And as she was preparing to leave, an officer came knocking at the door. Catherine had already given a statement to the police, but Guy had not, being asleep in their lobby. The officer sat with them in the back room, asking Guy questions and writing it all down. He set down his pen finally and asked, “What of the timepiece? Where is it?”

Guy pulled open one of the desk drawers, lifting out the silver pocket watch. It fit neatly in the palm of his hand, and he showed the officer the cracked crystal. “Do you require it for evidence?”

“No need,” the officer replied. “Mr. Carlyle has given us a confession.”

Catherine sat back against the sofa, saying little, until the officer took his leave. Guy saw him out, and after closing the door, he turned over the sign. His gaze went from Catherine to Owen. There was a sorrowful cast to his expression; he did not try to hide it from them. These past few days were a weight on all their hearts. He took a deep breath and said, “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?”

They went out together into the chill autumn evening. In Fernhill Park, a few leaves still clung to the branches, while others covered the grass in a patchwork of orange and brown. The pond lay still and glistening, the old bridge creaking beneath their feet. The three of them leaned against it, peering down at the water. Catherine saw their reflections, Guy next to her and Owen on the other side of him. She was reminded of the three of them standing in the abandoned church, the gaping roof above them showing the night sky. She marveled at what they had accomplished since then.

Dusk was settling in, streetlamps glowed in the distance, and through the trees, Catherine could see on to the embankment, as well as the way toward the public cemetery. She’d thought the city so dull and gray, but it wasn’t—even as the weather turned bitter and the flowers wilted in window boxes, there was still light and warmth to be found.

EPILOGUE

RAIN SPECKLED the streets as Catherine set off toward the watchmaker’s shop. The air this morning was warm with the coming spring, and the city was just waking up. Awnings were lifted, window displays were set out, and mail coaches rattled down the road. When the green-fronted building came into sight, she clutched her trunk tighter, walked a little faster. The OPEN sign wasn’t yet upon the door. She knocked, keeping at it until the door opened and Guy Nolan stood before her.

He was dressed simply in a white shirt and a dark waistcoat, a pair of brown wool trousers, a watch chain hanging from his waistcoat pocket. With a grin, he stepped back, gesturing her inside.

“I didn’t sleep at all last night,” he said in a rush. “This will be an adventure, won’t it?”