I spent another few moments secreting various small instruments of mayhem on my well-dressed person. Then I ventured out in Mama’s wake, humming a happy tune between spates of yawning.

I wandered on foot for a bit just to see if the inquisitive Captain Holder was wasting the Regent’s coin by hiding Watchmen in my shrubs. He wasn’t, or if he was, he was too good to spot. So after a half-dozen blocks of ambling, I hailed a cab and settled in for the short ride west to Cambrit.

On a whim, I’d told the cabbie to drop me at the barbershop a block from my place. When I saw the tall, grim-faced man idling in the shade of old Mr. Bull’s meager stoop, I was glad I added that block. The idling man wasn’t wearing Watch blues. No, he had on a grey topcoat and a newish grey hat and black pants that more or less fit. He’d have been hard to spot in a crowd, but standing there on Cambrit all by himself in his scuffed, black Watch brogans he might as well have been in uniform.

I got out at the barbershop and ambled in and left by the back door after a nod to Curtis the barber. From there I made my way to the back door of my neighbors the Arwheat brothers, and after a short visit with them I headed to a middling fancy eatery downtown called the Brickworks.

Along the way I made another stop in an alley I won’t name. I counted a certain number of bricks up and a certain number across, and I pulled out the loose one and left a note behind it.

Gertriss and I have ways of keeping in touch, you see.

That done, I dined. I made sure to take a table in the middle of the place, I called my waiter by name, and surprised him with a generous tip. Same for the wine steward, the maitre d', the busboy, and the doorman. In a fit of purely spontaneous generosity, I also bought a round of drinks for the bar and thus made a few new friends in the banking and haberdashery industries.

It was mid-afternoon by the time I made my way back to Cambrit. Mr. Bull’s stoop was empty aside from old Mr. Bull himself, who was worrying a wet section of sidewalk with his ancient, nearly strawless broom.

He responded to my wave and cheery “hello” with a bout of cackling. I unlocked my fancy new door and ushered a petulant Three-leg Cat inside. Then I waited for callers.

I didn’t wait long. Evis showed in a half-hour, swathed in black silk, his dead eyes shielded from the daylight by thick black spectacles. I got little more than grunts from him while he settled into a chair he’d pushed to the back, out of the light.

We smoked cigars in silence while traffic rattled past outside. By the time an iron-wheeled Watch tallboy rattled to the curb, we’d filled my office with enough thick grey smoke to actually make seeing out the door’s peep window impossible.

A meaty fist struck my door. “Open for the Watch!” shouted my new friend Captain Holder. “Open or we’ll break it down.”

Evis stubbed out his cigar and folded back into the shadows. I rose and unlocked my door, then opened it wide before stepping back out of yanking distance.

Captain Holder marched in, hand on his sword hilt, face beet red around eyes already going teary from the cigar smoke.

“What brings you here, Captain?” Carelessly, I puffed smoke directly into his face. “Care for a Lowland Sweet?”

That’s when Captain Holder, an officer of the law and a high-ranking Watchman, dared lay hands on me-a law-abiding citizen who did nothing but exhibit a generous nature concerning his excellent tobacco.

Evis moved, a silent shadow leaving brief wakes in the smoke.

Slam went my door, plunging my office into darkness.

Snick went the Captain’s Watch-issue shortsword as it was snatched from its scabbard.

Thunk went the blade as Evis buried the tip of it in my desk before returning to his seat and once again wrapping himself in silk and shadow.

The Captain gaped, his sword hand closing on air.

“I have half a dozen men right outside.”

“Only half a dozen?” I sniffed and looked down my nose. “I’d have thought a desperate criminal such as myself would have demanded a full dozen, at least.”

He wasn’t listening. Instead, he backed toward my door, his eyes on Evis, and then he yanked it open and bellowed through it.

“Your men were called to attend pressing matters elsewhere, Captain Holder,” said Evis from the dark. “Close the door. You are in no danger. But we do need to have a chat.”

I would have bet even money on the Captain bolting. But after a moment of staring out into the empty street, he straightened, uttered a single brief curse word, turned to face us, and closed the door.

“You’ve had a bad morning, Captain,” I said. I strolled around my desk and pointed to the empty client’s chair. “But it doesn’t need to get any worse. Have a seat. Let’s talk this out like gentlemen.”

He glared but yanked the chair back and sat.

“You dumped a bucket of shit on a Watchman,” he said, his voice still rough with rage. “I know all about you, Markhat. You’ve been running roughshod over the Watch for years. I’m here to tell you you’ve gone too far this time. I’m charging you with assault on an officer of the law.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Charging me? With assault? Good thing my legal counsel is present, then. Captain Holder, meet Mr. Evis Prestley, of House Avalante. I believe you’ve heard the name.”

“I know it.”

I leaned back and laced my fingers together behind my head. “Assault, you say? Mr. Prestley. Have I, to your knowledge, assaulted any Watchmen recently?”

“Why no, Mr. Markhat, I don’t believe you have.”

The good Captain repeated his curse word. “You dumped a bucket of shit on my man outside. I can’t hang you for that but I can damned well throw you in the Old Ruth for a week or three.” He made as if to rise.

Evis appeared by my side, his dead-pale face just touched by the sun.

“And you can prove my client was involved, can you, Captain?”

“It was him. You know it and I know it.”

Evis shook his head and made tsk-tsk noises. “At what time did this alleged assault by excrement occur, Captain? As you have noted the complainant is a Watchman, I assume he was able to provide such details in his official report?”

“Ten of noon,” growled the Captain, his beefy right hand clutching his Watch-issue handcuffs. “You’re wasting your time. He’s coming with me.”

“Ten of noon,” said Evis. “Well. I can produce no fewer than two dozen prominent citizens of Rannit who will gladly swear they were dining with Mr. Markhat at the Brickworks between eleven and half-past one, Captain Holder. Remind me of the names, Mr. Markhat.”

“Certainly. Tavis Green, of the Tavis Greens, was there. We enjoyed a bottle of Fitch together. Oh, and Markum Sate, and Corliss Poole, and that nephew of the Regent’s chief of staff, Malcom Slater.”

I trailed off and watched a vein in Holder’s forehead bulge and pulse.

“You spoke of a waste of time, Captain. Indeed, that is what incarcerating my client will yield you. Time and trouble. I assure you, Avalante will take an immediate and active interest in the matter.”

“Might as well put the bracelets away,” I said. “Maybe one day I’ll slip up and you can clap them on me. But that isn’t today, Captain, and you know it.”

Ten breaths. That’s what it took for Holder to work out the truth behind my words. But work it out he did, and the cuffs went back in his pocket.

“I won’t forget this,” he said after a time. “Nobody dumps chamber-pots on my Watch officers. Nobody.”

I shrugged. “Good for you. Now then. Being completely unaware you had a man watching my door, I find myself suddenly compelled to ask why you’d do such a thing. So. Why?”

“Because a woman is dead and you killed her, that’s why.”

Evis waggled a taloned finger at the Captain’s nose. “My client acted in self-defense during an unprovoked attack by a deranged stranger,” he said. “Even the Watch concurs.”