Lady Clarence paused to breathe, looking helplessly toward the window. “No address was on that man’s vial, thank heavens. I know little more than this, Eliza, but I have heard whispers between officers that there is another person, perhaps two, who came forward with something similar, look-alike containers that they discovered with the same little bear etching, and each of them has an account of an unexpected death among their close circles. Who knows how many there will be! But now there is talk of a repeat killer, and a great rush to identify the illegible address. They have deciphered a couple of the letters, so it is only a matter of time before they muster the mapmakers and trace every street.”

She ran her hand over the top of the dresser next to us, which was spotless until her fingerprints left an oily smear. “This matters greatly to me, of course,” she said, lowering her voice even further. “Late last evening, the bailiff confronted me about my maid’s claim that I killed my husband. And what could I do except deny it? So now, the illegible address is even more important to the authorities, as they intend to speak to the dispenser of the jar to determine who purchased it. And I am so glad you came, for how could I now escape such prying eyes to tell Nella of this? Would she give them my name? Oh, go now, and convince her otherwise! Tell her she must leave in an instant, otherwise they will find her and employ whatever tricks they must until she gives up her secrets.”

Lady Clarence shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “And to think I threatened to reveal her after she threw the powder in the fire! My God, how it has all turned against me. Go now, or we will all find ropes around our necks by nightfall.”

Of further questions, I had none. I did not care to know more about the man in the drawing room with the matching vial, or where the deceiving lady’s maid had run off to, or whether the poor Lord Clarence had even been laid yet in the ground. I knew all there was to know: it was more than Mr. Amwell’s spirit that haunted me now. The shadow of my mistake, which I thought removed only hours ago, had now returned with a vengeance. I must make haste to Nella’s at once. Except—

“What time is it?” I asked. The Tincture to Reverse Bad Fortune was, now more than ever, of utmost importance. Nothing else could save Nella, and me, from this predicament.

Lady Clarence gave me a surprised look. “There is a clock in the corridor,” she said. But as we made our way out of the room, I exhaled in frustration. The clock said it was not even half one; only twenty-eight minutes had passed since I stoppered the vial.