I very nearly jumped out of my skin when, not so long after, the butler's voice spoke just behind me.

  "Lady Eizenstrauss will take you in her gallery," his voice made up for the silence of his approach. How on earth had he snuck up on me? Such a large and open room as this carried footsteps throughout, yet had I been so absorbed in my investigations that I simply not heard? Moreover, how long had I been idling about the room? And how long had he been standing there?

  "Er, yes, of course," I said, floundering a little to try and reclaim my dignity.

  He smiled faintly, and annoyingly enough, with the vaguest hint of a triumphant glimmer in his eyes, and bowed gently, motioning to me. "This way, please."

  Just as before, the odd noise follow in his wake, and though I tried to pretend I didn't hear, I nevertheless stole a glance at his person as we went, ultimately coming up short. I was growing perplexed to the point where I very nearly though to simply ask him the question aloud when suddenly came to a halt before a door at the end of the upper hallway.

  The room beyond was lit only by the ample glow of a fireplace, which dominated nearly an entire wall. Unlike downstairs, which was pleasant and light, this room had an altogether different feeling, with red walls and maroon trimmings, and the floor was made of a black marble that I could almost see a vague reflection of myself looking back up at me when I gazed down.

  This was clearly some sort of sitting room, as evident by a large congregation of arm chairs arranged near the fire. One of the walls was lined with books, while in the corner sat an elegant and elaborately patterned piano, its keys yellowed and its casing showing signs of wear.

  This, I thought, must have been the instrument responsible for the song I heard earlier, but as I looked around, I could not find its artiste. Or rather, not at first.

  "Come forward, Miss Cleyne," came a voice from the closest armchair, which faced away from the door. It was a firm, but delicate voice, and one that conjured a sense of familiarity with me. I had heard it before, but where?

  I didn't take the time to mull it over, and stepped carefully towards the seating area, the warm orange light of the fire illuminating my startled form as I rounded the corner.

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  There, sitting like a porcelain doll in a chair much too large for her, was the strange young woman that had seized upon me in the Garden Plaza!

  "You?!" I all but blurted out, though quickly tried to correct my misstep, clearing my throat. This was the second time in the same night when my mannerisms failed me, and while it was clear by the irritating smirk on her face that my host was more than entertained by my ruffled demeanor, I was none too pleased to have been so very obviously made a fool of.

  "My, but you're so cute when you're flustered," she remarked. The grin had faded, but her eyes still held that leer of amusement, and she sat, looking at me expectantly. I felt a touch of warmth on my cheeks that I couldn't rightly ascribe to the fireplace, and came to stand fully before her.

  Trying once again to salvage my dignity, I gave her an effeminate bow, and stepped back. This elicited an approving smile from her thin pink lips, and with a wave of her green-silk gloved hand, she directed me towards one of the other nearby armchairs.

  Once seated, I cleared my throat and met her gaze.

  "I understand you're have need to speak with me. Is that correct, Miss Cleyne?" her provocative tone accosted me from across the little coffee table between us. In response, I tried to sound professional.

  "Thank you for seeing me, your Ladyship," I started. She grimaced slightly my formality, clearly disappointed, but said nothing and simply nodding for me to continue. "I apologize for disturbing your evening, but there was an issue pertaining to one of the letters in my evening's parcel."

  Of course, this little interaction was nothing more than standard procedure. She already knew why I was here, and even as I said the words, the butler appeared at the arm of her chair, proffering the item in question.

  "Ah, yes," she took it with a flick of her wrist, examining it. "It would seem that in my haste, I missed a stroke and marred the address. It would seem I've inconvenienced you."

  I knew what this was. "I'm sure that her Ladyship has far more important matters to bear in mind than something so simple as this. She need not apologize for such a simple thing."

  "Is that so?" Her tone this time was slightly pretentious, and her eyes turned from the letter to meet mine. They held me for a wisp of time before she relaxed again and continued. "You are too kind, Miss Cleyne, and a far cry more lenient than most. I shall see to it that you are rewarded adequately for your vigilant attention to detail."

  "It really was no trouble, my Lady," I said. This time it was my turn to smile sweetly. "I only wished to help—" My words caught in my throat. All the while I, too, had been studying her intently, trying to get a more familiar bead on her character, but nothing stood out. Or rather, not until my glance fell on a glint.

  Unlike her right hand, which was gloved to the elbow, her right was encased in what amounted to a decorative metal gauntlet, from which hung four links of a large chain.

  And the chain…was moving…