om, I know I shall sound like one of your patients at Bedlam, but please, hear me out. You mustn’t go to that meeting this evening. I believe you are in danger. I know you’ve joined the Rakshana—” Tom tries to object but I hold up my hand. “I know it. Your gentlemen’s club isn’t what you imagine them to be, Tom. They’ve existed for centuries. They’re not to be trusted.”
Tom stands uncertainly for a moment. I can only hope I’ve reached him. He bursts into laughter and applause. “Bravo, Gemma! That is, without a doubt, the most fantastic story you’ve concocted yet. I do believe it is not I but Sir Arthur Conan Doyle who is in danger. For your stories may surpass his in intrigue and dastardly deeds!” I grab his arm and he brushes me away. “Have a care with that coat! My tailor is a good man
