“Well,” Victor said with another slight shrug, “I might have been able to.” His smile seemed now to Matthew to be more of the fixed grimace of a barely-contained animal, and the pale blue eyes burned with a frightening and powerful intensity. This, he thought, was a very dangerous man. A silence stretched, until Victor lifted his black-gloved hands in what might have been a suggestion of peace between nations edging toward the brink of war. “But in any case,” he said, still speaking with that accent Matthew could not define, “a job well done.”

“My compliments for recognizing superior talent,” said Julian, who Matthew thought must have decided that he could not only out-act any of Shakespeare’s players but could also out-compose the plays themselves. He felt the pressing need for a chamberpot.

Victor continued to smile. Then he reached into his greatcoat and his hand emerged with a pistol. Matthew tensed, Julian shifted his position just a fraction, and Victor proceeded to inspect the pistol’s barrel, cocking device and trigger as if he’d just bought the weapon. “Victor is not really my name, no,” he said. “I feel it is appropriate in the situation, because I intend to be the victor of this particular event.”

“Hm,” said Julian, fast becoming the master of noncommittal utterances.

“We are all brothers, in a way. Do you agree?” Victor didn’t wait for a response because it was obvious he didn’t care if Count Pellegar agreed or not. “Here we are, though, on a field of battle of another sort. This does not involve our usual talents. This involves the power of the purse, and I can tell you that the power behind my purse is quite substantial.”

“I see,” said Julian. He smiled, which was grotesque on the painted face. “I am relieved to know this does not concern the size of one’s gun.” So saying, he pulled his own deadly weapon from its belthook and went about inspecting it as Victor had done his own. Matthew saw Victor’s eyes narrow just a fraction, and with a satisfied and quiet grunt the man put his pistol away.

The rest of the trip was done in what Matthew felt was a tense silence. When the carriage stopped, Victor was the first one out. There stood the grand house beyond the gate with the guard at his post, the manse itself illuminated with lanterns in its windows as if for a party. Victor stood next to the carriage as Julian and Matthew disembarked, and at once Matthew realized there was no way to inform the driver to wait for two hours just past the last estate. The driver climbed down to be paid. Victor said, “Allow me,” and handed over the coins with an extra amount as incentive for his next statement. “We shall need a return to the Mayfair Arms. I expect the business should be done by midnight.”