So I wrote the dinner party invitations. After I gave the invitations to Pearson, I sat at my desk, thinking.
Air’s little brother dead, his youngest brother missing.
Grief threatened to crush me every time I let myself think of this. But if I were to have any chance of helping David, I knew I must force myself to.
A false note on Madame Biltcliffe’s stationery. A Red Dog card in my pocket at the Ball. The card on my doorstep.
The card on my doorstep was the true mystery. Who could step onto our street in front of the Kerr coachmen, without being challenged? Not a slum boy or a hired waiter.
But then I remembered: the constables found Herbert Bryce in the Diamond quadrant.
I clasped my hands to my face in horror.
Jack Diamond.
If that madman had harmed those boys, he would regret t
