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some electrical charge had passed between the two men. He looked momentarily frantic, eyes skittish.
    Arthur turned, and looked towards the back of the room, at an open door through which Lillian could see a poky hall.
    ‘Arthur?’
    Arthur said nothing, but marched through the door immediately. By the time Dresden and his wife mustered a protest, Arthur’s footsteps could be heard on the stairs. Dresden rushed after him, Lillian close behind, the man’s wife hesitantly bringing up the rear.
    Lillian followed Dresden into a small bedroom. The man had stopped, half-blocking the doorway, and so Lillian pushed past him, and saw that he was gawping at Arthur, dumbfounded.
    Arthur held a large box. By his feet, a rug had been thrown back, and two loose boards removed. Sir Arthur Furnival was like a one-man divining rod at times.
    ‘Now, what do we have here?’ Arthur said, opening the tin and rifling through the contents. ‘Calling cards, gentleman’s gloves, a silver watch, and… this.’ He held up a small handkerchief, and then winced as some premonition came over him.
    ‘How did you—’ Dresden started.
    ‘I warned you about my father’s Majestics,’ Lillian said. ‘Now, what’s all this?’
    ‘Nothing… much,’ he gulped. ‘A few keepsakes, s’all. Dropped in the cab, like, and never claimed.’
    ‘And what does the cabman’s code say about lost items, Mr. Dresden?’
    ‘I… um…’ Dresden was defeated. Even if his crimes were small, he had become embroiled in a bad business, and now crumbled beneath the hard stares of two agents of the Crown, not to mention his formidable wife.
    ‘Lillian,’ Arthur said. ‘This was hers. And the man she was with that night… he is not a man to be trifled with. I can feel it.’
    * * *
    ‘Well, he was lying when he said he took the gentleman nowhere else,’ Arthur said, as he and Lillian walked along Butcher Row, attracting nervous and curious glances from the impoverished denizens.
    ‘Really, Arthur, I don’t require your powers to see that. The real question is, why? I’d wager he was paid more than a few extra shillings for his silence.’
    ‘No,’ said Arthur. ‘I don’t believe it was out of loyalty to a paymaster; he was frightened.’
    ‘Our man threatened him, then.’
    ‘Perhaps, though I sense it was something more. Maybe we’ll find our answers in Seven Dials. Or maybe we’ll have to follow through on your threat and bring Dresden in.’
    Lillian winced inwardly. She would betray no weakness to Arthur, but she did not relish the thought of condemning Dresden to the attentions of the Nightwatch. The Order’s cabal of pet Majestics were different from Arthur; they would take a man like Jeremiah Dresden apart, piece by piece, until his secrets—his soul—were laid bare. Whether they would successfully put him back together again was another matter entirely.
    ‘I’d rather you didn’t mention my father during these interviews,’ Lillian said at last. ‘It was unnecessary.’
    ‘My apologies. It seemed the more expedient method.’
    ‘It was, but I’d rather you didn’t, all the same.’ She thought of her brother. John lived in their illustrious father’s shadow just as she did, but he had managed to forge a reputation in his own right, despite his youth. John would never use the Hardwick name to further his own ends. He wouldn’t have to.
    Sir Arthur softened, and held out his arm. Lillian smiled, and took it.
    ‘I am yours to command, dear lady,’ he said.
    ‘Very good. Then hail us a cab, and we shall away to the Dials.’
    * * *
    John felt himself falling before he even knew that his legs had been taken from under him. He hit the wooden floor of the gymnasium hard, forcing the air from his lungs. The familiar, single clap of hard hands punctuated his dismay.
    ‘No, no. Again!’
    John turned his head with a groan, to see Mrs. Ito staring disapprovingly at him. The diminutive Japanese woman was a curiosity and a terror in