The coach moved slowly through the bustling London streets. Margaret Hawthorne studied the handsome, stern, obviously angry profile of the man beside her.

"Did anyone ever mention what a wonderfully handsome man you are William? You do have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. What color are they? It is so hard to tell. Sometimes, like now, they look almost navy blue and at other times I'd swear they were amber."

He turned slightly to face her, not losing his frown. "They seem darker when I am angry."

"I see. Well, you really should not be angry. I am doing this to help you," she sighed, "How old are you now, William?"

"Old enough to know better," Inspector William Morgan managed to give his companion a small smile. "This is highly unethical, Margaret."

"Posh! I say you must be 35 and still without a wife. It is time for that to change."

"I am 31. If you will remember, I had a wife in mind two years ago. You did everything you could to keep that from happening."

"I may have made a mistake with all that. Since that time you have not had a serious female friendship so you must still have feelings for Charlotte."

"Too much water...as they say. I have many 'friendships' and Charlotte is married, in case you have forgotten."

"And now, William, she is separated and very unhappy."

He shrugged. "She misses her husband. They will, no doubt, reconcile in time."

"I doubt that. According to my mother, Charlotte is holding back 'something shocking'. I am going to find out just what this is and you are going to be listening!"

"Just how will we do that?"