"What about Mrs. Millen?" the butler asked.
"Police." Lee bit out. "Send someone for the police."
"But there will be scandal," the butler replied, appalled by the idea.
"What does it matter?" Willis asked. "She's dead, Millen's dead, and their daughter is dead—there is nobody left to be affected by a scandal." He turned his attention back to Lee. "Can you make it to the carriage?"
Lee shook his head.
"Then wait here. I'll be right back."
"Lily Catherine," Lee whispered, grabbing at Willis's coat. "I know where she is. We've got to go after her."
Willis shook his head. "You're not going anywhere except to a doctor."
Lee woke up three days later in the Washington Hospital ward. Daniel Willis sat in a chair by his side. "I told you no hospitals."
"Yeah, well, the Madison Hotel has a no-admittance policy for gunshot victims. It seems they can't run the risk of having people die in their establishment."
"What day is it?" Lee rubbed his aching head. There was a knot the size o
f a hen's egg at the base of his skull.
"Tuesday, the sixth," Willis answered.
"I slept for three days?" Damn! Mary's birthday was the tenth of May and Lee didn't intend to miss it. He had big plans for her twenty-ninth birthday celebration and he still had to pick up the presents he'd ordered. But he had to finish his business with Willis before he could get Mary's gifts.
"You hit your head on the steps when you fell. You suffered a concussion, but the doctor says that with plenty of rest, you'll be fine."
"What about Mrs. Millen?"
Willis shook his head. "Suicide."
Lee winced. "The journal?" It had been in the pocket of his duster when he fell. He could only hope his blood hadn't made it illegible.
"It's fine. Most of your blood was absorbed by the drawers." Willis chuckled. "And I've been waiting for three days to ask you what you were doing with a pair of ladies' underwear and two hair ribbons in your coat pocket!"
"My wife's," Lee replied as if his explanation answered Willis's question or satisfied the younger man's curiosity. He hated the thought that Mary's lacy drawers and his two favors had been stained by his blood.
"Oh. I didn't know you were married." Willis shrugged his shoulders. "Well, the sisters managed to get out most of the blood. They're not as white as they once were, but your wife's under… clothing… is serviceable once again."
"Ribbons?" He grunted the question as he pushed himself up against the pillows and flipped back the covers.
"They were laundered as well. They turned out fine. I think the sisters put everything back where they found it."
"Sarrazin?"
Willis shook his head again. "No sign of him yet, but we have men watching the Millen House and the senator's office. And I still have men checking the orphanages in and around Philadelphia for Lily Catherine."
"Forget the orphanages." Lee struggled out of bed.
"You shouldn't be up. You lost a lot of blood," Willis told him. "And you're damn lucky to be alive. A few inches higher or lower and she might have killed you."
Lee glanced down at the neatly bandaged place in his side. He was stiff and sore and his muscles ached from three days of inactivity, but the burning pain in his side had faded to a dull ache and Lee figured that meant that the bullet hadn't lodged in his body or done serious damage. "Did they get the bullet out?"
"It passed right through and out the other side. That's why you bled so much."
Lee nodded. "Millen lied to David about the orphanage. Lily Catherine is with Sarrazin's mother. She lives in a row house in Philadelphia."