The long scrape of a boot sliding on gravel stopped him cold. He turned swiftly, putting Lavinia behind him.
“Who goes there?” he said. “Show yourself.”
There was movement on the other side of the hedge. A low, hulking figure slithered around the corner of the bristling greenery and came to a halt at the edge of a patch of moonlight. He wore a many-tiered greatcoat that cloaked him from neck to ankle. A shapeless hat was pulled down over his face. He stood slanted and hunched, a walking stick in one hand.
“Forgive me if I am interrupting,” the stranger rasped in a bruised voice. “I assumed the two of ye had finished your business in the conservatory.”
Lavinia peered at the strange little man over Tobias’s shoulder. “Who are you, sir?”
“Mr. Nightingale, I presume?” Tobias did not take his eyes off the newcomer. “I was told you preferred to meet under cover of darkness.”
“Aye, sir, that I do. Darkness offers a cloak of privacy that is difficult to obtain in any other way.” Mr. Nightingale sketched a small bow. “A pleasure to meet ye both.”
“How did you get into this garden?” Lavinia asked. “Lady Stillwater maintains a small army of servants. I cannot imagine how you managed to slip past them.”
“On a night such as this, with so many people coming and going, it was quite a simple matter to get past the footmen at the front door. Rest assured, I do not intend to stay long.” He chuckled hoarsely at some private joke. “I have no great interest in dancing.”
“What do you want with us?” Tobias asked.
“Rumor has it that ye are looking for a certain artifact.”
“To be precise, we are looking for the person who murdered a woman in order to steal the artifact,” Lavinia said.
Mr. Nightingale made a lumpy movement that was no doubt intended to be a shrug. “Either way, ye’re looking for the Blue Medusa, are ye not?”
“Well, yes,” Lavinia agreed. “If we discover it, we’ll no doubt learn the identity of the killer. Can you help us?”
“I’ve got no interest in murderers, although I wish ye well in your hunt,” Mr. Nightingale said. “Generally speaking, murder is bad for me business. Oh, I’ll admit that it does add a bit of spice now and again and sometimes drives up the prices in certain quarters. But unfortunately, it can just as often lower them. There are any number of clients who get nervous when there’s murder involved, ye see.”
“What is your interest in the bracelet?” Tobias asked.
“Have ye heard of a small, very exclusive club known as the Connoisseurs?” Mr. Nightingale asked softly.
Lavinia inhaled sharply, a small, startled gasp. But she kept silent.
“We know of it,” Tobias said. “What does it have to do with this case?”
“The number of members is limited. Openings occur rarely. They come about only when a member dies, quits, or is tossed out of the club. Competition to join the club is fierce.”
“Go on,” Tobias said.
“As it happens,” Mr. Nightingale continued softly, “such an opening has existed for a year now and word has gone out that it will at last be filled. Rumor has it that the Connoisseurs is accepting applications.”
“Prospective members must present an artifact for the club’s private museum of curiosities, I believe,” Tobias said. “The person whose offering is judged the most suitable will be admitted to the club.”
“You are well informed, Mr. March.” Nightingale nodded approvingly. “The Keeper of the club’s museum makes the final decision, and the deadline for applications is less than a fortnight away.”
“You think the Blue Medusa will appeal to the Keeper, is that it?” Tobias asked.
“The Keeper is known to have a strong preference for British-Roman antiquities. They say he has a passion for ‘em.” Mr. Nightingale shook his head. “Don’t understand it meself. Most collectors of a truly discriminating nature prefer relics from the ancient ruins abroad. Hard to compare a cameo found in some English farmer’s field with a fine statue discovered in Pompeii, if you ask me. But there ye have it. Each to his own, I suppose.”
“Given the Keeper’s personal preference for artifacts discovered in England,” Lavinia said, “the Blue Medusa would suffice nicely as a membership offering for the club’s private museum.”
“Aye.” Mr. Nightingale’s eyes gleamed briefly in the deep shadow of his shapeless hat. “I believe it’s fair to say that whoever presents it to the Keeper will be admitted to the Connoisseurs.”
“What precisely is your interest in the bracelet?” Tobias asked. “Thinking of applying for admission?”
“Me?” Nightingale gave his raw laugh again, as if Tobias had said something vastly entertaining. “I’ve no wish to join a fancy club. My interest is in the money to be made in the process. I intend to hold a very private auction, ye see. I will invite only certain exclusive persons to bid.”
“Persons who are anxious to join the Connoisseurs and will pay whatever it takes to obtain the relic that will ensure admission, is that it?” Tobias asked.
“Precisely,” Mr. Nightingale said.
“Assuming we find the bracelet,” Tobias said, “why the devil should we turn it over to you?”
“I hear ye’re a man of business, sir. I’m offering a business proposition. If ye and your associate here turn up the bracelet, I am prepared to pay ye a handsome fee.”
“I’m afraid it will be quite impossible for us to turn the bracelet over to you,” Lavinia said briskly.
Tobias cleared his throat. “Uh, Lavinia-”
“If we should happen to locate it,” she continued, “we would be obliged to return it to its rightful owner.”
“Who will soon be dead, according to the rumors I’ve heard.” Mr. Nightingale snorted softly. “Where he’s going, I doubt he’ll have any need of it.”
“That doesn’t mean that you have any right to steal it from his estate,” Lavinia snapped.
Tobias tried again. “Lavinia, I think you’ve said enough.”
“I’m not talking about stealing the bloody bracelet,” Mr. Nightingale growled. “I’m discussing a business proposition.”
Lavinia raised her chin and looked down her nose at Nightingale. The little man was, Tobias thought, one of the few people in the world whom she could look down at, given her own stature.
“My associate and I do not engage in illicit bargains of the sort you are describing,” she said coldly. “Is that not correct, Mr. March?”
“It might be possible to fulfill our commission and engage in a legal bargain that is profitable for all concerned,” Tobias said carefully.
Lavinia and Mr. Nightingale both looked at him.
“Just how do you intend to accomplish that?” Lavinia demanded.
“I’m not certain yet,” he admitted. “But given the amount of money at stake in this affair, I fully expect inspiration to strike at some point.”
Mr. Nightingale gargled. “A man after me own heart, ye are, sir. Not one to let a golden opportunity slip through your fingers, are ye?”
“Not if I can help it,” Tobias said. “Given that you have asked for our assistance, I have a few questions for you.”
“What sort of questions?”
“Have you heard any rumors at all about the mesmerist’s wife?”
“The lady who was murdered in this affair?” Mr. Nightingale moved his twisted frame in a negative motion. “They say she conspired with her lover to steal the bracelet. Some say that when the deed was done, he strangled her and took the damned thing. Others say her husband followed her to the rendezvous that night and murdered her. Either way the antiquity has vanished. That is all I know.”
Tobias watched him. “But the Medusa has not come up for sale on the underworld market or else you would not be seeking our assistance.”
“Ye have the right of it, sir,” Mr. Nightingale said. “Been no rumors of the damned thing being offered for sale. None at all.”