When he finished, Alexsander joined the painter and his friends. They spoke openly and freely and of things of little consequence. How I envied that in him. He also drank too much, for which he was unrepentant. As his new friends left he took some air; the square was quiet as the sun began its descent. On the far side a man was packing away an accordion, stopping briefly to glare at Alexsander. He supposed he’d stolen the man’s audience and made to apologise, but the man hurried away. Alexsander was more troubled by this than he’d like to admit. But I saw.

I was woken by someone pounding on the door of my room. I stumbled out of bed, head swimming with ale and my breath stinking of the same horrid swill. I unlocked the door and was startled to find Mrs Lehner, candle in one hand, still in her nightdress. I looked quickly away.

‘Inspector!’

‘Mrs Lehner, whatever is the matter?’

‘There’s been— It’s, I mean, it’s terrible!’

‘Calm yourself. What is terrible?’

‘They say he’s dead. They say, they’re saying such terrible things.’ She had no colour to her and was close to fainting, right there, on the threshold of my room.

‘Dead? Who, Mrs Lehner? We need to inform the constable.’

‘That’s it, Inspector, that’s the thing of it. It is the constable.’

Saying it aloud was evidently too much for the woman. I saw her knees go from under her and she started to sink, like a scuppered ship. I managed to catch the candle before the whole inn went up in flames, but for Mrs Lehner herself all I could do was slow her fall. I made sure she was in no immediate danger before dashing back into my room to fetch some water, with which I roused the confused and embarrassed woman. With my aid she walked back to her room and I assured her she was safe.

‘They’re waiting, Inspector,’ she said, eyes as large and white as the moon ever was.

‘I’m sure the thirsty of Drekenford can wait a little longer tonight.’

‘No, there’s men waiting downstairs. For you.’

I dressed quickly, then found these men at the bar, one gripping the top with both hands. He looked pale, and I wondered if he was as unsteady as Mrs Lehner. Three of them, in all, in cloaks and hats and their mouths set in singular seriousness.

‘Inspector,’ one of them said, offering me his hand. I recognised him from my first night at the inn: Victor and Julia’s father, Mayor Eder. He had a firm, confident grip, and a smoothly shaven face. His dark, intelligent eyes sized me up instantly. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you at such an hour, for such a thing as this…’ Eder shook his head, somewhat lost for words; a state he appeared unused to.

‘Lead the way, Mayor.’

‘Yes, yes,’ he said, waving for the other men to hurry out of the inn.