Fredrick stood in the dark, grimy alley, his mind still reeling from the bizarre encounter with Augusta. He was trying to decide if the promise of her future payment was worth the loss of his dinner and his bed for the night, when he saw the carriage. It was a dark, imposing shape at the end of the alley, a predator waiting patiently in the dark. He knew, with a sinking feeling, that his night was not yet over.
A man in a sharp, dark clothing got down from the driver's box. Mr. Rye approached the window. "Your Grace," he said, his voice a low, respectful murmur. "What are your orders?"
