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situation that drove her to exclaim, “But he had no right!”
    “’E’s the law, Miss Snitch. Right got nofin’ to do with it,” Witwicky murmured.
    “Them two foreign pikers wif ‘im weren’t no law,” the Bull muttered.
    Aline’s ears pricked. “Foreign pike …? You mean, someone accompanied Lieutenant Matthews on this … this ridiculous errand?”
    “Oh, Aye,” Witwicky scowled, scratching the skin under his cast, his look angry and not a little frightened by what he was remembering.
    “Describe these men,” she said in a low voice.
    “Fine gennellmen by the look of them. One of ‘em were dark, evil-lookin’ like one of them Algerians, with yellow eyes. Spoke gibberish, mostly.”
    Aline’s breath seized. Romanov. She was certain of it. Who else on earth had yellow eyes?
    “Devil cant,” the Bull said, and spat on the floor. She eyed the offending blob, a mere speck upon a floor so filthy she reminded herself to take off her shoes before entering her boarding house tonight.
    “The other were a big blond bruiser. One of them Abominables, by the look of him. Made Maffews look like a runt. That one didn’t talk. But ‘e sure is a fine listener. The dark arab wot’s with ‘im mumbled somefin in ‘is devil’s speak, and next fing we knows is me arm’s in a cast, and the Bull’s ‘ere’s in the bleedin’ Thames.”
    Aline was outraged. Shocked. A little sickened. “How dare he!”
    Witwicky and the Bull both stared at her, nonplussed by her reaction. She gave them a contrite, shame-filled look of apology. Poor sods. They were rascals, thieves, and general ne’er-do-wells, but they hadn’t stood a chance.
    “I apologize for this high-handed behavior, gentlemen. I did not send these men to you. Indeed, I had no idea they even knew I came here. Rest assured, I shall get to the bottom of this.”
    “Oh, no ye don’t, Miss Snitch,” Witwicky snarled, grabbing her elbow and herding her towards the exit. “You’ll be getting’ to the bottom of nofin’, far as I’m concerned. These friends of yourn …”
    “They are not my friends …”
    “Whatever. I”ll not be crossin’ the likes of ‘em. I value me livelihood. And me limbs. You’ll be leavin’ ‘ere now han’ not returnin’.”
    He pushed open the door and shoved her onto the street.
    “At least let me pay you …” What was she saying?
    “No!” Witwicky cried, paling. “I’ll be takin’ none of yer money. Debt is settled.” He moved to shut the door, but then paused, gave her an assessing glance. “And don’t fink to try your ‘and at another establishment. Word is your protectors ‘ave been up an’ down ‘alf of London scaring the bejeezus out of me colleagues.”
    Aline thought she was angry before, but now she was shaking with her fury. “You mean I’ve been blackballed?”
    “Somefin’ like that,” Witwicky sniffed. “Doubt you’ll be placin’ another wager any time soon.”
    With that, he slammed the door in her face.
    Aline stared at the grimy door in stupefaction for several long moments.
    Romanov. Damn his eyes! The utter nerve of the man!
    She could almost see the scene that must have unfolded in Witwicky’s place of business. Matthews pounding his version of the law into the Bull’s nose, Fyodor rushing in to underscore the point by breaking a few bones, and tearing a few limbs off, and the Professor himself standing in elegant attendance, enjoying himself immensely.
    She could see in her mind’s eye her employer’s smug smile of satisfaction curving one edge of his lips, probably congratulating himself on having tidied up his secretary’s little peccadillo.
    How did he even know about Witwicky? How did he even know about her habit, full stop? She had been so discreet, so careful.
    Oh, oh, oh!
    Aline stomped her foot on the pavement and whirled around. He thought he could strong-arm her into ceasing her wagering, did he?
    She forgot all about her vow to quit gambling as she strode over