I looked up at Evan, my neck prickling oddly, as if I were in danger. “Who is Miss Catherine Hollis? What does it mean?”

Was she one of the women who had not emerged?

Evan shook his head. “I do not know.”

I turned the pages back in large chunks, watching the dates shift backward: 1810, 1807, 1805. The word cat caught my attention. I stopped turning.

Wager & Stake: Find a man to eat a cat alive. £5,000.

Good God, that horrid story was true? Nausea rose through me at the thought. I traced my finger across the page to the names: Kratos and Dionysus. One of those names must be Lord Milroy, if the rumor was accurate. So he was a member, but was he Kratos or Dionysus? I hurriedly turned the page away from the sickening wager.

1802, 1798, 1792.

“I think we should search the house for the missing women,” Evan whispered.

“Evan, look! This goes back more than twenty years.” I pointed to the year of his duel.

He looked over my shoulder at the faded scrawl. “What does it say? Is there anything odd?”

I gave a dry laugh. “Odd? It is all odd. And heinous.”

He reached down, pointing to an entry. “Look at that name, in May, the month before the duel.”

I leaned closer, making out the elaborate hand: Miss Sally Lawrence.

Lawrence? I knew that name. I gasped, the sudden recognition halting my breath. “It is the same name as the doctor who attended the duel.”

“Indeed it is,” Evan said, frowning.

I read the rest of the entry. It, too, had a wager, stake, and result: 2,35, £1000, 2,30. The winner was Chronos.

“Could it be a coincidence?” I asked.

“It could be. This lady might not even be connected to the doctor. Lawrence is a common enough name,” Evan said. “Even so, I think it is worth following up.”

“I think so too.” I eyed the page. It was near the start of the book. Before I could change my mind, I grabbed the top of the page and wrenched it out. A clean rip at the stitching.

Evan stared at me. “What are you doing?”

“Evidence.” I folded it and shoved it into my jacket pocket. “It will not show. Look.”

I turned the bulk of the book pages back to the current date. We both bent to study the spine. “See, you cannot even tell.”

At the corner of my eye, I saw something move at the door.

“Oi,” a thick voice called. “What are you doin’ ’ere?”

Evan and I whirled around.

With heart hammering, I stared at the old man, who stood inside the doorway watching us with a frown. He folded his arms across his leather apron, a limp hessian sack dangling from one hand.

“You shouldn’t be in ’ere.” His diction was oddly drawn out, his voice without intonation. “Where’s Reed and Gibbon?”