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him. To this day we do not know if her reaction was
an excellent bit of acting on her part or if she truly did not realize who he
was."
"Why wouldn't she recognize one of her victims?" Gabriel asked.
"The contact was brief and the lighting was low," Pierce explained. "They
passed eacli other in the corridor outside one of the boxes." He paused. "On
that particular evening my friend happened to be attired in a somewhat
different manner than when he had consulted with her. You know how it is, when
one sees someone who is out of context, so to speak."
"One sees what one expects to see," Gabriel said, looking at Venetia in her
gentleman's clothes.
Harrow angled himself onto the corner of the desk again. He glanced first at
Gabriel and then at Venetia.
"You both seem extremely concerned about Mrs. Fleming," he observed.
"Yes," she said.
"Do you mind telling us why?" Harrow asked. "It is unfortunate that Ackland
took a notion to commission you to photograph Mrs. Fleming but it is hardly
surprising. He is, after all, besotted with his paramour, and you are a very
fashionable photographer. It seems natural that he would want you to take her
portrait."
"The unnatural aspect of the matter is that Mrs. Fleming appears to have
conceived a wholly irrational hatred of my person," Venetia said. "My aunt
thinks that Fleming is merely jealous because I have
created a profitable career for myself while she is forced to rely on the
likes of Lord Ackland for
financial security. But I believe there may be more to it than that."
"What makes you say that?" Pierce asked, frowning slightly.
She shook her head. "I cannot give you a logical answer. Perhaps it is just
that I find it difficult to believe someone could dislike me so much when I
have done nothing to offend."
"Burton disliked you quite intensely," Harrow reminded her.
"Yes, but in that case there was some explanation. Evidently, Mr. Burton
disliked all women and me in particular because I was in the same profession
as himself. But Mrs. Fleming's reaction to me seemed
out of all proportion."
"I take your point." Pierce put his fingertips together again. He looked at
Gabriel. "For what it is worth, my advice is to be on guard at all times. In
her former line of work Mrs. Fleming was obviously very adept at ferreting out
a person's most closely held confidences. To this day my friend has no notion
of how she acquired knowledge of his secret."
"Surely he must have some idea of how she learned it," Gabriel said.
Pierce exhaled heavily. "No. In fact, I must tell you that, although I am
extremely skeptical of all those charlatans and frauds who claim psychical
powers, I have sometimes wondered if Rosalind Fleming actually does possess
some paranormal talent. My friend swears that the only way she could have got
the secret out of him is if she really does have access to the Other Side. Or
else "
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"Or else what?" Venetia asked.
Pierce shrugged his broad shoulders. "Or else she can read minds."
28
Venetia watched the dark street through the carriage window as the lights of
the Janus Club disappeared into the fog.
Gabriel had spoken very little since they had left Harrow and Pierce. She knew
that he was contemplating the same unsettling possibility that had sent her
into a meditative mood after the disturbing conversation.
"It is obvious that Pierce is a man of logic and reason who is loath to
believe that Rosalind Fleming actually possesses some psychical powers," she
said slowly. "But we both know that such abilities do exist. What is your
opinion?"
"I think," Gabriel said, "that what we have here is either another astonishing
coincidence or a genuine clue."
She smiled wryly. "I can guess which you suspect."
He had turned the carriage lamps down very low, drenching the interior of the
vehicle in shadow. She knew that he did not want to take a chance that someone
in a passing cab might see her and recognize
her in her gentleman's attire. There was little chance of that, she thought.
The streets were so choked with fog now that she was amazed that the driver
and his horses could find their way back to Sutton Lane.
A thought struck her, sending a deep, cold shudder through her entire body.
"If Mrs. Fleming does possess psychical powers, I suppose we must consider the
possibility that she somehow read my mind the day I photographed her," she
whispered.
"Calm yourself. Mind reading is a parlor trick, nothing more."
She wanted desperately to take comfort in his reassurance. "How can you be
certain of that?"
"The records of Arcane House research are very extensive. They go back some
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