“—yes, after his mother died, to study here. We have not heard from him in some months, and I am worried. He can get intensely obsessive and forget to care for himself as he should. We wanted to make certain he is well.”

Mary raised an eyebrow. “But you do not know where he lives?”

Justine answered. “His friend Henry came several months ago to check on him, but—”

I coughed pointedly. Justine had been so silent with the men! But something about this Mary had her at ease. Justine was not controlling the conversation the way she should have been.

“Did your Henry not report back?” Mary watched me curiously, her expression shrewd. Why would the men swallow all my implausible explanations, but this girl catch every snag?

“He did,” I said. “Though he has always been less than meticulous and neglected to give us an actual address for Victor.”

“And Henry cannot help you now?”

I had avoided answering Justine’s questions about where Henry was, allowing her to assume he was here, too, and could help us. She trusted him. It had made her more comfortable coming. But if I wanted answers from Mary, I would have to provide some as well. “Henry left for England not long after he found Victor,” I said, setting down my teacup and leaning forward so I could not see Justine. “You can imagine what an exasperating trip this has been!”

Justine whipped her head around. “England? You knew? But you said he was here!”

“He was. Until about six months ago.”

I finally looked over and her expression made me feel as fragile as my teacup. I braced for anger, but found only hurt and gentle reproach. “Why did you not tell me?”

“I knew you would worry, coming to an unknown city without someone you trusted here. But Victor is here, and I trust him. I am sorry I did not tell you about Henry. I needed you to come. I cannot do this alone.”

Justine kept her gaze on her food, but one of her hands disappeared into her purse, where I was certain she clutched the little lead soldier. “You should have told me.”

“I should have.” I searched her face to see whether she was more upset with me or with Henry. I had never been able to tell whether Justine held any feelings more than friendship for him. I had never encouraged them, exactly, wishing to hold on to all my options. But now those options were gone for both of us. I reached out and squeezed her arm, drawing her close to me. She came, though reluctantly. “I am sorry. It was selfish of me to keep that from you. But I am so worried about Victor, I could not think straight.”