As I worked through the dust and smoke and falling night, I noticed more men join the effort. Most were police constables, their dark blue uniforms smudges against the gloom. Bessie and her Jack worked tirelessly, and I hoped Jack might be given some leniency in his sentence for his efforts.

At one point, when I straightened up to catch my breath, I saw, through dust and milling constables, Daniel.

He stood about thirty feet from me down the street, on the other side of the break. He wore his workingman’s clothes, cap jammed on his head, his face creased with lines of sweat and dust. He finished lifting away stones to free a trapped man then turned and began questioning one of the guards, who was as shaken as the prisoners.

I started to go to him, but checked myself as Daniel turned to a slim gentleman who’d broken through a knot of constables. The man did not have to push his way past the lads—they seemed to melt before him with the air of those deciding they’d rather be doing something elsewhere.

The newcomer wasn’t very tall, but he commanded attention. He removed his hat to wipe his dust-coated face, revealing thin graying hair cropped close to his head. He replaced the hat, a bowler like any police inspector might wear, and removed spectacles from his pocket, looping them around his ears.

Mr. Thanos wore spectacles when he needed to read, a fact that embarrassed him, though I thought they made him look scholarly. I had the feeling at times that Mr. Thanos wished the spectacles at the bottom of the sea.

This man wore his spectacles as though daring anyone to mock him. Rather than hiding his eyes, they drew attention to them. Gray, I thought, or light blue, though I could not be certain from this distance.

What I did see was that his eyes were cold. It was like looking at winter. The man’s demeanor fortified this appearance, as he stood arrogantly upright, gazing about the ruins as though deriding them and the guards who should have prevented the blast.

Daniel squared his shoulders as the man approached him, as though bracing himself for a daunting encounter.

The man asked a question, a brief one, his mouth barely opening to let out sound. Daniel began to talk, indicating the wall, the rubble, the fallen prisoners. He kept his motions economical, as though knowing his listener would not appreciate dramatic gesticulations.

Another question, even briefer. Daniel shook his head, his hands falling to his sides.

The man’s lips tightened. If he’d been cold before, now he became an iceberg. He swept the crowd with his gaze, and when it fell on me, I shivered as though touched by ice.

He snapped his attention back to Daniel but spoke no more. Daniel held himself rigidly until the man swung away and turned that cold gaze on an unfortunate guard.