I heard a groan. My dog-kicking friend was being savaged about his ears by Mr. Tibbles, who was making a good show of small-scale mauling. I parked Tamar in a chair and made my way to the survivor, who regained enough presence of mind to bring his hands to his face and weakly call for help.

I kicked him in the gut. Mr. Tibbles looked on with approval. Tamar began to cry.

“You move and I’ll kill you,” I said. “Nod if you understand.”

He nodded. Blood was gushing from his mouth and running freely down his shirt.

I returned to Tamar, kneeled in front of her, made her look me square in the face.

“Were there more? Did you see anyone besides these two?”

Her gaze went past me and locked onto the dead man on the floor. The pool of blood around his head was expanding.

I shook her, gently. Mr. Tibbles growled.

“Miss Fields. How many?”

“Two,” she said. Her voice was distant. “Just these two. They said they were here to see Father.”

“Did they come in a carriage?”

She just stared.

“All right. Here’s what we’re going to do. Which of the next-door neighbors is your favorite?”

“The Marshalls.”

“Good. We’re going to go see the Marshalls. You have them summon the Watch. I’ll stay here. Can you do that?”

“I killed him.”

“No. I killed him. I came in and found you struggling and we fought and I killed him.”

“No. I did it-”

I put my face close to hers.

“No. I did it. Me, you understand? They laid hands on you, and I barged in and we fought. You’re in shock. But that’s what happened.”

“But…”

“But nothing. I killed him. Got it?”

She tried to form a word and failed. I gathered her up, and Mr. Tibbles leaped into her arms, and we sidled around the moaning man.

“I catch you up and walking, I’ll kill you,” I said. “Stay put or die. Your choice.”

I took Tamar out of there. I didn’t like leaving the man behind, but if they’d come in a carriage they probably hadn’t come alone, and I didn’t want to risk giving anyone another shot at Tamar.

I might not be so lucky next time.

I made my way out of the Fields home without incident. The road was filled with cabs and carriages. None slowed or stopped. Tamar was turning pale and shivering. I couldn’t see any marks on her, but I was beginning to wonder if she’d taken a blow to the head during the fracas.

I yelled once I was out the door. My driver saw a distressed young woman and bloody brass knuckles and dived from his perch to the street, a fair-sized Avalante sword suddenly gleaming in his hand.

“We need to get next door,” I shouted. He came running, dodging cabs right and left. “Keep an eye out for company.”

The Marshalls were home. They took Tamar in and sent a lad for the Watch and within moments Tamar was surrounded by a dozen anxious men of various ages, weapons at ready, while another half dozen maids and cooks stood at the doors with rolling pins and skillets in case their men-folk were taken by surprise.

I brushed off questions, and my driver and I hustled back to Tamar’s house.

The dead man remained, but he was alone. A trail of blood led out the door, and then stopped, and I knew I’d let my best chance of getting to the bottom of this mess stroll cheerfully away.

“Never a dull moment,” said my driver. “You hurt?”

He was looking at my gut. I was bleeding from a shallow gash right above my navel. I hadn’t felt a thing.

“It’s nothing. Ruined another shirt, though. Which way you think he went?”

The driver shrugged. “No way to tell.”

“You’d better take off.” The bleeding was getting worse. I cussed and found a handkerchief and pressed it to the wound. “I had to kill one of them. The Watch is likely to scoop you up too.”

“We can both be gone before they get here.”

I shook my head. “Thanks. But head on back to Avalante. Tell Evis I’ll be a little late dropping by tonight.”

Whistles began to blow. “My name’s Reggie.” He stuck out his hand and realized I was in no condition to shake it and grinned. “Tell you what. I’ll be parked two blocks north of here for the next three hours. If they cut you loose, I’ll give you a ride.”

“Deal.” My head was beginning to swim, but I wanted to pilfer the corpse’s pockets before the Watch had a chance to do the same. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

We parted. I hurried through the door and back up the stairs, wary but alone, half-expecting the dead man to be gone too.

For once that day, I was lucky. The corpse was still there, staining the Fields' floor with a dark pool of blood. The walking stick that had killed him was gone. I realized it must have been his, since the other man had taken it.

I knelt and searched his pockets. All were empty. No copper, no paper, no helpful scrap of this or incriminating corner of that.

His blank eyes stared up at me. They were as cold and merciless in death as they had been while he held Tamar and laughed at her distress. I reached down and closed them with my bloodied hand.

The Watch burst inside, whistles blowing, men shouting.

“Up here,” I called. I turned but remained on my knees and put my hands high up over my head. “Second floor. I’m a licensed finder. The girl is safe next door.”

Booted feet came rushing up stairs. I waited for the forces of Law and Order to come thundering my way.

Reggie the driver promised to wait three hours.

I was wondering if I’d be out in three years.

It’s a good thing my story was simple and basically true, or I’d never have managed to tell it so many times without getting tripped up. I told it to the sergeant on the scene. I told it again a half dozen times on my way to the Watch house downtown. I told it again another dozen times, at least, inside the Watch house.

Each retelling was met with more of the same. The same blank impassive faces, the same rounds of questions, the same heavy sighs and orders to write it down and sign it and then start over again.

I was never charged, although I admitted killing a man. They never used his name, which told me they didn’t know him either. No one ever hinted that Tamar landed the killing blow, which told me she’d managed to stick to the plan.

After a small eternity spent reliving the same twenty seconds of terror over and over again, I was simply ushered into a crowded waiting room and told not to leave Rannit.

Waiting for me was Tamar, still pale, and her father, still furious.

I stood. My back ached and my mouth was as dry as a mummy’s scalp, and all I wanted to do was go home and have a bath.

“I’m not the one who got you out,” said Mr. Fields, his voice low and barely audible over the din of the waiting room. “I’d have left you to rot.”

“Father.” Tamar hugged me briefly. She was still shaking. “He saved my life.”

“He’s the reason your life was in danger in the first place.”

“No, Mr. Fields, that just isn’t true. Those men would have come around had I never been involved.” I leaned down to put my face level with his. I’d had a long day so I poked him in the chest with my finger. “Thing is, Mr. Fields, they didn’t come to see me. They came to see you. But you wouldn’t play nice, so they came to get your daughter. I don’t know who they are, or why they did such a thing. But I believe you do. And the longer you keep that a secret the longer your family is at risk.”

“How dare you-”

“Is it the same people who took Carris Lethway? I’m betting it is. Which means you and the Lethways have something in common, besides kids in love. Are you going to tell me what that is, Mr. Fields? Or am I going to have to keep digging?”

A couple of Watchmen were taking an interest in our conversation.

“You’re mad,” he sputtered. “Mad.”

“I’m not the one keeping secrets while men come after his daughter.”