Adelaide hurried up the stairs inside the Lindell Hotel, her skirt hoisted to make it easier to run. The yellow silk rustled with every step. When she reached the landing one flight below her destination, she paused to catch her breath and compose herself. It would not do to enter the presence of the Veiled Prophet in her current state.

A quick glance at one of the gilded mirrors on the wall of the staircase showed her face was flushed an alarming shade of pink, her hair disheveled. Upstairs, the clock chimed seven. She was out of time. Gritting her teeth, she smoothed her hair and raised the hem of her skirt just an inch above her shoes to make her final ascent to the New Orleans room.

A stern looking matron glared at her over spectacles perched on the end of her nose as Adelaide reached the top of...

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