But the Cavern did not suit Julian. After one quick look around he was off again without a word, his cloak pulled up around his neck and his saddlebag across his shoulder. The next tavern they entered, further along the snow-dusted alley and named The Boggy Bottom, likewise held not a long interest from Julian, but here Matthew stood his ground and demanded to at least get a plate of the spinach pie that was advertised on the chalkboard, as well as a cup of hot chicken broth since the last meal he’d eaten—and quickly at that—was a bowl of stewed tomatoes and a slice of cornbread from the coaching inn they’d paused at six hours ago. Julian relented and they sat down in the corner with Julian’s hand always on his pistol and his eyes ready for trouble from the surly-looking patrons. Matthew ordered his food and hoped for the best, Julian ordered a bowl of beef-and-rice soup that he said would likely be horsemeat, and they took a few moments of ease.

Then … off again.

The Black Grin Of Wisdom … one minute and out. “Who are we searching for?” Matthew asked as they left the odious place, which was the wisest thing to do.

“Someone important,” was the answer. “He’ll be out and about tonight, he always is.”

Cat And Mouse … no once more, and then off to the east several streets to another bounty of bedlam, starting with a decrepit-looking hole that bore a sign identifying it as The Octopus Garden, a title which Matthew thought would meet with great interest from Professor Fell himself.

Before Julian pushed through the door he said, “I have hopes for this one.”

“I have hopes to get next to a fireplace,” Matthew muttered through lips as cold and stiff as metal.

They went in.

The trip from Bristol had taken thirty-eight hours, with several stops at various coaching inns along the route but only long enough for the necessities. Benson had crawled into the coach to get a few hours’ sleep while Hedges drove the team, and then they switched up. Lord and Lady Turlentort would have been driven mad by the frenzied pace if Julian hadn’t put on a performance that Matthew thought was masterful. In the pitching and swaying coach, Julian Devane took the Turlentorts away from their misery by the tales he spun, and whether they were true or not—and Matthew doubted any of them were true—the Turlentorts ate them up like sugar candies.

Julian was part of Queen Anne’s bodyguard and saved her life from a foreign assassin bent on poisoning her afternoon tea. Julian had once been an assistant to a lion tamer at the Riggen Brothers’ Circus—which Matthew doubted existed—and served in that position until, alas, Silkie the lion decided he was not getting enough meat and therefore the tamer’s arm must suffice. Julian had sailed to South America in search of a shipwreck carrying a fabled emerald called the Green Goddess, and though he had not found the gemstone he was made an honorary member of the Tupinamba tribe for saving a young boy from drowning. Julian had once fought three duels in one day—before breakfast, after lunch and after dinner—and three men lay in the cemetery at Salisbury to prove it.