New York - The Novel

you.”
    “Oh.”
    “What do you know about her?”
    “Not a lot.”
    “Well, I know a great deal.” She watched Lily for a moment. “Would you like to know?” And when Lily hesitated: “Miss Donna Clipp is a little witch. She’s digging for gold. Not only that—she was prosecuted for theft, in Philadelphia. I have proof.”
    “I see.”
    “I’ve had a lawyer investigate her. Frank paid for the lawyer, of course, though he doesn’t know it. He thought he was paying for curtains. She cares nothing for him. But she’s after his money.”
    “I suppose you think that of me too,” said Lily sadly.
    “Not at all, my dear. I’m sure he’s generous, but he can afford to be. Not that I think little Miss Clipp will succeed in getting much out of him. Frank’s not a fool when it comes to money, but she might kill him while she’s trying.” She sighed. “We both know my husband’s getting old. And he’s vain, like most men. She’s a young woman—she’s only thirty, you know—and I’m sure he wants to prove himself.”
    “And you think it might be too much for his heart?”
    “Don’t you?”
    “Perhaps,” said Lily.
    Hetty looked hard at her. “Do you love my husband?”
    “I have grown very fond of him.”
    “Then you’ll help me.”
    “To do what?”
    “Why, to get rid of this young woman, my dear. We have to get rid of Donna Clipp.”

    When Mary O’Donnell had heard that Lily de Chantal was coming to tea with Mrs. Master, she had been surprised. She knew that the two women were only vaguely acquainted; she supposed Mrs. Master might be wanting the singer to perform at one of her charity events. When she was told that Mrs. Master wanted to see her as well, she couldn’t imagine why.
    She found the two of them sitting quite easily together on a sofa.
    “Now, Mary dear,” Mrs. Master announced with a smile, “we need your help.”
    “Yes, Mrs. Master,” said Mary. Whatever could she want?
    “We’ve known each other many years, Mary,” Mrs. Master continued, “and now I have to ask you to be very honest with me, and to keep a secret as well. Would you do that for me? Would you promise?”
    After thirty-five years of kindness?
    “Yes, Mrs. Master, I promise.”
    “Well, then. I am worried about my husband. And so is Miss de Chantal. Miss de Chantal is a dear friend of my husband.” She smiled at Lily. “We are both worried about him, Mary, and we think that perhaps you can help.”
    Mary stared at her. What was she saying? How much did she know?
    “Your brother Sean has had dealings with my husband for many years, as you know, Mary. And Miss de Chantal tells me that your brother knows her too. What we need to know is, has your brother ever talked about Miss de Chantal?”
    “About Miss de Chantal?”
    “Yes. As a friend of my husband?”
    “Why …” And Mary, despite her promise, was about to tell a lie. Except that she blushed. And Mrs. Master saw it.
    “It’s all right, Mary,” said Hetty Master. “I’ve known for twenty years. How long have you known?”
    “Ten,” said Mary, awkwardly.
    “Sean told you?”
    Mary nodded. He’d kept it to himself for a long time, you had to give him that, but in the end he’d told her.
    “Good,” said Mrs. Master, “that might be helpful. And has he told you about Miss Donna Clipp?”
    “Miss Clipp?” Mary hesitated. “I don’t know the name.” This was true. Two weeks ago, Sean had muttered that Master was making a fool of himself, and that at his age he’d better be careful. But that was all he’d said.
    “Well, that’s her name. Now, Mary, we need your help. Mr. Master is not a young man, and we must protect him. When are you next seeing your brother?”
    “I often go to see him on Saturdays,” said Mary.
    “That’s tomorrow,” said Hetty Master, with great satisfaction. “Could you see him then?”
    “I could if you want.”
    “Then here’s what we need you to do.”

    There was no doubt, Sean thought, that Gabriel Love’s plan was a work of art. And part of the beauty of the thing was that it was not what you’d expect Daddy Love to do.
    Daddy Love liked to sell short. If he sensed that the market was going down, or better yet, if he had private information that a stock was going to be in trouble, then he’d offer to sell you a parcel of shares, at a future date, for well under their present price. Like a fool, you’d suppose you had a bargain. And sure as fate, when the day arrived, the price