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I’ll bet she did, Ford thought. Just as she had probably arranged the theft in the first place, for the purpose of showing the Black Key’s power, to convince Auntie Q.

“As a matter effect,” Auntie Q said, “Seraphine felt a bit guilty, I think. She had been the one to suggest that I needed another maid, with the Season coming on, and she’d given me the name of the agency.”

“I see.” He saw, indeed. What he did not know yet was just why Seraphine perceived him as a threat—or why his aunt had taken in Madame Flaubert at all. “How long has Madame Flaubert been your companion?”

Auntie Q shifted in her seat, unfolded and refolded her hands. “Since . . . since a few months after . . . after ...” Her mouth worked but she couldn’t seem to get the words out. Finally she said, “I ... I can’t quite talk about that, dear, so please don’t ask me.”

Ford stared at her, his own miseries forgotten. Whatever else was going on, whatever Auntie Q knew that might help Sassinak against the planet pirates, he had to get Madame Flaubert away from his aunt.

He said as gently as he could, “I’m sorry, Aunt Quesada. I didn’t mean to distress you. And whatever the Black Key may have intimated, I promise you I mean you no harm.”

“I want to believe you!” Now the old face crumpled. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “You’re the first—the only family that’s come to see me in years—and I liked you!”

He hitched himself up in bed, ignoring the wave of blurred vision.

“My dear, please! I’ve admitted my father was wrong about you. I think you’re marvelous.”

“She said you’d flatter me.”

Complex in that were the wish to be flattered, and the desire not to be fooled.

“I suppose I have, if praise is flattery. But, dear Aunt, I never knew anybody with enough nerve to get two Ryxi tailfeathers! How can I not flatter you?”

Auntie Q sniffed, and wiped her face with a lace-edged kerchief. “She keeps telling me that’s a vulgar triumph, that I should be ashamed.”

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