Miss Golf curtsied. “You know my sister. Karla Bettelmann?”
“Oh! I do indeed!” So that was why she looked familiar. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”
Miss Golf glanced at the Clubb carriage which now stood outside. “I must go. Enjoy your tea!”
Tenni followed the woman to the door. Once she’d left, Tenni locked the door, turning the placard on it to “Closed — entry by appointment only.” Then she turned to me. “I hope you’re well?”
“I am.” I pointed to the inscription at the base of the window. “I like that very much.”
“Monsieur Sabacc insisted on it.”
Monsieur was the chef for Spadros Manor. More to the point, he’d been Madame’s husband. Madame had left him to come here, and he’d thought her dead until he learned of her murder by the Red Dog Gang.
Because of me.
Tenni took my arm. “
