Martin nodded. “Seems that way. He’s getting bolder. People are terrified, and rightly so. He had been threatening them into compliance. Now he’s just killing ’em.”

Slipping women free from the unrelenting grasp of madams and bullyboys was Barnabus’s particular emphasis in this organization. But a man who was heartlessly murdering people was everyone’s concern.

“Ought we to be holding off on our efforts with the public-facing organization we’ve started?” Brogan asked.

Barnabus had asked himself the same question. The two of them had been charged with creating a front for the society, an acknowledged charitable organization the members’ friends and families could be part of so the DPS needn’t tell quite so many lies. It also served as a distraction to those who might be paying a bit too much attention to what the penny dreadful authors of London were doing in secret.

The work they’d dedicated themselves to involved hampering extremely dangerous and often powerful people, thwarting their crimes, helping their victims escape. Sometimes, the work they did was not entirely legal. It was crucial for their safety, their freedom, and their ability to continue their work that their activities be kept secret from everyone outside their organization. Even their own families didn’t know of their efforts.

That secrecy, however, came with complications. Family members asked questions, pieced together unintended clues. Keeping the secret was becoming increasingly difficult. Some members had contemplated resigning from the DPS because they couldn’t continue the ruse needed to protect those they’d saved and those they loved.

And so the DPS had created a sister organization: the Charitable Authors League of London. In full view of all and with the knowledge, blessing, and participation of their families, they would be undertaking efforts throughout London to ease suffering and want. Running two organizations simultaneously was difficult, but the survival of so many depended on yet another deception: the lie that “CALL” was the only thing this group of writers was involved in.

But did they dare continue with CALL given the Mastiff’s growing threats?

“I think,” Barnabus said, “we’d actually do best to push ahead. CALL’s first charitable effort can be undertaken on the street where the fire occurred. We could do some good for people the Mastiff has terrorized, all while providing us cover for snooping around the ashes a bit, seeing what we can find.”

“Excellent idea,” Fletcher said. “And while we’re sniffing about, we’ll see if we can’t sort out what happened to the victims of the fire.”

“‘What happened to them’?” Elizabeth repeated in confusion. “They were killed.”

“Aye, that they were. Their bodies were recovered and then buried. But now those bodies have disappeared.”