the amused Londoner. Then book us into the Carmelites. You'll escort Madame Scarlatti there tomorrow.'
'As you say.'
'Just one minute, gentlemen. I do not consent! I'm sure Mr. Derek will adhere to my wishes.'
Terribly sorry, madame. My instructions are to take orders from Mr. Canfield.'
'And we have an agreement, Madame Scarlatti, or do you want to tear it up?'
'What can I possibly say to such people? I simply cannot stand that voodoo mumbo jumbo coming from Rome!'
'You'll be spared that discomfort, madame,' said Mr. Derek. 'There's a vow of silence. You'll not hear from anyone.'
'Contemplate,' added the field accountant. 'Good for the immortal soul.'
Chapter Twenty-three
YORK, ENGLAND, August 12, 1926 - The famed Abbey of York sustained a damaging explosion and fire at dawn this morning in its west wing, the residential quarters of the religious order. An undisclosed number of sisters and novices were killed in the tragic occurrence. It was believed that the explosion was due to a malfunction in the heating system recently installed by the order.
Canfield read the story in the ship's newspaper one day before arriving in New York.
They do their homework well, he thought. And although the price was painfully high, it proved two points conclusively; the press releases were read and Madame Scarlatti was marked.
The field accountant reached into his pocket and took out the old woman's letter to Janet Scarlett. He'd read it many times and thought it effective. He read it once more.
My dear Child:
I am aware that you are not particularly fond of me and accept the fact as my loss. You have every right to feel as you do - the Scarlattis have not been pleasant people with whom to be associated. However, for whatever reasons and regardless of the pain you have been caused, you are now a Scarlatti and you have borne a Scarlatti into this world. Perhaps you will be the one who will make us better than we are.
I do not make this statement lightly or out of sentiment. History has shown that the least expected among us often emerge splendidly because of the grave responsibilities placed upon them. I ask you to consider this possibility.
I further ask you to give deep consideration to what Mr. Matthew Canfield will tell you. I trust him. I do so because he has saved my life and nearly lost his own in so doing. His interests and ours are inextricably bound together. He will tell you what he can and he will ask of you a great deal.
I am a very, very old woman, my dear, and do not have much time. What months or years I do have (precious perhaps only to me) may well be cut short in a fashion I'd like to believe is not the will of God. Naturally, I accept this risk gladly as the head of the house of Scarlatti, and if I can spend what time I have left preventing a great dishonor upon our family, I will join my husband with a grateful heart.
Through Mr. Canfield, I await your answer. If it is as I suspect, we will be together shortly and you will have gladdened me far beyond that which I deserve. If it is not, you still have my affection and, believe me when I say, my understanding.
Elizabeth Wyckham Scarlatti.
Canfield replaced the letter in the envelope. It was quite good, he thought again. It explained nothing and asked for implicit trust that the unsaid explanation was vitally urgent. If he did his job, the girl would be coming back to England with him. If he failed to persuade her, an alternative would have to be found.
The Ulster Scarlett brownstone on Fifty-fourth Street was being repainted and sandblasted. There were several scaffolds lowered from the roof and a number of workmen diligently at their crafts. The heavy Checker cab pulled up in front of the entrance and Matthew Canfield walked up the steps. He rang the bell; the door was opened by the obese housekeeper.
'Good afternoon, Hannah. I don't know if you remember, but my name's Canfield. Matthew Canfield to see Mrs. Scarlett.'
Hannah did not budge or offer entrance. 'Does Mrs. Scarlett expect you?'
'Not formally, but I'm sure she'll see me.' He had had no intention of phoning. It would have been too easy for her to refuse.
'I don't know if madame is in, sir.'
'Then I'll just have to wait. Shall it be here on the stairs?'
Hannah reluctantly made way for the field accountant to step into the hideously colored hallway.