Tony improved over the next few days and was able work in his study for short periods of time. I remained with him in case he needed anything; he seemed less short of breath when I stayed nearby. His men brought back reports frequently. To my surprise, Tony allowed me in the room while he heard them.

Jack Diamond, the obvious suspect for the attack, had been confined to his rooms after the fiasco at the Grand Ball. He remained there still, as confirmed by a rather large bribe to one of the maids who did his cleaning.

Mr. Julius Diamond, furious with his men for not preventing Jack’s outburst at the Ball, shot several and banished the rest to their Party Time manufacturing plant on double shift duty. They were working the night of the attack.

The family of the man whose execution Tony ordered the night of the Grand Ball seemed as baffled by the attack as anyone. They held valid and confirmed alibis for that night. Even so, Tony sent men to “encourage” them to move from the city, to prevent any ideas of revenge.

My inquiries about the Red Dogs returned one by one. Most were of little use, but one described a “chip”: a young man of about fourteen, blond, blue eyes, thin face, missing the small finger of his right hand. He was last seen in the Spadros quadrant outside the Pot placing a Red Dogs card at the scene of a crime, and the police wanted him.

* * *

The Spadros slums was a place for the desperately poor. But at least the slums had the protection of their Family. The Pot was on its own when the bullets flew.

On Tuesday, I went to the poorhouse to give out charity. I brought several of my maids, some Spadros ladies (mainly wives of Tony’s upper level men), and a carriage-truck laden with food and drink.

The scene appeared quite different on this side of the fence.

Though the sun stood high, fog still lingered, and the air was chill. Forlorn-looking men loitered near a broken steam-pipe warming themselves. Others stared at us as we passed, hoping for a handout, or perhaps a third job. Women sat on the curb holding pale crying babies. Children a bit older with drawn, hungry eyes swept the cracked sidewalks in front of their ramshackle homes.

For all their suffering, they would have insisted they were better off than in the Pot. I remembered women across the fence calling us whores, as if providing for your children by the sweat of your brow was a foul thing, while their own children starved. They only offered us scorn, and I never gave them any of Ma’s bread. After I was taken from the Pot, it haunted me, wondering if their children had survived.

Air’s head came to my shoulder, and he panted, trying to keep up. “Jacqui, please, let’s go home. I’ll get you a dollar another way.”

I stopped and faced him. “What’s wrong with you? You coughed blood! With a dollar you could get medicine and get better.”

Air stared at me. “Some sell little kids.”

“So?” People bought little kids by the hour in Ma’s place every night. Except me. I feared I wasn’t good enough.

“Not for that.” Air’s lower lip quivered, and tears filled his eyes. “They take them away. To hurt bad. To kill.” He coughed. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Jacqui. I would rather die.”

“I’ll be careful.” I didn’t want Air to think I was scared, so I didn’t stop. But I walked slower.

Air scanned the ground until he found a broken bottle. He held the bottle in his small fist as if planning to use it.

The carriages stopped and we all alighted. A crowd gathered, quiet but eager to see what we had brought them.

To my surprise, instead of Thrace Pike, Mr. Durak, the editor of the Bridges Daily, arrived with several camera-men.

Mr. Acol Durak was a man of middle years, brown of hair and skin, with some white at the temples, wearing a dark brown suit. Solid, all business, and did his job — to make sure the Spadros Family was never put in an unacceptable light — for which he was well paid.

Although his appearance at this event was puzzling, he was a pleasant enough man, and I was not unhappy to see him. “What brings you here?”

“Had no choice,” Mr. Durak said. “Pike told me about this, seemed ready to cover the story. Found his resignation letter on my desk this morning.”

“How very odd. Did the letter explain why?”

“I quote: he ‘couldn’t do his proper duty under the current circumstances.’ It seemed a most vague and unsatisfactory letter. He will be getting no recommendation from me, wherever he chooses to go.”

I smiled at him, but the whole situation felt unsettling. “Well, Mr. Durak, I’m glad you’re here.” I turned to my ladies. “Let’s get to work.”

The charity day went very well. While my maids packed the empty baskets, the ladies took photos with the poor children for the paper. I used the time to stroll through the crowds with the last of the sandwiches in my pocket.

I noticed a young man off to the side who fit the description of the Red Dogs member. I walked over, and he hid.

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“I’d like to give you a sandwich. No one will harm you.” A blond head peeked around the corner, and I gestured him over. “I won’t hurt you. What’s your name?”

“Stephen.”

Stephen had lost the baby fat around his face that David still had, and gained height. Yet he didn’t have the strong build and heavy beard of a man. I handed him the sandwich, and he immediately began chewing.

“How did you lose that finger?”

“Caught in machinery at the mill,” he said with his mouth full, and shrugged. “Don’t hurt no more.”

“Do you know someone who wants a half dollar?”

Stephen’s face brightened. “Me, miss.”

“Meet me at the train station at eleven tomorrow. I’ll be near the bag area, dressed all in black with a veil, and a purple handkerchief on my parasol. Understand?”

“Yes, miss. All in black, purple kerchief.”

I smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

Tony felt well enough to join me during luncheon, which encouraged me no end. Perhaps now I could get some work done.

I sat in my study after luncheon, drinking a few glasses of bourbon while planning our quarterly dinner party for Queen’s Day, a month hence. A party which fell on a holiday required early notice if we wanted our guests to attend.

Pearson knocked on the door; Master Joseph Kerr and Miss Josephine Kerr had come to call.

“Splendid,” I said, not feeling at all so. Joe’s name stirred up a mix of emotions I felt unready to handle. “Please inform Mr. Spadros and ask where he would like to greet them.”

“Yes, mum,” Pearson said.

I poured another glass of bourbon and drank it.

A few moments later Pearson returned, saying that the pair awaited us in the parlor. Tony stood in the hall behind Pearson, his face pale, and I went to him.

“Make no mention of my condition,” Tony whispered.

Surely we could trust the Kerrs? “But —”

“Not a word, or I’ll have Pearson send them away. Understand?”

I didn’t understand, but something in his face and tone said he would have no argument. So I nodded, and we went to the parlor together.

“Welcome,” Tony said. The twins stood to greet us, both wearing navy blue and white. They had removed their coats, and Joe his hat, but Josie still wore her bonnet.

Tony shook Joe’s hand, wincing so slightly perhaps only I noticed it, and kissed Josephine’s hand, while Joe glanced at Tony then kissed my hand in a perfunctory manner.

We all sat, Tony holding firmly to my arm. Joe appeared perfectly relaxed. Josie sat in a stiff manner, as if sensing something wrong and not understanding it.

“To what do we owe the honor of your visit?” Tony said.

“We wished to return the great favor you bestowed on us when you visited our home,” Josie said. “We have not had callers in some time.”

Tony smiled. “Friends of Mrs. Spadros are friends of mine. I hope we’ll see more of each other in the future.”

“Why, thank you,” Joe said.

A housemaid came in with tea, set the tray down, and carefully poured four cups of tea. We watched her in silence. She then began to hand the cups to us, beginning with Josie.

“I owe you a debt for your handling of the situation at the Grand Ball,” Tony said.

Joe accepted a cup from the maid. “It was nothing.” He took a sip of his tea. “Master Diamond is easily distracted. I merely told him there were ladies who wished to make his acquaintance.”

I laughed, sure Joe said no such thing.

First of all, Black Jack had never shown the slightest interest in women, either in my sight or from any rumor. From the way Jack reacted, it was clear Joe said some other thing entirely.

I felt bitter. “You are most skilled with words.”

Everyone stared at me, including the maid.

Tony said, “He certainly is.”

What was wrong with me? I acted like a love-addled girl. Joe came calling on a duty visit, nothing more. He had not spoken to me in six years, and then only when forced to; certainly his silence made his feelings plain.

“I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Spadros are quite busy.” Josephine rose, and so we all rose as well, Tony leaning heavily on my arm. “It has been good to see you.”

“I’m so sorry you can’t stay longer,” I said.

“Yes,” Tony said, “please come again.”

We helped them with their coats, saw them to the front door and to their carriage, and away they went. The smell of rain lay in the air.

Tony said. “What were you thinking? That was quite rude.”

I glanced away, feeling embarrassed at myself.

“How much have you had to drink?”

Not enough. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I was rude. I’ll write and tell them so.”

“No. If they were offended, it will only remind them of the offense. If they were not, it makes us look weak, and they will have a record of the offense to use against us. Say nothing. If they treat you coldly, apologize in person.”

I nodded, grateful that he had prevented me from making a mistake in this regard.

The day was overcast and cool, and the street, wet, as if it had rained recently, although I had not heard it. Even though it wasn’t yet tea-time, on this winter’s day, lamps were lit down the street.

It still seemed strange, this theater, even after seeing it for so many years. But for a “first return visit after a great personage visits you,” their part was done perfectly. “Linger no longer than fifteen minutes,” said the book. Although their visit was closer to ten minutes, even with their time waiting, than fifteen.

I hoped they weren’t offended.

As we turned to go inside, my eye fell on something farther down the stair.

“What is that?” I went down the steps, and stooped to pick it up. A card, stamped with a red dog. The sight made me uneasy.

Tony frowned. “What is what?”

I peered up and down the street, but saw no one. “Nothing. Some child’s litter.”

“We have servants for that.”

I closed my hand over the card and pretended to throw it away when we got inside. “I should finish planning the dinner party before tea time, if I hurry.”

“Make sure you invite the Kerrs,” Tony said.

“All three?”

“If we have room, yes, all three.”

It was clear he felt snappish. I didn’t blame him; I had embarrassed us both. “See you at tea then.”

He returned to his study, closing the door with a sharp click. I went into my study, shutting the door, and took out the card.

Like the others, it resembled a business card, stamped with the red dog symbol instead of print. The other side was blank.

The card felt barely damp. No raindrops lay upon it. The color on the stamp had not bled.

Someone left the card right before we came outside.

The Kerr coachmen would have frightened off slum boys who dared to come here, much less leave something on our front steps.

I studied the card. Why would someone put a Red Dog card on my doorstep? Who would dare to put anything on the doorstep of Spadros Manor?

Then fear gripped me. I recalled the man outside Madame Biltcliffe’s shop on New Year’s Eve, the one who I felt watched me. I also remembered the man I thought watched us outside Mr. Kerr’s home. Were they the same man?

But something disturbed me more. Did David’s kidnapper think I took the case? That I searched for him even now? Had someone followed me, the trail leading them here? I went to the window and peered around the drapery, but could see no one.

What could I do? If I told Tony I was being followed, I would find myself confined to the house, or followed by Tony’s men everywhere “to keep me safe.”

But if I told no one, and this man caught me …

I stared at the card, fear and anger colliding. Then I opened my desk drawer to lock it away … and saw the other one.

Tony never asked about the other one. His man had been here twice and never mentioned it. Was the kidnapper at the Ball?

I threw the card in and slammed the drawer shut.

I would go to the fires of hell before I threw away the morsel of freedom I'd gained because of some scoundrel.