“It wouldn’t be so bad if Russell hadn’t shot Lord Dalgleish last year,” Burgeson mused. “You wouldn’t know about that. But the revolution, in that history book you gave me, the one in the Kingdom of Russ, the description all sounds exceedingly familiar, and most uncomfortably close to the bone. In particular, the minister named Stolypin, and the unfortunate end he came to.” He coughed damply.

Olga cleared her throat. “Is there somewhere I can try this on?” she asked.

“In the back,” said Burgeson. “Mind the stove on your way through.” He paused for breath as Olga squeezed past.

“Is she serious?” he asked Miriam quietly.

“Serious about me, and my faction.” Miriam frowned. “She’s not politicized, if that’s what you’re asking about. Sheltered upbringing, too. But she’s loyal to her friends and she has nothing to gain from the Emergency here. And she knows how to shoot.”

“Good.” Erasmus nodded gravely. “I wouldn’t want you to be placing your life in the hands of a dizzy child.”

“Placing my—what?”

“Two strangers. Not constabulary or plainclothes thief-takers, one of them looking like a Chinee-man. They’ve been drinking in the wrong establishments this past week, asking questions. Some idiots, the kind who work the wrong side of the law—not politicals—these idiots have taken their money. Someone has talked, I’m sure of it. A name, Blackstones, was mentioned, and something about tonight. I wrote to you but obviously it hasn’t arrived.” He stared at her. “It’s a very deep pond you’re swimming in.”

“Erasmus.” She stared right back. “I am going to make this world fit to live in by every means at my disposal. Believe me, a couple of gangsters playing at cracksman won’t stop me.”

The curtain rustled. Olga stepped out, wearing a green two-piece outfit. “How do I look?” she asked, doing a twirl.

“Alright,” said Miriam. “I think. I’m not the right person to ask for fashion tips.”

“You look marvelous, my dear,” Erasmus volunteered gallantly. “With just a little work, a seamstress will have the jacket fitting perfectly. And with some additional effort, the patching can be made invisible.”

“That’s about what I thought.” Olga nodded. “I’d rather not, though.” She grinned impishly. “What do you say?”

“It’s fine,” said Miriam. She turned back to Burgeson. “Who leaked the news?” she asked.

“I want to find out.” He looked grim.

“Write to me, as I did to you, care of this man.” She wrote down Roger’s address on a scrap of card. “He works for me and he’s trustworthy.”

“Good.” Erasmus stared at the card for a moment, lips working, then thrust it into the elderly cast-iron stove that struggled to heat the shop. “Fifty pounds weight. That’s an awful lot.”

“We can move it in chunks, if necessary.”

“It won’t be,” he said absent-mindedly, as if considering other things.