The staff had procured a plank for transporting Martin. Moving him a little at a time, Barnabus, Fletcher, Brogan, and Dr. Lowry shifted him onto it. Brogan kept pressure on the wound.

“Go with Dr. Lowry,” Fletcher said to Brogan. “Keep us informed.”

“Aye.”

A cart was waiting at the back of the house. The stable staff helped Dr. Lowry and Brogan get Martin settled, then sat on either side of him.

As the cart rolled away, one of the maids stepped up even with Barnabus. “Is Martin going to die?”

“I don’t know. But Dr. Lowry can be depended on. And Martin managed to say a few words, which is a good sign.”

“Everyone likes Martin. If any of us gets our hands on Claud, you’d best believe we’ll thrash him.”

“So will I.” Barnabus’s jaw set, anger bubbling now that he wasn’t actively doctoring. “So will I.”

He paced away, unable to keep still. Gemma was still missing. Martin had been stabbed. The Kincaids were terrorizing London. The Mastiff remained out of reach and was on the prowl. It was too much.

Fletcher walked alongside him. “Martin said Claud was a plant—a spy.”

Barnabus forced himself to breathe and think. “If Martin knew that about Claud, it’s possible Claud knew that about Martin.”

Fletcher nodded. Strain pulled at his usually jovial features. “Claud discovering that would only have led to an attack if Claud was placed here by the Mastiff.”

“Martin wouldn’t have been careless about that information,” Barnabus said.

Fletcher picked up his pace. “I doubt Claud sorted it out; he was likely told.”

“You don’t think one of us—?”

Fletcher shook his head. “I’d guess the Mastiff figured it out, or at least guessed that we’d have someone watching from the inside and set his informant on alert.”

They’d passed through the servants’ entrance. Lowering his voice, Barnabus said, “I received a letter from Serena. She’s heard that the Mastiff discovered someone who’s been causing him ‘grief’ and that he was going to be ‘snuffing out’ that person.”

Fletcher glanced back at the house. “That person being Martin, it seems.”

“If I’d suspected that Martin was the target, I would have come directly here. Might have prevented it.”

Fletcher shook his head. “That she even tried is . . . well, that were a mountain of a risk, that. Right bricky, she is.”

She was brave, there was no denying that. Barnabus would have to make certain she had been moved to another house, somewhere she felt safe. He likely ought to be seeing what could be done to get her out of London entirely. Perhaps Mr. Sorokin could create another death declaration and forged letter of reference.

Fletcher eyed the area around them with a narrowed gaze. “What do you suppose the chances are that murdering bloke is somewhere nearby, watching to see if he managed the thing?”