“It makes you think, does it not?”

Malarkey squinted past the brim of Garrick’s top hat, searching for the magician’s eyes. “Perhaps, I am thinking, Garrick did not bring his acid, and this whole affair is bluff.”

“Well, then,” responded Garrick, a sickly glow emanating from his teeth, “at the very least you shall die in this chair, and I shall tattoo something tasteless on your barrel chest.”

Malarkey was bent but not broken, and Garrick realized from his new knowledge of psychology and interrogation techniques gleaned from Felix Sharp’s studies that a proud man must be given an out: a way to supply the information needed that left him with some dignity.

“I respect you, Otto. So I have a proposition for you. I will buy out your contract, simple as that. Fifty sovereigns in your poke, right this second, which I’ll wager is more than you ever had from the instigator. Fifty sovs and you suspend all operations undertaken on the word of this man who hired you. A nice purse for the name of he who pointed the Rams my way. And I’ll sweeten the pot. I seek a day’s amnesty only. If I have not taken care of the problem by sundown, then you are free to hunt me once more.”

This was indeed a tempting offer. “We can murder you tomorrow?”

The teeth glinted again. “You can try, but three of your top bludgers have already tried, and I am sorry to say that Mr. Percival and Co. will not be attending this evening’s soirée.”

Malarkey thought as much. “Here is my counterproposal to you, Garrick. I am planning to close my eyes and sleep. Betimes I say things in my sleep that I would never say when in my waking mind. When I rouse myself, I expect to find you gone and a purse of coin stuffed into my paw. What do you think of that plan?”

Garrick withdrew the needle from Malarkey’s chest. “Close your eyes and find out.”

Mr. Charismo

GROSVENOR SQUARE. MAYFAIR. LONDON. 1898

Chevie first thought that Riley was anxious in the carriage, but she quickly realized that the boy was excited.

“Hey, kid. Are you okay?”

Riley was bobbing up and down in the brougham’s seat, bumping shoulders with Jeeves and Noble, who had been tasked with escorting them.

“Yes, Chevie, I am dandy. Don’t you know where we are going?”

Nowhere, thought Chevie glumly. We are staying right here in Victorian London. I could end up being my own greatgrandmother.

She looked out of the carriage’s window.

Check your surroundings, Special Agent.

They were somewhere in Piccadilly, perhaps driving toward Mayfair, judging by the spruced-up surroundings. The shoals of urchins had stopped clustering around the carriage’s rear wheels soon after they had left the Haymarket, and the number of beggars on the street had decreased as the number of bobbies walking the beat increased.