They drove Lincoln away, leaving three of the constables to search the outhouses and garden. I followed them. When they reached the walled garden, I held my breath and not simply because the files were buried in the ground, but because of the manure we'd spread over the entire plot to cover the freshly turned earth.

They left empty-handed in the afternoon.

"Sit, Charlie," Cook said when I joined him and the others in the kitchen. "Eat." He put a plate of cheese and ham on the table in front of me.

I pushed it away. "I'm not hungry."

"Did they find anything?" Alice asked. She looked exhausted, her face drawn and pale.

"No."

"Thank God," Lady Vickers said, taking a seat beside me. "So now what do we do?"

"We wait," Gus said. "Like Fitzroy wants us to do."

"I'll visit his lawyer," Seth announced. "If he doesn't feel comfortable handling this then he can put us on to someone who will."

"I suspect Lincoln has already set that in motion," I said. "But go anyway. Thank you, Seth."

"I'm happy to do something. I need to do something." He kicked the table leg. "This situation is untenable."

"It ain't right," Gus said with a shake of his head. "How can they say he conspired to murder? He's bloody saved the people of this city more times than I can count. We should tell 'em about all these times, about Frankenstein and the general."

"They won't believe us," I said. "And they can accuse him of conspiring because he won't hand over the files they suspect—they know—we're harboring."

Seth paced the kitchen floor, circling the table. "God damned Swinburn. I'll bloody kill him."

"Don't do anything rash," his mother said. "Start with the lawyer and leave the killing to when all else fails."

"What if we do hand over the files?" Alice asked. "Will they release him then?"

"Possibly," Seth said, looking at me.

I shook my head. "Lincoln doesn't want them to have the files. He promised many people that he'd keep their records safe and he would hate for his word to be broken."

"Not even to save his life?" Seth threw his hands in the air. "Who cares about his word now?"

I rubbed my forehead. "We'll keep that in our corner if the lawyer fails. For now, we'll keep the files hidden and dig them up only if necessary."

"We know some of the people in those files," Gus said. "I can warn them."

"Good idea. Send a telegram to Frakingham House too."

Cook took up his piping bag and squirted an icing rosette onto the edge of the cake. It was almost finished, and what a magnificent piece of art it turned out to be. He'd sculpted a tiny sugar butterfly at the front, sitting on a rose. Only that morning he'd told me the butterfly symbolized me, free and happy. I'd asked him if that meant the rose represented Lincoln and he dared me to tell Lincoln he was a rose. In the middle of the cake, beneath an arch, stood a couple staring into one another's eyes.

I dashed away my tears. "Don't bother with the cake," I told him. "There can't be a wedding tomorrow with Lincoln in jail."

Seth placed a hand on my shoulder. "We'll free him."

"Perhaps," I whispered through my tight throat. "But not in time."

---

I would not stay at Lichfield and wait for a miracle to occur. I could not. After Gus dashed off messages to those recorded in the files whose addresses we remembered, he drove me to Buckingham Palace. I was prepared to beg, bribe or wait all day for an audience with one of the royal family but I was granted access to the queen immediately. I suspected that privilege arose because she wanted to ask me to summon her late husband. I was wrong.

"You lied to me, Miss Holloway." The queen sat at her desk in an office I had not yet been into. It was vast and somewhat empty, with chairs placed along the wall. A footman picked one up and went to place it by the desk but the queen waved him away. "She won't be staying."

I straightened from my curtsey and clasped my shaking hands in front of me. "Lied, Your Majesty? In what way?"

She lifted a finger and the footman left. I was alone with the queen. What could she say that required no witnesses?

But I knew the answer to that.

"You are not a medium," she said. "You are something…perverted."

Well, that was a new name for me. "I believe necromancer is the word you're searching for, ma'am."

Her small, hard eyes glittered beneath the puffy flesh of her lids. "You are an abomination."

I'd been called that before, by the man I'd called Father, no less. The word had been like a spike through my heart then. But not anymore. "No, I am not. This is how God made me. I didn't choose to be a necromancer, not like some people choose to be cruel or break laws. It is how I was born. Do you think God's creation an abomination?"

Her jowls shook as she worked up a response. Finally, she spat it out. "You duped me!"

"No, ma'am, I have never duped you. Yes, I lied about being a medium but that's because I've discovered calling myself a necromancer either frightens people or disgusts them. Neither reaction gladdens me. But I have never duped you."

"You told me you summoned my dear Albert's ghost."

"I did summon him."

"You're a necromancer, not a medium! If you summoned him, why could I not see him? Well?"

I drew in a breath and wished I had a chair to sit on. I wanted to be lower, on her level. It felt odd to be higher. "A medium can only talk to spirits that have not crossed to their afterlife. They cannot call the spirit back from there. A necromancer can, if the full name of the deceased is known."

"A lie. Necromancers raise the dead, Miss Holloway. You must think me naive to pretend otherwise."

"Ma'am, you are partly correct. Necromancers are capable of directing a spirit into a dead body and controlling that body, but it's quite possible simply to summon ghosts and not take that extra step. That's what I did in the case of your late husband."

She fidgeted with the rings on her left hand and did not meet my gaze. Her lack of response bolstered my confidence.

"Did His Royal Highness The Prince Consort not prove that it was he in the room with us?" I asked gently. "I seem to recall he said something that only you and he could know as proof."

She continued to twist one of her rings, a large sapphire with a thick gold band.

"Ma'am, who told you that I'm a necromancer?"

"That is private information."

"If it was Sir Ignatius Swinburn, I must warn you that he doesn't like me or Lincoln. He'll do and say anything to have the Ministry of Curiosities shut down."

"Why?"

"Because the ministry monitors supernaturals and their activity. We keep them in check and ensure they do no harm. And he's a werewolf."

"You've claimed that before, but it's proven false. He shot a werewolf only recently and he's not likely to kill one of his own, is he?"

It was a difficult argument to counter so I moved on to the reason for my visit. "Ma'am, Lincoln has been arrested for conspiring to commit murder. He's not guilty. You know he's not guilty."

"How dare you presume to know my mind?" Her eyes flashed, her jowls firmed. "Leave, Miss Holloway, or I shall have you thrown out."

"Ma'am, please. We're due to be wed tomorrow."

"So?"

"He isn't guilty!"

"Then it will be proved in court and he'll be set free."

"Will he?" I growled, charging forward. "Will he really be freed? Or will Swinburn use you like he has used everyone else to ensure Lincoln is executed?"

She rang a little bell on her desk and one of the doors opened. "Miss Holloway's audience has ended," she told the two footmen who entered. "Please see that she leaves the premises safely."

I slapped both hands down on the desk. "Don't do this, ma'am!" One of the footmen grabbed my right arm and the other my left. They pulled me away from the desk. My heels dragged across the floor, rumpling the rug. "I'll do whatever you want!" I called out. "I'll summon your husband's ghost! Don't you want to speak to him again? I'm sure he'd like to see you. Ma'am, please, help us!"

Another footman shut the door and I was unceremoniously pushed in the opposite direction. I tried to walk but the footmen were rough and tall and my feet hardly touched the floor. Others escorted us through the palace. It would seem I was to be thrown out after all.

"What's this?" came a familiar voice. We'd just entered a long room whose only purpose seemed to be to house statues and paintings. The Prince of Wales approached from the door at the opposite end. "I heard there's been a security breach."

"Your Royal Highness," I said, trying to sound rational and not at all mad or desperate. "Please, ask them to unhand me."

"Miss Holloway? Men, halt this instant."

The footmen stopped, clearly unsure whether to continue carrying out their queen's orders or their prince's."

"I won't do anything rash," I assured them. "No one is in danger from me."

"Of course not," the prince said. "It's absurd to even suggest it." He waved the footmen away. They bowed and moved out of earshot, but did not leave altogether. "What's the meaning of all this?" The prince glanced back the way I'd come. "Have you been speaking to Her Majesty?"

"I appealed to her on Lincoln's behalf. He has been arrested."

"What the devil for?"

I told him about Fullbright and Yallop, and about the files and Lincoln's refusal to give them up. "Even if he did give them up, I'm sure Mr. Yallop would find a way to keep him in jail. He seems determined to ruin Lincoln and close the ministry."

"This is a result of the newspaper articles." It was a statement, not a question, but I nodded anyway. "I'm not surprised that parliament worked swiftly on this. The public was afraid after the Ripper murders, and not everyone believes Gawler was the sole monster responsible this time. There was talk of rioting if the police didn't focus their full attention on keeping the East End safe. Something had to be done, or at least seen to be done, for the sake of peace."

"Yes, but it's not fair to blame Lincoln! He's the one who keeps the city safe from monsters."

"Clearly they have their reasons. Miss Holloway, there's no need to fret. A parliamentary select committee has a lot of power, but this Mr. Yallop won't be an unreasonable fellow. When he sees the good the ministry do, he'll let Fitzroy go."

"No, he won't. He is under Swinburn's influence, and Swinburn wants to see the ministry gone, and Lincoln with it."

He clicked his tongue. "Stop this constant blaming of Swinburn! I've told you before, he's a good man and a good friend. He has the realm's best interests at heart."

"He has his own best interests at heart, and you are deliberately turning the other cheek so that you don't see it."

He bristled. "I beg your pardon."

"Why did I think coming here would be a good idea?" I asked the chandelier dangling above me. "Why did I think one of you would listen? I didn't really expect your mother to care, sir, since she doesn't know. But you…you ought to care. He is your son, after all."

He glanced toward the nearest footman, standing as still as one of the many statues. "Don't," he said without moving his lips. "That cannot become known. Imagine the scandal! His mother was a gypsy woman, for God's sake. The damage done to my reputation would be irreparable, and then there's the queen's censure to contend with. If you dare tell anyone, Miss Holloway, I'll deny it most vehemently."

My heart sank with each word. Without the prince's influence, what chance did Lincoln have? Yallop and the members of parliament wanted to blame someone for allowing a murderous werewolf to roam our streets, and they'd made Lincoln their scapegoat, thanks to Swinburn. If one of the most powerful men in the realm refused to help, what hope was there? My chest hurt and my eyes burned with my tears. I wanted to scratch the face of the man standing in front of me and show the world that he was just a man, that he bled too, and ought to be held accountable for his mistakes as the rest of us were. The royal family didn't deserve to have their scandals buried. Not when revealing their scandals could save the life of a man.

"You are a disappointment, sir. I cannot believe Lincoln is your son. He is brave, honest and does not turn a blind eye to injustice. He owns up to his mistakes and makes amends for them. In short, he is a better man than you. Good day, sir."

I marched away from him as quickly as I could without breaking into a run. I expected him to stop me, or order one of his men to, but he did not. Whether he watched me go, I couldn't say. I didn't dare look back. My heart pounded furiously in my chest, and I feared it would smash every piece of my fragile body until there was nothing left but shards on the palace carpet. The footmen flanking me had to increase their pace to keep up, and I almost broke into a run when I spotted the exit. I lifted my skirts and raced down the front steps and into the safety of the Lichfield coach.

"Home, Charlie?" Gus asked.

I was furious and frustrated, and I needed to release my emotions on someone deserving, not my friends. "Take me to the Gillinghams' house. I'm going to speak to Harriet."

---

It was unfortunate that Lord Gillingham was at home. I would have preferred to talk to Harriet alone. With him there, I might not even get to see Harriet at all.

"You will not speak to her," he told me. The footman had fetched Gillingham instead of his wife, even though I'd asked for her. "She wants nothing to do with you."

"Why?" I asked. My temper was very close to fraying, but I must not lose it with this man in his house. His servants would obey him and my efforts would be thwarted. I couldn't bear another failure after the palace.

"Because you are too closely associated with Fitzroy and the ministry, and my family must be kept as far from the scandal as possible. My wife's safety is utmost at this delicate time."

"You are closely associated with Lincoln and the ministry too," I shot back.

"I will distance myself from Lichfield Towers for as long as required."

"As much as I rejoice at your absence, I must speak to her now. Harriet!" My shout echoed off the papered walls and rose up to the high ceiling.

Gillingham signaled for his footman. "See that Miss Holloway leaves immediately."

The footman opened the door for me but a word from Harriet, standing at the top of the staircase, had him closing it again. He looked to her for further instruction, not his master.

"Gilly, that's no way to treat our guest and my friend," Harriet scolded. "Come and sit with me, Charlie," she said sweetly, holding out her hand.

Gillingham sucked air between his teeth, but he did not contradict his wife. I picked up my skirts and, keeping a wary eye on him, joined her on the staircase. With one hand supporting her belly, she led me to a cozy sitting room and we sat together on the sofa. Her husband followed and shut the door upon her request. No servants joined us.

I suddenly regretted my haste in coming here alone. I should have asked Gus to escort me inside or waited for Seth to return home. The woman beside me may be heavy with child, but she was still a werewolf who'd thrown her allegiance in with Swinburn. I could not trust her.

"Are you aware that Lincoln was arrested?" I began.

She gasped. "Arrested!"

Gillingham had been standing by the door but he now sat on an armchair. "This is in response to the newspapers that linked his name to the ministry," he said.

"And the parliamentary select committee's investigation," I said. "Mr. Yallop wants to shut us down, and he knows that achieving that requires removing Lincoln."

"It will come to nothing." He thrust out his lower lip as if that were the end of the discussion.

I ignored him. Despite his position in society, he could affect nothing. It had taken me until now to realize it, but he was useless, his influence non-existent. I turned to Harriet.

"You must convince Swinburn to end his campaign against Lincoln," I urged her.

"Swinburn!" she said, blinking her wide blue eyes at me. "You think him behind this?"

"I know him to be behind it. You know it too."

"She knows no such thing!" Gillingham bellowed.

She put up her hand to silence him, but did not bother to look at him. "You are probably right, Charlie. But I have no influence with Swinburn." She laid a hand over mine.

I pulled away. "Don't play me for a fool. You've switched allegiance to him."

She cocked her head to the side. "I did play the role superbly, but I thought you knew it was just an act. You must! I am your friend, and a friend to the ministry. Oh, please say you believe me, Charlie. I'll be devastated to lose your friendship, particularly now."

"You stole my imp necklace! If it were all an act, why not ask me to give it to you? Why go to such lengths?"

"Would you have given it to me? Of course not. You would never have handed it over. Charlie, listen to me. Sir Ignatius would only believe I was on his side if I proved my loyalty to him. He asked me to bring him the orb with the imp inside it, so I did. Now he confides in me as much as he confides in Lord Ballantine, perhaps even more, since Ballantine and he fell out over the incident with Leonora and Prince Eddy. Truly, Charlie, I thought you came to realize it was all a ruse when I winked at you after you confronted me in his house. Did you not see the wink?"

"Did you not hear the anger in my voice?"

"I thought it all an act." She laughed nervously. "You're a wonderful actress, after all, having pretended to be a boy all those years. I thought you were pretending, and that it worked. He believed your performance, and mine." She pouted. "I thought we made an excellent team, and now you tell me you doubt my loyalty to you. Oh, Charlie, the loss of your friendship leaves me bereft. My heart is broken and will not be put together until you say you trust me again."

She was convincing, and yet the kernel of doubt was lodged too deeply and I could not pluck it out. "You are now the leader of the East End pack thanks to Swinburn's machinations."

"That was never my aim."

"He guessed you would be chosen. You and he concocted the plan to remove Gawler together."

"No!"

"How dare you accuse my wife of being complicit in murder!"

"You've become powerful since Gawler's death," I forged on. "Thanks to Swinburn and your newfound loyalty to him."

"Loyalty that I only set out to prove to him at your insistence."

"It was your idea to spy on him by getting close to him."

She blinked tear-filled eyes. "Charlie, don't say such things. It was never my intention to become leader of the East End pack. I only ever wanted to help the ministry bring him to justice." She clutched my hand between hers and held it against her chest. "Please tell me you believe me."

I swallowed. I knew I ought to tell her I believed her…yet I could not.

"I think you should leave, Miss Holloway," Gillingham said, rising. "You're upsetting my wife."

"Sit down, Gilly," Harriet snapped.

He sat.

"Listen, Charlie." Harriet shifted closer to me. "Let me prove my loyalty to you by offering up some information."

Is that how she'd approached Swinburn? "Go on."

"I know you think me just a silly girl, merely a pretty face with no thoughts of her own."

"No," I said most emphatically. "I don't think that."

"Some do." Her gaze slid to her husband then back to me. "But I have eyes and ears and I use them to learn. Swinburn's pack mates are unhappy over Gawler's death. They see it as betrayal of our kind, of putting our entire species in danger by handing the body over to science. They think the disagreement between them should have been settled in the traditional pack way, with a fight in our beast form."

"Don't use that word," her husband muttered.

"There now, Charlie. Isn't that a useful piece of information?" she asked.

"Not particularly," I said. "It's not going to get Lincoln out of jail." I pressed my fingers to my forehead and rubbed the ache blooming there. "We're supposed to be married tomorrow."

"I know." Her brow crumpled. "You poor thing."

"If you are truly loyal to us," I said, "you will use your influence with Swinburn and ask him to see that Lincoln is released. It's his bloody fault the parliamentary committee was set up in the first place."

"I'm not convinced he was responsible," she said carefully.

"He is! He must be."

"It was set up because of the public outcry over the attacks and the revelation that the ministry exists to stop that sort of thing from happening."

"And who told Mr. Salter from The Star about werewolves and the ministry in the first place?"

"Swinburn," Gillingham said, stamping his hand on the chair arm. "Assuredly, it was Swinburn."

"No, it was not." Harriet turned toward him, her eyes narrowed to slits. "Stop this charade, Gilly. It's pathetic. I know it was you."

His jaw dropped and he spluttered words of denial but they did not form a full sentence. She let him ramble on, her glare unwavering, until he finally drifted to a stop. He closed his mouth and his audible gulp filled the silence.

"Go on, Harriet," I said darkly.

"I was looking through the correspondence on my husband's desk the other day," she said.

"You what?" he exploded. "Why?"

"Because it's time you treated me as your equal in all affairs that affect us as a family. Your business is my business, Gilly. Anyway, that is by the by. I was looking through your correspondence and discovered a letter from Mr. Salter thanking you for the information and asking for further details."

"You were his source?" I said to Gillingham.

He shot to his feet. "I don't have to listen to this!"

"You do if you want to keep my condition a secret," his wife said. "Believe me, I have no qualms in telling the world what I am. It might even go some way to proving that not all werewolves are dangerous. I have considered it, Gilly, and I will do it if you don't do as I say. Now, sit and listen. You planted the idea in Mr. Salter's head that a werewolf was responsible for those murders in the Old Nichol, then you gave him Gawler's name."

"My God," I whispered. "That's awful. Why would you do such a thing?"

His throat worked but he simply stared at his wife. The freckles on his cheeks darkened against his pale skin.

"Because he wanted to stop me running with Gawler and his pack," Harriet said. "He assumed if Gawler was arrested for murder, the pack would disband, or stop running until the dust settled."

"I did it for you, my love," he whispered. "For you and our child, to keep you both safe."

"From what?" she shouted. "We are only in danger from the authorities now thanks to you!"

"Anything could have happened during a run. It's the East End, for God's sake! Those people could have turned on you. They are scum, Harriet. They have no morals, no conscience. I hate to think what they might have done."

"You stupid fool. They are good people. Better than you, by far."

He leapt off his chair and lunged toward her. He grasped her shoulders. "Harriet, please, I did what I did for you."

She shoved him away and he fell onto the rug. He scooted back until he hit a table.

"Did you tell them about Lincoln, too?" I asked. "About the ministry?"

"No!" he cried. "I did not mention the ministry, Fitzroy or Lichfield. My aim was only ever to keep Harriet and our baby safe, not close the ministry. Be sure to tell Fitzroy that, Charlotte."

I appealed to Harriet. She lifted one shoulder. "There was no evidence in the correspondence that he informed Mr. Salter about the ministry. I sent him a message to ask him, and he wrote back that he will not reveal his sources."

"It's not me," Gillingham said weakly.

His wife lifted her finger in dismissal, as if she were addressing one of the servants. "So you see, Charlie, at least some of this situation is not Swinburn's fault. The original newspaper reports certainly aren't."

"The murders themselves are, possibly," I told her. "And he most likely told Salter and Yallop about the ministry. That is my concern now. Harriet, please just talk to him. Try to convince him that Lincoln and the ministry are not his enemy."

"I'll try, but the problem is that he wants power, and the ministry will thwart him at every turn."

"Because we don't want power to fall into the hands of a corrupt, amoral murderer. Swinburn is not a good man, and you know it. Is that the sort of fellow you want your child near?"

Her shoulders sagged and she linked her hands over her bulging belly.

"Why not petition Julia instead of my wife," Gillingham said, once again taking his chair. "She is Swinburn's fiancée, for God's sake. Surely she has some influence."

"She won't help Lincoln," Harriet said. "He threw her off the committee, after all. Anyway, I don't think she has much influence with Sir Ignatius. In my discussions with him, he doesn't seem particularly fond of her. Their arrangement benefited him, but now that she has passed on all the information she could about Lincoln and the ministry, I wouldn't be surprised if he ended it. God help us all when he does. She'll become even more desperate."

"She's dead," I said.

They both stared at me. "No, she isn't." Harriet laughed nervously. "I saw her two days ago. She was looking as healthy and lovely as always."

"She killed herself."

Gillingham spluttered a laugh, but it died when I did not join in. I told them the little I knew of the situation, which seemed woefully inadequate considering how well acquainted Lady Harcourt and I were.

"Poor Julia," Gillingham murmured. "We didn't get on but…to take her own life…"

"She must have been very unhappy," Harriet said. "To be honest, I didn't think she and Sir Ignatius a good match. I wonder if something happened there." She frowned and absently stroked her belly.

"Things were not going her way of late," I said.

"Yes, but…" Harriet shook her head. "Are you sure she wasn't pushed?"

What an odd thing for her to conclude. To think it an accident, yes, but she was implying Lady Harcourt was murdered. "By whom?" I asked.

"By someone who wanted to get rid of her, of course."

"Like Swinburn," Lord Gillingham suggested. When we both gave him incredulous looks, he added, "You did just say he wanted to be rid of her."

"I don't know for certain. It was merely a thought, idle gossip." His wife sighed. "Poor Andrew. He'll be devastated."

"He is."

Harriet looked to her husband. "You ought to visit him and pass on our condolences."

"Me?" He sniffed. "No, thank you. He's a revolting person. Anyway, I can't stand being near grieving people. Send him a note, my dear."

"You write one, Gilly." She winced and cupped her belly. "I can't sit at a desk right now."

"Are you all right, my dear?" He crouched before her, his hands resting on her knees. He was the picture of a loving, considerate husband.

"Thank you, yes. You are a dear man for asking." She touched his cheek. "I forgive you for going to Mr. Salter, Gilly. I understand you only wanted to protect me, and Wolfie too, of course." Her lips pinched. "But don't try to manipulate me again. Is that understood?"

He nodded quickly. "You are my entire world, Harriet. You and our child." He drew her hand to his lips and kissed it. Her faced softened and she smiled at him.

I couldn't stomach any more and got up to leave.

"I'm sure Lincoln will be home in time for the wedding," Harriet said after I bade her goodbye. "The police surely cannot hold him for long."

"Get his lawyer onto it," Gillingham said.

"We have," I told them. "But I'm not sure he can do much. At this stage, it's doubtful that Lincoln and I will marry tomorrow."

"Oh, Charlie, I am sorry," Harriet said. "All the preparations have come to nothing. At least you can save the gown for when he does get out."

"If he gets out," her husband added.

"Gilly!"

I bade them good day after extracting a promise from Harriet that she would get my necklace back. I left wondering if her promises were now worth anything.

I asked Gus to take me home, and instead of sitting inside the coach, I sat beside him on the driver's perch. Being inside meant being alone, and I didn't want to be alone. I wanted to engage in conversation so my thoughts didn't wander in a hopeless direction.

Yet even conversation with Gus turned to the wedding. Neither of us could come up with a way in which Lincoln would be freed in time to marry me. Every method would take too long. Every legal method.

---

Gus slowed the horses when he spotted the two coaches parked at Lichfield's steps. "Who's here?" he asked, squinting against the sunshine.

The front door burst open and Alice and Lady Vickers met us on the drive. Lady Vickers flapped her fan at her throat, her bosom heaving. "They're back!" she gasped out.

"Who?" I followed Alice's gaze toward the walled garden.

Oh God no.

I lifted my skirts and jumped down from the driver's platform. I spotted Seth up ahead, standing in the entrance to the garden, his arms crossed.

"They brought shovels," Alice said, striding alongside me. "And more men."

"I thought they gave up," I said.

"It seems they didn't."

Seth looked over his shoulder as he heard us approach. He shook his head in warning. "Don't say anything," he whispered.

"Is that Miss Holloway?" asked Detective Inspector Fullbright from inside the garden.

He was joined by a smiling Mr. Yallop. "Excellent timing," Mr. Yallop said. "We were just leaving."

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Looking for these." Mr. Yallop indicated the constable wheeling a wheelbarrow between garden beds. It was filled with the hessian sacks we'd buried the files in.

I froze. Even my heart ground to a halt. "What…?" was all I managed to say.

"It's the evidence that will convict your fiancé and close down the ministry."