"Mrs. Lawrence, there are no tables; may I join you?" The sudden presence of Mr. Underwood at her shoulder startled her.
    "Yes, by all means, Mr. Underwood. How is your wife?"
    "My poor dear Caroline." He said no more about his poor dear Caroline, leaving it to Emily to decide what he meant. Giving this sad statement a moment to sink in, he brightened and said, "I've found out a great deal about you in the few weeks you have been here."
    "Yes, I'm sure you have. My address for one thing. What else have you found out, Mr. Underwood?"
    "You came back to Cambridge just about a month ago and you're living in a boarding house on Dana Street. You were a famous lady detective in Washington, and," he paused for effect, "there is no Mr. Lawrence."
    Emily laughed. "Hardly famous, and there is no such thing as a lady detective. Too many of the things we do are so unladylike. Like having lunch with men to whom we have not been properly introduced."
    "And Mr. Lawrence?" he asked.
    "There may not be a Mr. Lawrence but there is a Mrs. Underwood."
FRead A Pleasant Place to Die, March 1892

    The bed had been slept in, but not made up. Sheets and blankets were spread out every which way. Emily had expected the man in the attic to be an escaped slave, and was surprised to find herself staring into clear blue eyes above a blond beard.
    She was even more surprised to find herself staring into the barrel of the revolver the blond man was pointing at her.
    "Do you have to kill me because I have seen you?" asked Emily, her voice sounding braver than she felt.
    "It's not considered polite to kill the children of the man who is trying to save your life. You must be Emily. Your father said I might be seeing you, but I didn't expect it to be so soon."
FRead The Man in the Attic, 1859, and learn a little bit about Emily's childhood