Houndstooth took a pull on his cigar and let the smoke curl out of his nose. “Really?” he asked. “Because I could just as easily not find Adelia for you. I’m sure she’d rather not be found. Especially not by a man she went fugitive to avoid.”

Cal bit his toothpick in half. He did not respond.

Twenty minutes of thick, heavy silence later, toward the butt end of Houndstooth’s cigar, Archie walked in. She sat on the bench with her back against the wall, avoiding the too-small chairs that surrounded the other three sides of the table.

“Well, hot damn. If it isn’t the great Regina Archambault,” Cal drawled, putting unnecessary emphasis on “great” as he fingered the bandage that covered his left ear.

“Call me Archie,” she said, not looking at him. “Winslow, do you ’ave another one of those cigars to share? I’ve been on the road all goddamned day.”

As Houndstooth pulled his cigar case out of his pocket and cut a fresh one, the door eased open. Hero slid in, melting easily into the shadows of the dimly lit bar, and slipped into a chair.

“Well, that’s it. We’re all here.”

“Un moment, s’il vous plaît,” Archie said. She whistled a few short, high notes, like birdsong. A towheaded boy poked his head into the bar. She signaled him, and he perched on the bench next to her.

“This is Neville. ’E is my assistant.”

The table was still for a moment; then, everyone looked at Houndstooth. Archie addressed him directly, ignoring Cal and Hero.

“I trust ’im, Winslow. The boy knows where ’is loyalties lie. Plus, ’e knows that if ’e ever betrays us, I’ll gut ’im like a one-legged ’op. Isn’t that right, Neville?”

Neville nodded strenuously, looking only at Houndstooth.

“Well, if you trust him, Archie, then I suppose he can stay.”

Archie ashed her cigar onto the floor, satisfied.

“Well,” Houndstooth said. “Let’s all get to know each other. You all know me, so I’m not going to introduce myself—forgive me, Neville, you’ll just have to figure me out on your own time.” Neville nodded again, with vigor.

“Archie,” Houndstooth said, gesturing with the stump of his cigar, “is the finest con either side of the Mississippi. Her meteor hammer can take down a charging bull faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. She’s saved my life nine and a half times.”

“Ten,” Archie said, grinning around her cigar.

“Nine and a half,” Houndstooth responded with a smile. “Also, she’s got a connection to a certain U.S. marshal of whom we don’t want to run afoul.” Cal looked as though he had a comment to add. Archie levelled a pitiless stare at him, and he thought better of it.

“Hello, Archie,” Hero said, extending their hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”