“Harry . . . was always very much his mother’s son,” said the Armourer. “She raised him outside the Hall. Away from the Matriarch. James visited him as much as he could, but . . . I don’t know, Eddie. James and I were close, but there were some things he just wouldn’t talk about. There was something going on . . . with Melanie, or Harry, but . . . Anyway, after Melanie disappeared, James insisted we find work for Harry as a field agent, and the Matriarch kept him busy with missions in foreign climes. And just like you, Eddie, Harry lived for his work and never came home.”

“I was never allowed out of the country,” I said wistfully.

“But Harry was James’s son,” said the Armourer. “And James was always Mother’s favourite. Still, Harry proved to be an excellent field agent; very resourceful, always got the job done.”

“But what kind of a man is he?” said Molly.

“I have no idea,” said the Armourer. “Harry was always . . . distant.”

“Is he James’s only son?” said Molly.

“Hell no,” said the Armourer, chuckling. “Harry was James’s only legitimate son, but he has any number of stepbrothers and stepsisters, scattered across every country in the world, from all the women James had . . . relationships with, down the years.”

“He never could keep it in his trousers,” I said. “Got him into trouble more often than I care to think about.”

“James was just very romantic,” the Armourer said firmly. “Always falling in love with a pretty face, and usually living to regret it. The family has never officially recognised any of these . . . offspring, but to keep James happy we usually made arrangements to keep them gainfully employed, doing useful work for the family. On occasions when we needed more than usual distance, or deniability.”

“I thought your family didn’t approve of half-breeds?” said Molly.

“We don’t,” I said. “They’re never invited home, and we never send them Christmas cards. The Droods are a very old-fashioned family in some ways, but that’s what happens when you’ve been around for centuries.”

“But it’s still okay to make use of them, for dangerous jobs?” said Molly.

“The family can be very pragmatic, when it wants,” said the Armourer. “That’s how we’ve survived for centuries.”

We finally got to the lake. The dark blue-green waters stretched away before us, serene and undisturbed, the far shore so distant we couldn’t even see it from where we were. There’s an undine in it somewhere, but she keeps herself to herself. The first thing I noticed was that all the swans were gone, presumably fled to the other end of the lake. And when I saw the two men standing on the lakeshore before us, I understood why.