Chapter Seven
Violet closed her window, drew the curtains, and opened the shades on the dark lantern she’d left on the hearth. It became much easier to see. She looked at the bandbox sitting so temptingly on the floor and then glanced at the clock. The hour hand was pointing to 4.
Wintersmith had said there were more than two hundred drawings in the box. She didn’t intend to flick through them, as he’d done; she intended to scrutinize them thoroughly. All two hundred and more of them. If she started now, she’d still be up at dawn.
That thought triggered a yawn—and a decision. Arguably the first sensible decision she’d made that night. Lord, what an i***t she’d been, letting Wintersmith catch her not once, but twice!
Violet screwed her face up in a grimace. She needed to tell Rhodes tha
