Mercer didn't wait for morning. He left Keston's town house with the letters buttoned inside his coat and walked straight through the sleeping streets to Renner's warehouse, where a single lamp still burned in the upstairs office.
The night guard at the door knew him by now. He opened it without a question and pointed toward the stairs.
Renner sat at the same cluttered desk, a cup of tea steaming beside a stack of unopened mail. He looked up as Mercer came through the door and didn't seem surprised at all. He simply set down his pen and folded his hands.
"You're here late," Renner said. "Or early. I've never decided which word fits that hour."
Mercer crossed the room and laid one of the letters on the desk, turned so the seal faced up. Black wax. A circle with a bent key pressed into t
