As Jon was leaving, Pearson approached us. “A delivery, sir.” Past him outside the open doorway, one of Tony’s men held Rocket’s leash as they walked down the front path.

“Write if you need anything,” Jon said, then followed them to his white and silver carriage at the curb.

In the entryway, four burly young men struggled to carry two black and white urns of polished marble, which held houseplants with large dark glossy leaves. The urns and plants were similar to those in the hallway at the chapel where we were married.

A middle-aged, balding man in rumpled overalls stood nearby with a clipboard. “Where do ya want them?”

“In the parlor beside the sofa,” I said, pointing the way.

I said to Pearson, “Who are they from?”

Pearson handed me an envelope holding an embossed card:

To Anthony and Jacqueline

On your anniversary

Roy and Molly Spadros

Today’s our anniversary, I thought. Four years. I’d completely forgotten. “How kind of them!” Roy and Molly had never sent an anniversary gift before. Why now? “They must be from your mother: your father would never pick these colors.”

Tony chuckled at that. “I’ll write thanking her at once.”

Tony and I were puzzled when one of Molly’s men galloped up: she never sent anything. We felt perplexed when the urns were emptied and found to contain garden dirt and houseplants.

Who sent these, and why?

* * *

Since the Kerrs had some time ago invited us to join them at the racetrack, for our anniversary Tony accepted their offer. We left the gray cobblestones of Spadros, drove through the island of Market Center, and over to Hart quadrant, which had streets of closely-laid deep red brick. It might’ve been faster to travel through Diamond, or even Clubb, but it was safer to travel this way. In any case, we had several armed outriders with us.

The racetrack was far out into the Hart countryside. At the time, I thought: This must have been part of the trip Joe took which ended in his terrible fall.

Tony said, “Any news from Master Kerr?”

I laughed. “Are you reading my mind now? No. I hope that means he’s well. Do you think his cast is off yet?”

“So he never wrote you this entire time?” Tony seemed at a loss. “I thought the two of you were fast friends.”

Indeed, I loved no one more. But my letters went unanswered. “He’s never been a letter-writer.”

I wasn’t sure he even knew how to write; I hadn’t learned until I was twelve, and he was taken from the Pot much later. “I’ll inquire when we next meet.”

Tony smiled. “I’m sure you and Josie will have much to chatter about as well.”

Josie had sent a printed condolence card for Anastasia, which was quite kind under the circumstances.

They’re grieving Marja’s loss. It would be cruel to expect them to write, when the only mother they knew had been murdered.

* * *

The buildings at the racetrack were red brick trimmed in white, a black wrought iron fence round the whole complex. It reminded me of the fence surrounding the Pot since the Coup.

When we arrived, men dressed in the red and silver livery of the Hart Family unhitched our horses. Our guards flanked us as we followed a man in Hart livery up the red brick steps carpeted in brilliant red to a set of glass-paneled white doors, similar to the doors leading out to the veranda at Spadros Manor.

Silver and crystal chandeliers hung from the white vaulted ceiling several stories above us. Dozens of men, women, and children traversed the cherry-paneled hall while a man’s voice spoke rapidly overhead. Many stared at Tony as we passed.

I giggled, taking Tony’s arm. “You’re quite the attraction.”

Tony rarely smiled in public; he was a master at not revealing how he felt. “This building is astonishing. I find it difficult not to goggle like a tourist at the sight.”

I patted his arm. “You’re doing quite well.”

A short, broad flight of white steps rose to a landing with many sets of glass-paneled white doors. These stood open, dozens going through. Our guide led us to an immense stadium.

Horses ran in the distance. Tens of thousands of cherry-stained wooden seats teemed with parasols and top hats, Derby hats, and caps. Children frolicked on the wooden steps, while the man’s voice — now broadcast over the crowd — continued its rapid pace. The crowd cheered. “This is spectacular.”

“This way, mum,” our guide said. Everyone stood waiting.

I turned to Tony. “I suppose now I’m the tourist.”

Tony’s eyes flashed amusement before his mask reappeared.

We followed to the left, then up a long flight of white steps. Finally we came to glass-paneled white doors.

To our left, picture windows showed the entire raceway. A buffet lay along the far wall. To our right, windows displayed the countryside. The announcer’s voice continued its rapid assessment overhead, delicious smells filling the air. The room — thrice the size of our dining hall — was full of people. The tables and chairs were of cherry-wood, with seats cushioned in silver and red brocade.

Charles Hart, portly and red-haired, moved toward us as we entered. He shook hands with Tony, kissed mine. “How good of you to come!” He gestured to the room. “My home is yours.”

I glanced back. “Where’s Honor?”

Tony chuckled. “Forgive my wife, sir; she has far too much regard for her servants.” He leaned toward me. “Our men are well, my love.”

A trio of musicians began setting up next to the buffet.

Mr. Hart bent closer, his voice conspiratorial. “The servants’ accommodations are the best in Bridges. They can drink a pint and bet on the games, shout when they win and curse when they lose — without having to worry about our tidy disapproval.”

I laughed. We were a rather prim lot. “I like you, Mr. Hart.”

At this, he seemed touched. “And I like you too, my dear.”

“Look,” Tony said, “your friends.” He pointed to our right.

Joe and Josie sat at a corner table across the room with several others. With her back to the large picture window, Josie made a lovely portrait with her golden curls and clear blue eyes. She nudged Joe, and he looked to her, as if taken off guard.

Joe grasped crutches standing against the wall, gazed at me with those beautiful green eyes, and smiled.

Joseph Kerr’s smile held the life and gladness of a summer day, the joy and ease usually only found in the smallest of children. It was innocent and earnest, lighting up the room.

Our eyes met, and I felt that electric shock to my soul.

Gods, how I loved him.

“Mr. Spadros,” Charles Hart said. The unease in his voice startled me away from Joe’s magnetic gaze. “Perhaps we might sit here? I have a table prepared.”

Tony said, “We should go to them, rather than force them to come to us.” He took my arm. “Excuse us, sir.”

“Not at all.” Mr. Hart’s face was grim. “Enjoy your friends.”

We crossed the room past tables full of people smoking, chatting, eating, and drinking. Most had reddish hair, but some had the straight heavy black hair of Mr. Hart’s ancestors.

“Tony, should we have spurned Mr. Hart’s invitation?”

“Nonsense,” Tony said. “You deserve to be among friends today. Besides, I wish to dine with them.”

Surely the reason we visited was to strengthen ties with the Harts? Why else provoke Roy by coming here?

Josie and Joe stood waiting for us.

My heart was pounding, my mouth dry. I longed to caress Joe’s soft brown hair, to press his golden body against mine.

Tony shook Joe’s hand. “Good to see you up, sir.”

Joe reached out, his eyes on mine, and kissed my hand as Tony kissed Josie’s. “A pleasure to see you, Mrs. Spadros.”

“And I you.” I couldn’t linger on his hand, as much as I wished to. I took Josie’s hands. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Josie smiled. “I’m glad to see you as well.” She gestured to the empty table. “Would you care to join us?”

I gasped. “Your friends didn’t need to leave on our account!”

Waiters took Joe and Josie’s plates, swept crumbs, wiped down and set the table. The room buzzed with conversation.

Josie shrugged. “The table has changed twice in as many hours. They wanted to bet a new round.”

Indeed, the announcer called for those placing bets to come forward. But why throw money away on a chance to win more?

“Well, then,” Tony said, “let’s eat!” He held out a chair for me across from Joe, then took a seat next to Josie.

A waiter approached. “What shall I bring you, Mr. Spadros?”

“A selection from the buffet. And wine for the table, please.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir,” Josie said.

Tony laughed. “It’s easy to be gracious in someone else’s home. Thank Mr. Hart.”

Josie seemed amused.

Joe sat regarding me.

I recalled how I touched Tony, and heat rushed to my cheeks at the thought of touching Joe that way. “I hope you’re well?”

“Quite well, thank you,” Joe said, “all things considered.”

They both wore black. Much of the room wore black still, others dark colors such as navy, deep purple, charcoal. Yet most of the room laughed and were merry, betting and drinking.

Tony said, “Did you lose someone in the explosion?”

Josie glanced away, handkerchief held to her face.

Tony said, “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to cause grief.”

Joe appeared unperturbed. “No one of any importance to us was aboard. A woman who was as a mother to us was murdered the night before the disaster. So we mourn her as we would our mother, if we would have known her.”

Tony seemed confused.

Josie said, “Our mother died bearing us.”

Tony stared at Joe. “Who would murder a woman? My sincerest apologies, sir. Have the police caught the scoundrel?”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

An instant of anger went through them both.

“Marja was from the Pot, sir,” Josie said, glancing away. “There was little interest in the case.”

If the swarm of police outside Vig’s bar after Marja’s death wasn’t there for Marja, why were they there?

Tony said, “Couldn’t Mr. Hart persuade them to investigate?”

Bribe them is what he meant.

Joe said, “She was murdered in Spadros quadrant.”

Tony sat back, mouth open. Waiters set large serving platters full of various foods in front of us, along with bottles of wine. But by custom, none of us could eat until Tony did. “How can I help?”

Josie shrugged. The announcer chattered overhead.

Tony glanced around. “I seem to have lost my manners.” He spooned food onto his plate and took a bite. “Please, join me.”

The look which crossed Josie’s eyes was cynical, disdainful, and amused at the same time. And I recalled what she said in February: I’m not above begging for anything that will help my family prosper. Even from him. I wondered if she still harbored anger towards Tony for killing Ottilie, Treysa, and Poignee.

We sat eating to the sound of the announcer, the crowd, and rousing jazz music. After some time, Mr. Hart came to the table. “Mr. Spadros! Would you and your wife like to watch the races?”

“Certainly,” Tony said. He turned to me. “Excuse me, my dear, I’ll leave you to chat with your friends.”

Mr. Hart’s face went cold.

I smiled up at Tony. “Thank you. I’ll be along shortly.”

Josie rose. “I’d like some air.”

Joe moved to get up, but she waved him off. “I’ll just be on the landing.” She smiled. “You two have much to discuss.”

Josie strolled across the room and opened the door to the landing, the breeze tossing her blonde curls. Tony and Mr. Hart stood at the railing before the picture windows.

I gazed across the table at Joe.

His eyes never left mine. “You look lovely.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’ve missed you. My days are filled with dull exercise.”

“Why did you never write me?”

His gaze never faltered. “With the expense of doctors and attendants after my injury, then Marja’s funeral, we couldn’t afford to send mail. Choosing between pen, paper, ink, messenger fees to your Country House, and food —” he shrugged. “We’re grateful Mr. Hart brought us here today.”

I recalled Mr. Hart’s demeanor just now. “What’s happened, Joe? Does your grandfather no longer have an allowance?”

“It’s complex.” He shifted in his chair. “My grandfather’s a proud man. Mr. Hart helps him, but his aid comes at a price.”

Ah. I remembered Roy’s methods of ensuring loyalty. “I see.” Doubtless Mr. Kerr hid his financial difficulties so as not to be further entrapped in Family matters.

Joe patted the table to his right. “Sit by me.”

I moved to Tony’s seat so as not to appear too intimate. Tony glanced at us, then resumed talking. Mr. Hart stared at us, the stiffness of his posture displaying his unease.

Many in the room sneaked glances at us. The memory of Joe’s kiss in the Kerr’s parlor two months ago lingered; I gripped my empty glass so as not to reach for his hand.

A waiter came up. “More wine, mum?”

“Ah,” Joe said. “You must try their new drink.” He turned to the waiter. “Chocolate martinis for us both.”

“Yes, sir,” the waiter said, disappearing into the crowd.

“Do you remember our last meeting?” Joe said.

His touch, his kiss .... “How could I forget?”

“You seemed intoxicated. I don’t want to offend.”

“Joe, never doubt my feelings for you. Ever.” I took a deep breath, gazed into his eyes. “I've never truly loved anyone else.”

The night I gave myself to Tony flashed before me then, and I gripped the stem of my glass, guilt at my betrayal gnawing at me. I faced the room. “I have decided to learn who killed Marja.”

He let out a breath. “Damn this leg! I should be out finding her murderer.” He spoke earnestly. “You must not do this.”

I snorted, amused. “You sound like my husband. He’s forbidden me to continue my business.”

“You told him?” He paused a moment. “Did he hurt you?”

I smiled to myself. “He told me I was brave. But I’m forbidden to go anywhere without escort.”

Joe hesitated. “It would be safer.”

Should I tell him? “Marja sent me a letter before she died, asking to meet. The night I did, I found her shot in the street.”

Joe gazed at me, perfectly composed.

Perhaps he’d come to terms with her death. Perhaps it didn’t seem real. But the memory of her death had haunted me ever since. “She didn’t die alone. I held her hand as she left us.” My vision blurred. “Her last thought was for Josie.” I wiped my eyes. “I promised her I’d keep Josie safe ... and it occurred to me that if someone’s targeting people I love, you’re both in danger as well.”

He leaned forward. “Did she say anything else?”

I shook my head. “I got there too late for that, it seems.”

He rested his hand on my arm; his touch warmed me. “We’re safe, Jacqui.” He withdrew his hand as the waiter approached with our drinks. “My friends’ll guard us until I’m well.”

I sipped my drink. It was delicious.

Joe said, “But how can I help? The police won’t do anything, and we have nothing to give them.”

“I believe my husband wants to help. See if Marja wrote to anyone else, or kept any private notes.”

Joe nodded. “I’ll ask Josie.”

I grinned. And how would he send the information? They had no money. “Expect a package soon.”

Joe appeared intrigued. “I can’t wait.”

Josie pushed open the door, and I could tell she was annoyed. She went to Tony and spoke to him; he left the way she came in.

Josie stood facing the window, arms crossed, then went to a group of younger men and women, who rose to greet her.

Tony returned to our table. “I hope the two of you are well?”

I smiled up at him. “Quite.”

Joe said, “I saw my sister speak with you.”

“It’s nothing,” Tony said. “One of our horses stumbled and fell when they brought it to the stable; the doctor’s seeing to it. They told the driver it was just a scratch, but it’s best to be safe.”

I said, “Poor thing.”

Tony said to Joe, “The Dealer has blessed you with a steadfast friend. She only thinks of helping others.”

“Sir,” Joe said, “let me have the horse you lent us brought to you. I can call for it now. Then you can leave when you like.”

Tony seemed touched. “That’s very kind, Master Kerr.”

Joe said, “I’ll see to it at once.” He waved to Josie, who spoke to her friends then turned towards us.

Tony said to me, “Would you like to see the racing?”

“Yes,” Joe said, “you must. I insist.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I’m quite comfortable here.” I looked at the large windows beside me. “The view is magnificent.”

“Very well,” Tony said. “Enjoy the view.” He returned to Mr. Hart, who slapped his shoulder and pointed to the racetrack.

Josie had been standing aside. “Yes, Joe?”

“Send for the horse Mr. Spadros lent us.”

She seemed unsurprised. “Of course.” She went back to her group and spoke in a young man’s ear, who jostled two more. The three men walked towards the door and were gone.

I said, “Will you be able to manage with one horse?” Josie seemed so grateful to borrow our horse in the first place.

Joe said, “It’s not such a grand offer, Jacqui. We sold our carriage and got one a single horse can pull. I might not be able to ride for some time. So we’ll manage.” He gazed at me with those beautiful eyes. “To be honest, we can’t afford to feed it anymore.”

This financial downturn seemed disheartening. He must feel humiliated. “I’m sorry.”

“Marja. Do you have any idea who might have killed her?”

I shook my head. I didn’t really know anything. “It was too convenient, Marja being killed right as I came to meet her.” If whoever conspired to kill my Ma discovered that Marja overheard them, they would have killed Marja sometime during the several days between when Marja’s letter arrived and I left to meet her. Which reinforced the notion they killed her simply to torment me.

Who knew I was going out? As far as I knew, only Sawbuck, Morton, and Blitz — unless someone else saw me leave and notified the killer. “I fear a spy in my husband’s guards.”

“The very men who protect you?”

“They’re all Roy’s men, Joe. Not one is there to protect me; it’s all for my husband’s benefit.”

Joe became quite earnest. “Well, then you must find a way to change that.” He glanced around. “Why do they need you?”

I shrugged. “As far as I can tell, for an heir. But any woman would suffice, except for the love my husband bears for me.”

Joe’s face darkened. “I can’t bear the thought of him touching you. I wish I were well. I’d take you where he’d never find you.”

I thought of Madame Biltcliffe and her loveless marriage. “I wish you were well, too. But you’re not, so we must wait.”

Tony kept glancing back at me.

“I’m sorry, Joe — I must leave you for now. I don’t think Mr. Hart is pleased that we refused his invitation to dine.”

Joe nodded. “I understand.”

“Is something wrong? A falling-out between you?”

Joe gazed aside, shoulders drooping. “It was long ago.” He waved me on. “You have your duties. Don’t worry about me. Please, enjoy your day.” Then he held my hand tightly, kissed it. “I’m grateful for this time with you, however brief.”

I felt touched. “As am I. Farewell, my love.”

* * *

“Ah, there you are, my dear,” Mr. Hart said as I approached. “A race is just beginning.”

I put my arm through Tony’s, standing between the two men. A gun sounded far below. The horses ran, the men on their backs whipping them around and around, getting nowhere.

Perhaps they were more like me than I imagined.

At last, one ran faster, and everyone cheered. Or groaned, if they had bet on another, I suppose.

“So what do you think?” Mr. Hart said eagerly.

I shrugged. “Must they whip the horses?”

Tony laughed. “I told you she had her own mind. Even after so long in her company, still she surprises me.”

Mr. Hart gazed at me as if trying to memorize my visage, yet his tone was light, soothing. “It’s all in fun, my dear. The horses aren’t harmed.” He gave a short laugh. “They’re valuable animals, which I hope to keep in good health for many years.”

He continued to look at me, and I began to feel uncomfortable at the intensity of his gaze. The hair on my arms stood on end. I moved to Tony’s other arm. “Well, that’s a relief.”

The day was lovely: a blue sky with white clouds floating high above the faint shimmer of the dome. Tony and Mr. Hart chatted, but Mr. Hart watched me more than the horses.

Why did he keep staring at me?

Mr. Hart turned to Tony. “Might I speak with your wife, sir?”

I said, “My husband can hear anything you have to say —”

“Certainly,” Tony said, as if I had not spoken. “Excuse me.” He left, disappearing into the Men’s Room.

Mr. Hart leaned against the brass railing in front of the large windows. His eyes never left mine. “How do you like my home?”

I glanced away, heart pounding. “You live here?”

He grinned. “The Harts have lived at the racetrack since my grandfather and his brother captured it during the Coup. Next time you’re here, I’ll take you on a tour of our private quarters.”

His tone made it seem much too intimate. “My husband and I would be pleased to visit.”

“I’m glad.” His eyes met mine. “You’re enjoying your day?”

He continued gazing at me. What were his intentions? I glanced away. “Indeed, sir. I thank you for your hospitality.”

He took a step towards me, and instinctively I drew back. I considered his wife Judith’s past reactions to my presence. Did she believe him to have an unseemly attraction? He was old enough to be my grandfather!

For an instant, he seemed unsure of how to proceed. “You should beware of associating with Master Kerr. His reputation —”

This was outrageous. I stood my ground, faced him. “Sir, if I may. While I thank you for your counsel, you are neither my husband nor my father —”

Mr. Hart flinched, setting his jaw.

“— and I will not shun a man I’ve known since birth on account of rumor. I’m astonished you would slander a guest so.”

Mr. Hart stood stock still, mouth open.

“Why is he here then, if you believe him to be unsuitable?”

Mr. Hart flushed red. “That’s none of your concern.”

Tony approached us. “Is all well?”

I clung to Tony’s arm with both hands, grateful he’d appeared. “Perhaps it’s time we left.”

Tony shook his head. “The horses aren’t ready. Please, I wish the two of you to be friends.”

“Then our host must either explain himself or apologize.”

Mr. Hart glanced away. “Well, Mrs. Spadros, I don’t need to explain myself to you.” He held out his hand. “But I apologize for giving offense. It would please me to be friends.”

I daresay it would please you to be much more than that.

But I let him take my hand, which he held a bit longer than necessary. Then one of his men called him away.

“Jacqui,” Tony said in a whisper, “what did he say?”

“He wants us to shun Joe.” I felt so angry I could barely speak. “He brings the man to his table, yet tells his other guests to shun him. What kind of man does that?”

Tony hesitated, then said, “This hasn’t been the outing I hoped. I’m sorry.”

I squeezed his arm. “It’s not your fault. Really. I’m glad we came. It’s been a lovely day.”

“Perhaps we should sit apart from the Kerrs, so as not to give offense.” Tony led me to a table for two by the wall, and there we waited, sipping wine until our horses were ready to leave.

Josie refused to accompany us to the carriage. “Joe’s friends will carry him down,” she said, “but they’re rather flighty. I dare not leave him with them, or he may find himself alone.”

Would these men protect him from Frank Pagliacci and Jack Diamond? I gripped her hand. “Watch over him, Josie. I beg you.”

“I will.” She patted my hand. “Enjoy your trip home.”

* * *

We drove through Hart quadrant, over the bridge to Market Center, over the bridge to Spadros, and past the Pot. The shadows had begun to lengthen.

Tony said, “Why didn’t you tell me about Helen Hart?”

Had he found out I lied? “What about her?”

“About her illness? I should have guessed you weren’t with her when you told me you went with Master Rainbow on his yacht. But —” he shook his head, “I fear I caused Mr. Hart grief.”

“I’m sorry, Tony. Josie told me about the baby, and —”

“What baby?”

I stared at him. Did I reveal a confidence? “Josie told me their baby died: it was born too soon.”

“Oh.” Tony sounded dismayed.

“She made me promise not to tell. No one was to know for fear the papers would learn of it.”

Tony’s face fell. “Mr. Hart made it sound a terrible illness.” His eyes narrowed. “Did he lie to me?”

I let out a breath. “Tony, he may not trust you. I don’t understand this split between Mr. Hart and the Kerrs. And ... Mr. Hart kept staring at me. Frankly, I felt uncomfortable.”

Tony sounded hesitant. “Jacqui — I don’t think he meant anything by it.”

Did Tony mean to say I imagined it? Where was his obsession with my reputation now? “Whether he meant anything or not, it was quite rude for him to stare at me so. I have enough people calling me a —”

The carriage turned off the main road. Tony grabbed the speaker tube. “What’s wrong?”

The driver said, “Road’s blocked, a turnip-cart spilled.”

Tony peered out of the window. “What a mess.” We started off again, full speed. He turned to me. “Jacqui, you know how much I care about your —”

A shot rang out. The carriage jolted and lurched to the right, as if running over something large with our left wheels, and a horse screamed. Then the carriage jerked backwards. I fell to the left as sand sprayed across my face. Tony fell atop me.

What just happened?

Tony stood. “Are you hurt?”

Shouts and whinnies filled the air; next to my head, a horse screamed in terror and pain. The carriage shuddered.

“No.” I glanced at the sky through the window just above Tony’s head. “Someone shot at us.”

“Yes.” Tony helped me to my feet. In the half-darkness, I couldn’t tell what he was feeling.

My gun was at home. “What shall we do?”

Tony climbed to the front of the carriage and opened the front window, crouching to peer outside. “I don’t see the driver. The horses are tangled.” He opened the back window. “Oh, gods.”

I retreated from the horse’s screams; Tony held me.

One of Tony’s men appeared above us. “Are you well, sir?”

“Yes,” Tony said. “Someone fired upon us.”

“Yes, sir.” The man moved towards the front of the carriage, returning a moment later. “Driver’s dead, sir. Shot in the head.”

I didn’t even know the man’s name.

Tony said, “Are the wheels damaged?”

“Let me check, sir.” He came back. “I don’t think so. We’ve sent for another horse.” He grimaced. “Sorry for the noise, sir; we can’t tend to the horse until we get the carriage off it.”

Honor’s face replaced the man’s. “Lean on the seat, mum.”

I did so, placing my feet on the carriage wall below me.

Shouts, grunts, and groans as the carriage was righted with a mighty heave. I stood, opened the door, and sprang outside. A large crowd of sweating men surrounded the carriage.

“Thank you for your help,” I called out. “Find the scoundrel who did this.”

Shouts and cheers as men scattered to the buildings.

Tony stood near the front of our carriage. His men assisted the horses, who had many cuts and scrapes on their sides.

The horse lying at the rear of the carriage cried out, eyes wide, its flanks mangled by the carriage-wheels. A bloody mark lay on the cobblestones where it had been dragged by the reins.

Honor shot the poor beast in the head and it lay still.

“That was the horse we lent the Kerrs,” Tony said. “It would’ve been better if it had stayed with them.”

A card lay on the ground. It was the size of a business card, but blank. On the other side lay the silhouette of a dog, stamped in red: the mark of the Red Dog Gang.