Jim Tanner lingered in the alley just off Curzon Street, and bided his time. A blade lay in his palm, which he kept in the pocket of his long black coat, ready to sink it into the flesh of those pompous lords across the street if they interfered with his mission.

Soon, he promised himself.

His employer had urged him to wait, to snatch the girl without a fight. The order had been issued not out of any need to prevent violence, but to give Tanner time to get away before ...