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“Come back,” Blackwell called. “Sit down.”

“I’m out,” Neville replied, sounding resigned.

“You can still advise,” Blackwell reasoned.

“Leave Neville alone,” Asquith said. “Clearly, his mind isn’t on the game.”

Blackwell snorted. “You don’t say.”

Gradually, Asquith noticed men’s voices—rowdy voices—seeping in from the London night.

He kept his eyes on the inlay, even as his ears tuned to the sound. Before he fully comprehended the words, he recognized the cadence.

“Boys, me boys, Come out to play/ The moon doth shine as bright as day/ Leave your supper, and leave your sleep/ And come with your playfellows into the street.”

He knew the chant. Willard’s chant. Willard often recited the rhyme in his sing-song voice to mock his victims before degrading them.

Asquith braced himself for the familiar sensations that arose when Willard crooked his finger behind his back, a deliberate taunt: the queasiness, the intense focus, and the disorientation stemming from years of anger and despair.

The dreaded physical reaction never came. He exhaled with relief.

All he felt was resolve. Willard had hurt him—and the people he loved—for the last time.

“Boys, me boys, come out to play...” the chant continued.

Neville heard, too, though Blackwell and Daughtry appeared oblivious.

“I’ll be right back,” Neville headed for the door.

Asquith did not stop him. If Neville wanted to confront the blackguard right now, on his own, so be it. Asquith had his own confrontation to plan.

When he took on Willard, he would not do so in a venue of Willard’s choosing. He would deal with Willard in time, in his own way, and in a place he decided. That place was not with Willard’s boys beside him on some dim street.

Sickening, Willard’s need to be attended all the time. A sign of Willard’s guilty mind.

A strange tingle lifted the hairs on his neck.

Guilty mind.

In Latin, mens rea...not just a translation but a point of established law.

A defendant needed to have mens rea—intention, knowledge, recklessness—alongside the physical act, or actus reus to prove criminal intent. It was unlikely a man who used his skills for domination would abstain from illegal acts.

And though wealthy, well-connected individuals rarely faced prosecution, if Asquith uncovered something egregious, he could encourage the affected party to bring a charge. Willard was an heir, but not yet a peer. He did not have the right to a trial by Lords.

Asquith’s amassing hope transformed into conviction.

He would get to Willard, not by brute force, but by invading his inner circle, collecting information, and striking by stealth.

And he knew just the young man he was going to enlist in his cause—Preston.

Let justice roll down like waters...

He could make sure Willard faced justice and he would do so without resorting to violence, proving to Lenora she had never been wrong—at least not about Asquith’s own essential nature. He was decent and kind.

Though wonderful might be a stretch.

“Do you think Neville is coming back?” Daughtry asked.