“Agreed, but how to find out?”

“We wait again. If Britt’s information interests the Owl—and I think it will—our man of the twisted neck will be on the move himself very soon, and this time he might be reporting to someone we really do care to meet.”

“The admiral?” said Matthew.

“We’ll see. I’m going to cross the street and find a place to watch those steps. I want you across the street there,” and Julian motioned toward the west, “so neither Britt nor the Owl run into you if they come up and turn this corner. Then settle back and try to warm yourself. We might be out here a while.”

Matthew took up the position Julian had indicated, blending as well as possible into the darkness. Julian strode off to the north and became invisible. Then Matthew concentrated on watching the corner across the way and at the same time trying to envision himself standing before a bonfire that warmed every square inch of his body. He rubbed his hands together and was grateful for his gloves and the woolen cap under his tricorn that was keeping his ears from falling off. If the cap had any lice, by now they were only ice.

He had reached the point of dreaming not about standing before a bonfire but sitting in a hot bathtub with the fire in front of him and a warm cup of apple ale in his hand when Julian rushed around the corner and said, “Hurry! We can’t lose him!”

“Who are we following? Britt or the Owl?” Matthew asked as they started off in a westerly direction.

“The Owl. He’s wearing all white, a white greatcoat with a white hood up over his head. You can just barely see him up front half a block. He’s walking fast. I don’t trust getting much closer than this, with that swiveling head of his, but we’ve got to keep him in sight.”

Matthew could indeed barely make out the white-clad figure against the snowfall, and even as he caught view of the freakish man the whirling flurries swept in and hid the Owl behind their veils. Julian picked up the speed of his stride and Matthew matched it; Matthew knew full well that if they let this man get away they might lose whatever chance they had to find this mysterious admiral, if that’s who the Owl was going to hoot to.

For block after block they continued, crossing street after street. At times Matthew feared they had lost the Owl because against all that white the white-hooded figure could not be seen, but then the flurries parted and there was just the glimpse of the man striding through the illumination from a tavern’s window before he was again obscured. Matthew wondered if at some time during this pursuit the Owl might choose to swivel his head almost all the way around to check who might be following, but at least the hood would prevent such a sighting of his two trackers.