to the coach, Anne heard Seaforth say, "My thanks, Mathieson."

"Certainement, dear my James," the other man murmured as he climbed into the carriage and slammed the door behind him. They took off with a lurch, Seaforth urging the horses to a near-gallop despite their still being in Town. Theo leaned back and closed his eyes, almost immediately falling asleep.

Anne was feeling obscurely put out by the Marquis' failure to speak to her, and inquired crossly of her older companion, "Why are you allowing Lord Seaforth to drive when to do so must surely pain his wound?"

"I am sure I would be delighted to take the reins, did he allow me to do so," Mathieson returned in an amused fashion. "Helas, my lack of an eye compromises my vision greatly at night."

Anne felt foolish for not having realized this, and did not speak for a moment before remembering what the Marquis had called the other man. "And I thought your name was Fairleigh!" she added accusingly.

A wicked glint appeared in the gentleman's black eye, and he exclaimed, "Now, you will think me a true blackguard! You must excuse me on the grounds that old habits die hard, and bad habits even harder." He pressed his walking stick to his chin and gazed mockingly at her. Anne gazed levelly in return, and he smiled enigmatically before asking, "Have you any idea why you are with us?"

"None at all," she replied coolly. She had decided that, handsome or not, this gentleman's flippant manner made him difficult to bear.

"I wonder," Mathieson mused, then fell silent.

It was a quiet trip once outside the city, the only sounds being those of the creaking panels, galloping horses, and occasional crack of the whip. Anne leaned back and tried to doze, but Mathieson's question bothered her all out of reason, so that instead she tried to arrive at his motivation for asking it. After spending what seemed an eternity in an extremely uncomfortable state between waking and sleeping, she felt the carriage slow and then stop.

The door opened, the steps let down, and from the darkness she heard the Marquis. "We must walk from here so that they do not hear us approach."

Then they were all stumbling through the forest in the dark, up and down hills, following Mathieson, who seemed to be the only one who knew exactly where they were going. At last they drew near a faint light. Mathieson turned his head and whispered, "Quiet, all." They made their way cautiously toward the clearing from which the light exuded, which was in a hollow set between hills. They all four laid on their bellies at the top of the hill and looked down.

In the clearing stood five gentlemen, clearly arguing about something. From this distance their argument could not be heard, but the subject of it could hardly be in doubt: one of the men held in his hand the gigantic sapphire. Theo made a slight noise, quickly suppressed, at this sight. At last the argument seemed to be winding to a resolution, for the man holding the Star of the Sea turned about as if to walk away. Suddenly one of the gentlemen, his back to the watchers, pulled out a pistol and shot the other man in the back.

Anne could scarcely restrain her exclamation of shock and horror. She felt the Marquis jerk beside her and heard Mathieson mutter, "Mon Dieu!" Theo seemed unmoved, all his attention was fixed on the jewel.

The armed man walked casually over to the fallen ruffian, picked the gem up, and turned to face the remaining men, thus affording the unknown observers with a good look at his face.

This time Anne could not quite control herself. She whispered in complete astonishment, "Lud! He is supposed to be in India!"

Seaforth turned his head and fixed her with a piercing gray gaze. She had a strange feeling that he was not at all surprised by his reaction. He asked, "Do you say you know that man?"

She gulped and nodded. "He is my Uncle Paul!"