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his cheek and suddenly the world came rushing in and he relaxed his arms and stepped away. He raised his head and was looking into the eyes of the handsome young man, who looked back at him without expression.
    Henry’s mind began to function again.
So sorry?
So sorry about what? What had Blue got to be sorry about? He was the one who …
    Still looking into the eyes of the young man, Henry suddenly knew, beyond doubt, that this was Blue’s new love.
Oh, Henry, I’m so sorry.
So sorry I took you at your word. So sorry I didn’t wait. So sorry I found somebody else.
So sorry we’re to be married?
    ‘Blue …’ Henry croaked, then stopped. What was he going to say? You should never have listened when I turned you down?
    ‘I know you came as soon as you could,’ Blue said.
    The young man, his eyes still on Henry’s, said inconsequentially, ‘You don’t know who I am, do you?’
    Henry said, ‘No.’ His voice was small.
    The young man gave a brief, bleak smile. ‘Comma,’ he said shortly.
    ‘Comma,’ Henry echoed.
Comma?
Blue’s peculiar, sneaky, chubby little brother? ‘Comma?’ It couldn’t be Comma. Nobody could change that much, even in two years. But now the name had been spoken Henry realised the young man had Comma’s eyes and the turn of Comma’s jaw. It was incredible.
    Comma nodded. His face was sober. He had a well-modulated voice and an air of sophistication Henry couldn’t match. ‘I’m sorry we meet again in such dreadful circumstances,’ he said.
    But really Henry couldn’t take his eyes off Blue. Why had he ever let her go? What was there in his life now that came even close to … ? He gazed at her adoringly, vaguely aware he must look like a puppy, and felt a rising excitement that came out of nowhere.
Maybe it isn’t too late!
    Blue said, ‘What will you do now?’
    Henry stared at her, not really knowing what she was talking about, not really caring. He allowed himself to smile a little. ‘What?’ he asked.
    Then he watched it happen in a sort of ghastly slow motion. Blue’s tears dried and a look of horror crawled across her face. Her eyes grew wide. ‘No one’s told you!’ she said. She glanced around with growing anger. But the faces that looked back were just as puzzled as Henry’s own. ‘No one’s told you,’ she said again, not angrily this time, but quietly, with shock. She looked him in the eye, her face a wooden mask.
    ‘Henry, Mr Fogarty is dead,’ she said.

Chapter Seventeen

    ‘My guess is they plan to kill you once the money is paid over,’ Madame Cardui said calmly.
    They were in a standard Security Chamber, a purposeful confusion of hanging drapes and full-length mirrors that reflected her cloaked and hooded figure scores of times. Chalkhill shivered. He had a feeling she might be right, but that didn’t mean he wanted to face up to it. ‘I’m sure my old partner will protect me,’ he said without much conviction.
And if he doesn’t, you will, you old hag,
he thought.
You’re the one who got me into this.
    Madame Cardui snorted. ‘Silas Brimstone? He would sell his own mother for sixpence. No, I’m afraid your only hope is to expose the Brotherhood before they move against you.’
    The trouble with a Security Chamber was you never knew where to look. Which was the whole point, of course. All the reflections duplicated the person you were talking to and the curtains deflected their voice so you couldn’t even follow the sound. It meant assassins didn’t quite know what to attack, but it was hael trying to carry out a sensible conversation. He selected a reflection of Madame Cardui at random and wailed at it, ‘But that only gives me to the end of the week!’
    ‘Can’t you ask your bank to slow the transfer?’
    ‘I’ve already done that,’ Chalkhill told her. ‘Standard clearance is seventy-two hours. They’ve pushed it back to six days – a working week. But they won’t go any further. They say more delay would ruin their