“You looked like you needed a hug,” Molly said briskly. “Hell, practically everyone here does. But I’m not that sort of girl. These days. I’ve been talking to Sue; she says she can summon up an entrance point to the Damnation Way any time you’re ready, but . . . she’s exhausted, Eddie. I mean, really out on her feet. It’s only guts and determination that’s holding her up. I don’t know where she went, or who she had to deal with, to obtain the secrets of the Damnation Way, but she paid a high price.”

“Then we need to get this moving as soon as possible,” I said. “Molly, I need Subway Sue to go with us. Is she up to that?”

“She says she is.” Molly scowled and shrugged. “I can’t tell her no. And you wouldn’t, would you, Eddie?”

“We need her,” I said steadily. “The world needs her.”

“Funny,” said Molly. “It never needed her before.” She looked at me thoughtfully. “And what about me? Do you need me with you, on this? Can you trust me so close to a tower, given my . . . condition?”

I smiled at her. “I’ll always need you, Molly. Do you really think I’d go anywhere without you?”

“You always were a big softy, Eddie Drood.” And she kissed me hard, right there in front of everyone. Some clapped, a few cheered. Molly finally let go of me and smiled sweetly around her.

Luckily Mr. Stab arrived at that point, strolling casually into the War Room like an unexploded bomb, with the Sarjeant-at-Arms marching right beside him. The Sarjeant had a gun in one hand and his gaze fixed firmly on Mr. Stab, who politely pretended not to notice. After his many exertions in the field, the Sarjeant looked battered and bruised, and somewhat bulkily bandaged here and there, but his back was still straight and his head erect. For him, weakness would always be something that happened to other people. And to be fair, he still looked like he could take on a whole army single-handed and send the survivors running home crying to their mothers. Mr. Stab, it should be said, looked . . . exactly as he always had. Calm, cold, and completely unruffled. Not a spot of blood on him, or the slightest tear in his Victorian evening wear. Even his top hat gleamed with a smug and civilised air.

I felt like throwing something at it, on general principles.

Instead, I beckoned them both over and explained the situation to them. Mr. Stab frowned slightly at mention of the Damnation Way, as though the name rang a bell with him, but he had nothing to say. The Sarjeant-at-Arms all but crashed to attention before me, his eyes brightening at the prospect of further mayhem.

“Anything, for the family!” he said. “And I have to say, the family’s been so much more fun since you got back, boy.”