"It's a big house. Difficult to search thoroughly. Have you taken care of everything else?" Harry asked quietly.
Peter nodded, his blue eyes chips of ice. "Yes. One of the servants has gone to summon the magistrate. I've had Sally's body taken to one of the bedrooms. God, she was frail, Graystone. There was nothing left of her. She must have been living on spirit and willpower alone for the past few weeks."
Augusta stirred in Harry's arms and raised her head. "I shall miss her so."
"We all will." Harry stroked Augusta's back soothingly. "I shall always be extremely grateful to her."
"Because she was so brave during the war?" Augusta blinked back the tears and dabbed her eyes with Harry's handkerchief.
"No, although I have always admired her courage. The reason I shall forever be grateful to her is that it was she who suggested I arrange to meet you by contacting Sir Thomas. Sally said you should be added to my list of potential wives," Harry said candidly.
Augusta looked up, startled. "She did? How very odd. Why on earth would she think I would make you a good wife?"
Harry smiled faintly. "I asked her that question myself, as I recall. She said I would do better with a wife who was not in the classical style."
Peter closed the door. "Sally understood you very well, Graystone."
"Yes, I rather believe she did." Harry gently put Augusta a little away from him. "My friends, we must do our grieving later. The authorities will assume Sally's murder was perpetrated by thieves who attempted to break into the house. There is no point in letting them think otherwise."
"Agreed," Peter said. "Nothing they could do in any event."
"We must find the list Sally mentioned." Harry glanced down the hall, thinking how huge the house was and how long it was going to take to go through it properly. "I know something of Sally's methods for hiding items she did not want discovered. She tended to choose the obvious places, on the grounds that no one would think to look in them."
Augusta sniffed into the handkerchief. "The book."
Harry glanced at her. "What book is that?"
"Pompeia's betting book." Augusta bravely thrust the wet handkerchief deep into a pocket in her cloak and started down the hall to the drawing room. "Sally told me that if I ever found it closed, I must make certain you open it. And you heard her a few minutes ago just before she… she died. She said I must not forget the book."
Harry exchanged a glance with Peter, who simply shrugged and prepared to follow Augusta.
The door to Pompeia's was closed. Harry heard Augusta start to weep again as she opened it, but she did not hesitate. She walked into the dark, silent room and lit a lamp.
Harry glanced around, curious in spite of himself. He had visited Sally frequently, but she had never entertained him here in the drawing room after it had been turned into Pompeia's. The club was for women only, she had said. She could not violate the rules, even after hours.
"Gives a man an odd feeling, doesn't it?" Peter kept his voice down as he came to a halt next to Harry. "I was never allowed past the threshold, you know. But I always felt a little uncomfortable when I got a good look inside from the door."
"I see what you mean." Harry studied the shadowed pictures on the wall. He recognized many of them at once. They were all women who had managed to survive in myth and legend in spite of what Augusta called the general historical bias against females. Harry was beginning to wonder just how much history had been lost because it had pertained to women and had therefore been deemed unimportant.
"Makes a man curious about what females get up to and what they actually talk about when they are on their own together with no men around," Peter observed quietly. "Sally always said I'd be surprised if I knew."
"She used to tell me I'd be shocked," Harry admitted wryly.
He watched the black velvet cloak swirl around Augusta as she walked over to a Greek pedestal. There was a large, leather-bound volume lying on top.
"This is the notorious betting book?" Harry walked across the room to join Augusta.
"Yes. And it is closed. Just as she said I might someday find it." Augusta opened the volume slowly and started turning the pages. "I do not know what I am searching for."
Harry glanced at some of the entries, all in feminine handwriting.
Miss L.B. wagers Miss R.M. ten pounds that the latter will not get her journal returned in time to avert disaster.
Miss B.R. wagers Miss D.N. five pounds that Lord G will ask for the Angel's hand within the month.
Miss P.O. wagers Miss C.P. ten pounds that Miss A.B. will cry off her engagement to Lord G. within two months.
"Good God," Harry muttered. "So much for a man thinking he has some privacy."
"The ladies of Pompeia's are very fond of wagers, my lord." Augusta sniffed again. "The club will close now, I suppose. I shall miss it. It was a home to me. Nothing will ever be the same here."
Harry was about to remind Augusta that she did not need Pompeia's because she had a home of her own when a piece of notepaper fluttered between two pages of the book. "Let me see that." He snatched it up and examined the list of names.
Peter came forward to peer over his shoulder while Augusta craned her head to get a peek.
"Well?" Peter demanded.
"It's a list of names, all right. No doubt a partial membership list of the Saber Club. This is Sally's writing."
Peter scowled at the list. "I do not recognize any of those names."
"Hardly surprising." Harry pulled the lamp closer and studied the list more closely. "It's in the old code Sally was accustomed to use for her messages to me."
"How long will it take you to decode all those names?" Peter asked. "There must be at least ten there."
"Not long. But after we know who the members were, it will take some time to determine which ones could possibly be the Spider." Harry folded the paper and stuck it safely into his pocket. "Let us be off. We have much to do before dawn."
"What do you want me to do?" Augusta asked quickly.
Harry smiled grimly and readied himself for the battle ahead. "You must go home and awaken the household. Then you will see that you and Meredith are packed and ready to leave for Dorset by seven o'clock."
She stared up at him. "Seven o'clock this morning? But Harry, I do not want to leave town now that we are so close to finding Sally's killer and the identity of the Spider. You must let me stay."
"There is not a chance of me allowing you to stay. Not now that the Spider is aware of this list and will stop at nothing to get it." Harry took her arm and hauled her toward the door. "Peter, perhaps your fiancée would enjoy a short stay in Dorset?"
"I think that would be an excellent notion," Peter replied. "God knows I would just as soon she was out of town until we find the Spider, and I am certain Augusta would like the company."
"I do wish the two of you would cease making plans for me as though I were not able to think for myself," Augusta said loudly. "I do not want to go to Dorset."
"But you will," Harry said calmly.
"Harry, please—"
He thought fast, searching for the most effective lever to use in this argument. When he found it, he applied it mercilessly. "It is not just your own pretty neck I am worried about, Augusta. There is Meredith to consider. I must be certain my daughter is safe. We are dealing with a monster and we do not know to what depths he will sink."
Augusta was clearly thunderstruck by the implications. "You believe he might threaten Meredith? But why would he do that, my lord?"
"Is it not obvious? If the Spider reasons I am the one trying to find him, he could use Meredith to get at me."
"Oh, yes. I see what you mean. Your daughter is your one great weakness. He might know that."
You are wrong about that, Augusta. I have two great weaknesses. You are the other, Harry thought. He said nothing aloud, however. Let her think his chief concern was Meredith and that he was depending on her to take care of his daughter. It was her nature to go to the rescue and defend the innocent. "Please, Augusta. I need your help. I must know Meredith is safely out of the city before I can concentrate on finding the Spider."