“Stone was keeping watch over your house that night. He saw me scramble out of the window and got me to his flat without my uncle catching up to us. He hid me there until we got directions for coming here.”

Still holding Gemma, half afraid she might disappear again, he turned his head to look to Stone. “Thank you.”

“I’d have told you she was safe, but the Dread Master insisted I keep mum.”

Barnabus turned wide eyes on Fletcher. Stone had just mentioned the head of their secretive society in the presence of someone who wasn’t meant to know anything about it.

“Calm your worries, Barnabus.” Fletcher held up the letter he’d received. “Stone was given permission to explain things to Gemma. Desperate times and whatnot.”

“You almost lost your membership on account of sharing just a bit of information with Elizabeth before she joined.”

“I doubt anyone is going to suggest the Dread Master be tossed out,” Fletcher said. “No one has that power.”

“Stone don’t know who this Dread Master is,” Gemma said. “And though I’m beholden to the bloke, I’m put out with him just the same. He wouldn’t let me send word to you that I was safe.” She gently touched Barnabus’s face. “You look like you’ve hardly slept in days.”

“I didn’t know what happened to you. I didn’t know where to find you. Sleeping, eating, resting . . . none of that mattered so long as you were in danger.”

“I knew you’d be worried and looking.” She remained in Barnabus’s arms but turned her gaze to Fletcher and Stone. “It was cruel not to tell him. He should’ve been told.”

“I know now,” Barnabus said. “And I’m staying here: Dread Master’s orders.”

He motioned to the sofa, hoping to sit there with her.

Gemma’s eyes suddenly widened, staring at his hands. “Is that blood?”

He’d not had a chance to clean his hands, and his skin was a horrifying rust color. “It’s not my blood. It’s Martin Afola’s.”

“Martin?” Stone looked from Fletcher to Barnabus, worry heavy in his eyes.

“The Mastiff sent one of his men to snuff Martin,” Fletcher said. “Stabbed him. He’s at a doctor’s surgery now. We’ll keep guard and hope for the best.”

“The Mastiff?” Gemma swallowed audibly.

“And the house where it happened had your family’s mark on it,” Fletcher said. “With the K second.”

“Uncle Silas,” she said.

“The K was underlined,” Barnabus added. “And the would-be murderer wasn’t old enough to be your uncle.”

She thought a moment. “Big fella? Bit of a dull swift?”

“Oi,” Fletcher said with a nod.

“That’ll be Silas’s boy, Claud.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “He were caught, then?”

“And the Mastiff doesn’t mean to free him,” Barnabus said. “He’s going to let him hang.”