Jacob kept the knife at Blunt's chest. George rushed in, pistol poised, but I held up a hand to stay him. His eyes widened at the sight of the blood.

"What did you do?" I asked Blunt. "Did you order those people killed?"

"No!" Blunt shook his head very fast, sending his beard into a frenzy. "I helped Finch summon the demon, that's all. I told Maree to steal the book from your friend Culvert there, then I gave it to Tommy Finch. He's the one directing the demon. Not me, him! I swear, it's the truth."

"But you knew about the murders and burglaries."

Blunt hesitated and Jacob shifted his weight onto the knife. Blunt ground his teeth together and nodded.

"I think his role was more than he's admitting to," Jacob said.

"You helped Finch decide who to attack next, didn't you?" I asked Blunt. "You chose the victims. They all worked in grand houses where you had recently placed a servant." As soon as I said it, I knew it must be true. It made sense. Blunt knew which upper servant to attack because he'd questioned the lower servant he'd placed in the household. They'd been his spies-perhaps reluctant ones-informing him of the potential victim's movements.

Again Blunt hesitated and again Jacob pressed on the knife. The bloodstain on Blunt's nightshirt bloomed.

"Yes!" Blunt said, squeezing his eyes shut. "Satisfied?"

Jacob eased back just as Mrs. White entered the room carrying a candle. She clutched a shawl over her nightgown and looked, well, white. "Oh my," she muttered. "Oh my, oh my, Mr. Blunt..." Her gaze fixed on the knife that Jacob still held and she promptly keeled over in a dead faint. I managed to catch her and lower her gently to the floor. The candle fared worse but extinguished itself on impact.

Jacob dropped the knife. George steadied his pistol and aimed it at Blunt's head. "Now what?"

"Now we find out where Finch is keeping the demon," Jacob said without taking his eyes off Blunt.

"Where can we find Tommy Finch?" I asked.

Blunt swallowed. George cocked the gun. The click sounded terribly loud. "There'll be records here somewhere," George said. "Records with Maree's last known address. I suspect we'll find her brother there or if we can't, we'll find someone who can tell us for the price of a few coins."

Well done, George! I raised an eyebrow at Blunt. He swallowed again then groaned. He fell back against the pillows, deflated. "Very well. You can find him in the eastern shadows of St. Mary's in Dwindling Lane." He started to laugh, a thin, high-pitched laugh that sent a shiver down my spine. "You'll need more than one of those in Dwindling Lane, Miss Chambers," he said, nodding at George's pistol. "And more than your pet ghost too."




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