Go, go, go, get me to Mary’s place. The walls of my little world were closing in and the more I saw, the more I knew about the danger posed to myself and anyone in my proximity. Lord Barnes was, is, the greatest thief catcher to ever live. London bears no secrets to this man. His tracking me was more a question of when than if. The train arrived and I sprinted past ushers and porters and commuters. I sprinted past the regular folk on their way to regular spouses and children and sit-down dinners. Mary’s flat was cleaned out and turned over, just like my flat, just like Saxon’s. China cups were smashed, the easel and chairs were rendered into sticks and stacked in the room’s center. All like before. I went to the bedroom and found another torn mattress, shredded clothing and a note pinned to the wall by a gold pen knife. The cards don’t belong to you. Neither does the girl.
