“Uncle Arlo.” The name pulled painfully from her. She took an involuntary step backward, searching for a means of escape he weren’t already blocking.

A sinister smile spread across his despised face. He sauntered closer, leaving Barnabus behind him and unable to see the look he was giving her. He did not, however, lower his voice when he spoke. “I wondered how long it’d take you to show your face here, Gemma girl. You cain’t run from this family. We’ll always sniff you out.”

Gemma didn’t hesitate. Silas was more dangerous, but Arlo was no one to be trifled with. She reached for the window next to her, threw it open, and scrambled out. Her feet hit the soft soil, and, without a moment’s pause, she ran for her life.

Gemma had practically jumped out the window, and Mr. Snelling had followed her. It all happened in an instant, and Barnabus’s mind hadn’t time to catch up.

Uncle Arlo. Gemma’s strangled declaration echoed in his mind. His “uncle” was her uncle. He’d tracked her to Barnabus and used him to pull her out of hiding.

Barnabus flew out the door, being closer to it than the window. He had to catch the imposter and help Gemma get away. There was no sign of either of them. He could hear no footfalls and saw no shadows lurking about. He didn’t even know which direction they had gone. How could he find her if he didn’t know which way to go?

The Donnellys, maybe? No. She wouldn’t risk leading her family to them, especially with Mr. Sorokin and the children there.

Gemma knew people in Southwark, but that was her family’s stronghold. She wouldn’t go there. Not being a member of the Dread Penny Society, she wasn’t aware of the existence of their headquarters. She knew Barnabus had safe houses around London, but as far as he knew, she didn’t know how to find any of them.

She had nowhere to go and therefore could be anywhere.

He refused to believe Arlo Kincaid had caught her.

Barnabus could hardly scour London on his own. He needed help, and he knew where to find it. He made his way directly to Fletcher Walker’s flat. It was early enough yet that the man wouldn’t be asleep, but he couldn’t guarantee Fletcher would even be at home; he called on Elizabeth almost every evening. If Barnabus didn’t find him at home, he would go to Elizabeth’s school and ask for him there.

He hopped out of the hired hackney and rushed to the door. His frantic knock, bless the heavens, was answered quickly by Fletcher himself.

“We have a problem,” Barnabus said, pushing his way into the dim entryway. “The man I told you was probably my uncle came by tonight to meet Gemma.”