So far, my only clients as "Dr. Ragostin, Scientific Perditorian" had been a stout, elderly widow anxious to find her lost lapdog; a frightened lady who could not locate a valuable heart-shaped ruby which had been given to her by her husband; and an army general whose most cherished souvenir of the Crimean War had disappeared, namely, his bullet-riddled leg-bone signed by the field doctor who had amputated it.

Trifles, all. My energies should have been directed towards a far more important objective: to find Mum. I knew my mother was roaming with the Gypsies, and I had promised myself that in the spring I would track her down, not to reproach her or coerce her, only to reunite with my -- my amputated family member, so to speak.

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