Tristan didn't like this. Perhaps it was the stress of the day - Pippa's sickness, the discovery of the mental state and the consequences it might or should have, the savage argument with his sister - on top of the financial stress and worry for Pippa of the past few months, that now made him overly suspicious. But this didn't look right. Why was a young lady from Pippa's former social circles staying at an inn and not a proper hotel? How had she found Pippa, when Pippa had crossed the ocean and kept a low profile (though not as low as Tristan would have liked at times)? Was this really the work of a young lady, a friend of Pippa's, concerned for her welfare? Or was there something darker at play? Was there a kernel of truth still in Pippa's paranoid ravings? He wondered if he should have brought the handgun.

He was inconspicuously dressed in black suit and hat with a black coat when he entered the establishment. The note that had arrived at his address earlier was in his pocket. He had checked the name, just before entering. Zimmermann. 'Ms' Zimmerman. German? Jewish? It was a rather unusual name to choose for a con artist, he had to admit. There was some hope in that.

Ignoring his sweaty palms and undoubtedly high blood pressure, Tristan made his way to the bar and asked for a 'Ms Zimmerman and tell her there was a Mr. Wells to see her'. The man behind the bar looked him up and down skeptically. "I was sent for," Tristan added, wondering how long he had had the headache he was suddenly aware of. The day was a haze. At least the barman told a lady to inform Ms. Zimmerman.

While he waited, he wondered how Penelope was faring with Pippa. What if Pippa took a turn for the worse while he was out? What if Penelope couldn't handle her?

What if Penelope did something rash...?