Something inside Catherine drew tight at his tone. There was an underlying sharpness to it, clear as a shard of glass. He was without his coat and hat, and she realized belatedly they were already hanging on the coatrack alongside theirs. They joined him in the back room, though there wasn’t much in the way of space; Sydney sat on the chair behind the desk, Catherine and Owen on the sofa. Watchmaking tools crowded the desk’s surface, shining under the light of an emerald-green shaded lamp. There were metal trays holding loose parts, tweezers, magnifying glasses, small pots of oil, other things Catherine couldn’t identify. A silver pocket watch was set to one side—the glass over the dial cracked through the middle—together with half-melted candles and empty cups of tea.

Guy closed the door and remained standing. “Did you get my letter?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Sydney. His gaze slid to Catherine, then Owen. He said nothing further.

“Well? Did you go to the university?”

“Indeed, I did.”

“And?”

Sydney leaned back in his chair. “Why are you so interested in this timepiece, Guy? It’s only a story, after all. Are you sure it even exists?” He returned his attention to Owen. “Are you still looking for work, Mr. Smith?”

“Yes,” said Owen, though his voice rose a little, as if he were uncertain. “Do you… work at the university? Mr. Nolan said—”

Sydney interrupted him with a laugh. “Do I work at the university? Guy, you didn’t tell him that, did you?”

Guy stood motionless by the door. Catherine supposed he’d rather steer past this conversation completely.

Still looking at Sydney, Owen wrung his hands together. “Mr. Nolan said your work was… unpleasant. If I may ask, what is it you do?”

A smile tugged at the edge of Sydney’s mouth. His eyes glinted in the lamplight as he leaned forward. “Yes, I’ll tell you, shall I? Perhaps you’ll take to it as well. You can make quite a bit of coin, if you can stomach it.”

Guy started, “Sydney—”

Sydney paid him no mind. “You see, Mr. Smith, I dig up bodies. Those learned men at the university? The anatomists? They need a ready supply for their dissections, more than just executed criminals, and they pay finely for them.”

Owen blanched. He pressed back against the sofa cushions, staring at Sydney. He let out a quiet, shuddering breath, and the next moment, he was on his feet, stumbling out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Catherine heard the staircase creak sharply as he made his way up.

Guy shot Sydney a furious look. “Well done, Sydney. Are you pleased with yourself? You’ve just terrified him half to death.”

“He asked. I’ve yet to find a delicate way to put it.”

Guy folded his arms over his chest. “Do you have information about the timepiece or not? If not, you can leave.”

Sydney drew himself up. He stood over Guy, looking down at him. Guy held his ground, chin tipped up, eyes narrowed.