“I just didn’t want him to think he was getting off easy.”

“You didn’t want him to think Royce Melborn went soft at the sight of a little girl’s tears.”

“She wasn’t just any girl and besides, he saved her from Ambrose Moor. For that alone he earned one life.”

“That’s something that has always puzzled me. How is it Ambrose is still alive?”

“I’ve been side-tracked, I suppose,” Royce said in his let us not talk about this tone, and Hadrian dropped it.

Of the city’s three main bridges, the Langdon was the most ornate. Made from cut stone, it was lined every few feet by large lampposts fashioned in the shapes of swans that when lit, gave the bridge a festive look. Now, however, with the lights out, the stone was wet and appeared oily and dangerous.

“Well, at least we didn’t spend the last month looking for DeWitt for nothing,” Hadrian said sarcastically as they crossed the bridge. “I would have thought-”

Royce stopped walking and abruptly raised his hand. Both men looked around, and without a word drew their weapons as they moved back to back. Nothing seemed amiss. The only sound was the roar of the tumultuous waters that rushed and churned below them.

“Impressive, Duster,” a man addressed Royce as he stepped out from behind one of the bridge lampposts. His skin was pale and his body so slender and boney that he swam in his loose britches and shirt. He looked like a corpse someone forgot to bury.

Behind them, Hadrian noted three more men crawling onto the span. They all had similar appearances, thin and muscular, each in dark colored clothes. They circled like wolves.

“What tipped you off we were here?” the thin man asked.

“I’m guessing it was your breath, but body odor really can’t be ruled out,” Hadrian replied with a grin while noting their positions, movements, and the direction of their eyes.

“Mind ’yer mouth bub,” the tallest of the four threatened.

“To what do we owe this visit, Price?” Royce asked.