“You don’t have any intention of sticking with our agreement,” she said. “What you really intend is I should simply be your banker, at any time you so desire. I imagine you lost quite a lot of money at the gambling tables last night, and what could be easier than hopping a train to get some more? Tedious journey aside, of course.”

“I wish you wouldn’t speak of our relationship as though it were merely financial,” Alfred said, his mouth tilting upwards in a mockery of a smile. “We’re family. Family support each other.”

“We’re not family,” Alva said. “You’re nothing but a leech, a disgusting, violent-minded leech, just like your brother.”

“A leech, am I?” Alfred stood, his slim frame still several inches taller than Alva’s, and took a step towards her. His breath huffed out rank with last night’s drink. “Are you going to try to squash me like you squashed him? I wouldn’t try it, Sister dearest.”

The sitting room door slammed open, making both Alfred and Alva jump.

“What!” Alfred exclaimed before he was picked up by the collar.

“Time for you to go,” Sam said, his jaw set.

“Sam, don’t—” But it was already too late: he was striding out of the room, half-dragging, half-marching Alfred out with him. She hurried behind them, coming into the hallway to see him throw Alfred—actually throw him—out onto the street.

“I’d better be seeing you walking away in the next three seconds,” Sam growled. “Or there’ll be worse coming to you than a crumpled collar.”

“Sam!”

“Alva, stay out of this.”

Alfred stood slowly, dusting his trousers and straightening his coat. “I’d advise you to keep your dog on a leash,” he said to Alva, keeping well back from Sam. “When you’re prepared to be rational, I’ll be staying at the Bell and Whistle.”

“Alfred,” she said, and when he looked at her she simply stared into those beautiful blue eyes, so like his brother’s. Trying, one last time, to understand. “What was your mother’s first name?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

The expression to cross his face was so familiar it was as though she’d seen another ghost.

“Have you finally gone insane? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Her given name, Alfred. Do you know it or not?” Sam stood tensely next to her, and though she knew what lay ahead, she took comfort in his nearness.

“Who cares?” Alfred said, and his voice wasn’t malicious, merely puzzled, as if he honestly couldn’t imagine why it was important. “She was a Baker, from the Philadelphia Bakers. That’s what’s important. I’m sure her first name is on any number of documents.”

“Her name was Helen,” Alva said quietly. “It’s on her grave, too. Go. Now.”