Tobias glanced at the ring. “What do you think became of the two boys you sold to this man?”

“Well, now, I never asked and that’s a fact.” Maud snorted. That’s why my clients came to me in the first place, you see. On account of they knew I wouldn’t ask any awkward questions.”

“Did you ever hear any gossip concerning the nature of the trade this man planned to teach the two boys?”

“Aye.” Maud brooded on the ring. “There was talk now and again over the years about the man who wore a gold death’s-head. Some said that if ye paid him enough, he’d get rid of anyone ye wanted, even a rich man or a fine lady. But only if he agreed that they deserved it.”

“Do they say what became of this man who was in the business of dealing death?”

Maud raised her gin bottle. “Heard he’d retired. Left the business to his apprentices.”

Anthony stood with Dominic in the night-shrouded park across the street from Number 20 Treadhall Square. The town house they were watching was an elegantly designed three-story affair, one of several in a row. Each had a front area enclosed with a waist-high iron fence and a gate.

They had followed Pierce, according to Tobias’s instructions, and made no move to stop him, keeping a considerable distance behind him. The activity of the busy streets had covered their footsteps.

But a few seconds ago they had arrived in the square just in time to see their quarry vault lightly over the railing that guarded the front area of one of the town houses. Pierce disappeared down the flight of steps that led to the kitchen entrance located below the street level.

“If you ask me, there’s only one reason why he went down there dressed in that cloak,” Dominic said. “And it wasn’t because he’s been summoned at one o’clock in the morning to dress a lady’s hair.”

“I know.” The reality of what was happening before their eyes sent a chill through Anthony.

“Hell’s teeth, what are we supposed to do now?” Dominic whispered. The only thing we can do is pound on the front door and try to raise the household.”

“They’ll likely think we’ve gone mad, ranting and raving about a murderer inside their home.”

“Have you got a better plan?”

“No.”

“We’d best make haste, in that case.” Anthony started forward. “I doubt that it will take Pierce long to complete his business. The man is a professional, if you will recall.”

Together they raced across the street and went up the steps of the silent town house. Anthony seized the heavy brass door knocker and banged it loudly six or seven times.

“That should rouse a maid or a footman,” Dominic muttered.

But to Anthony’s amazement, no one came to the door to demand an explanation for the late-night disturbance.

“Try again,” Dominic said. “Harder, for God’s sake.”

Anthony pounded the knocker a few more times. “Still no response. He took a step back and looked up at the darkened windows of the upper floors. “Perhaps whoever lives here gave his servants the night off.”

“This is a large house. I cannot believe that every single member of the staff would be given the same night off. There must be someone inside.”

“We’ve got to do something quickly,” Anthony said. “Maybe we should smash a window.”

“And get taken up on charges of housebreaking? I don’t think that is such a terrific plan. Wait, I’ve got an idea.”

Dominic let his small pack slide off his shoulder and lowered it to the ground. Untying the cord that secured the opening, he reached inside and drew out what appeared to be two sticks.

“What have you got there?” Anthony asked.

“A couple of tubes containing my new explosive formula.”

“Explosive formula?” Anthony hastily stepped back a couple of paces. “Hold on, here. What the devil are you doing?”

“I admit the mixture is still in need of refinement, but in small amounts like this it creates a very handsome display of fireworks. I brought the tubes with me tonight because it occurred to me that they might come in handy if we needed a distraction or a weapon of some sort in the event the hairdresser noticed us and tried something violent.”

“That was very farsighted of you.” Anthony watched Dominic strike a light. “Damnation, man, have a care with those things.”

“I’m using both of them because we need a disturbance that will arouse the entire street as well as anyone inside this house.”

Dominic lit two strings attached to the sticks. “This should do the trick.”

He hurled the sputtering tubes far out onto the pavement. There was a short, tense moment during which the sticks sputtered and sparked.

Then, with a crack and an ear-shattering roar, the explosive-filled casings erupted.

Lightning danced in the street.

Bright strips of fire sparkled and flashed. The fireworks sounded like a dozen pistols fired at once, over and over again. The noise boomed off the walls of the town houses and echoed on the stones of the pavement. “Very impressive,” Anthony shouted above the din.

“I’m trying to develop more variety in the colors of the display,”

Dominic yelled back. “At the moment I’m limited to red, white, and greens.”

A window on the upper floor of a neighboring town house opened with a bang. A man in a nightcap leaned out.

“Fire,” he screamed. “There’s fire in the street. Summon the watch.”

Several more windows slammed open. Other heads appeared.

The shout of fire went up across the square. A woman shrieked.

Doors were flung wide. One of them was the door of Number 20.

“What’s this?” A woman with a head covered in sparse gray curls and a cap stood in the entrance, clutching a faded dressing gown around her thin body. She peered blearily at Dominic and Anthony.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded.

“There’s a murderer inside the house,” Anthony shouted.

“What’s that you say?” She cupped her hand to her ear. “Speak up, young man.”

“A murderer! Anthony pushed past her into the front hall. “He’s come to kill someone.”

“Stand aside,” Dominic ordered, following Anthony into the hall.

“We must stop him.”

“Now, see here, what d’ye think yer doing?” Alarmed, the woman fell back. “Help! Help! There’s housebreakers here.”

Anthony decided to change tactics. “The fire” he shouted directly into her ear. “We’ve got to get everyone out of the house.”

Her eyes widened in horror. “Fire, you say?”

“Is there anyone else here?” Dominic yelled.

“The master. Upstairs in his bed.” The woman glanced uncertainly up at the ceiling. “He can’t walk. He’ll be trapped up there.”

“We’ll bring him down,” Anthony promised.

He ran for the stairs, Dominic hard on his heels. They took the steps two at a time and emerged onto a darkened landing.

Anthony saw the flare of candlelight emanating from the door of a bed chamber at the end of a long hall. A cloaked figure appeared in the entrance of the room, silhouetted by the glare behind him.

“There he is,” he yelled at Dominic.

They charged forward. The intruder left the doorway and fled in the opposite direction. When he reached the end of the hall, he whirled to face them, the wings of his cloak flaring wide.

“Watch out,” Dominic said. “He might have a pistol.”

They slowed warily. But the intruder did not pull out a weapon.

Instead, he yanked open another door and disappeared down the back stairs.

“Bloody hell.” Anthony launched himself forward again. “He’s getting away.”

“Tony, the bed chamber,” Dominic shouted. “He set it ablaze.”

Anthony became aware of the fact that the glow of light from the doorway of the bed chamber was too intense for a candle flame. He slammed to a halt, spinning around to stare into the room. Dominic was already inside, using a blanket to beat at the flames that leaped at the end of a massive four-poster bed.

A thin man in a nightcap cowered against the pillows, arms flailing helplessly. “Save me, save me! She tried to smother me. Tried to murder me in my own bed.”

Anthony seized a heavy quilt. Dominic grabbed the other end.

They flung it over the bedding in an attempt to smother the flames.

The killer ran through the streets, barely able to think clearly enough to follow the map in his mind. When he could not run any farther, he ducked into an alley to catch his breath. He yanked off the blond wig and the cloak and dropped both on the paving stones.

Chest heaving, he stood for a moment, trying to collect his senses and his nerve. Bloody hell, but that had been close. Much too close this time. His heart was pounding, and he knew it was not just because of the mad dash to safety. He could no longer deny the fear.

It surged through him, clouding his brain and making him want to vomit. Was this how it was for you, Zachary? Did you ever know this frantic, gut-twisting sensation?

He still could not fathom the fact that he had been so nearly caught in the act. Where had those two come from to loose that shower of fire in the street and hound him through the house, chasing him away before he could complete his business?

But he knew the answer. Miss Emeline and Miss Priscilla had lied through their pretty teeth. March and his companion had not only made significant progress in their investigations, they had identified him as a suspect.

March had set that pair to watch him tonight. They had followed him, hoping to catch him in the act.

The game was finished. March had won.

He glanced back at the little heap of clothing and the blond wig.