Still gasping for breath, Trinket tried to steady her thoughts as she leaned back in the rocking chair. "How did you know?"

Placing the lit candle on a nearby table, Ms. Langtry flashed one of her calm yet unnerving smiles. "You're asking a fortune-teller how she knew you were in distress just outside of her home?" she said as she pulled over a stool and sat beside her.

"I'm not convinced of your otherworldly abilities," Trinket replied, watching the woman carefully and holding Booker's bag closer to her chest.

"Even after I rescued you, you're still so suspicious of me?"

Relenting a little, Trinket gave her a weak smile. "I apologize. I'm incredibly grateful for your assistance. Truly, I am."

"Well, to answer your question, I heard the commotion while I was making myself a cup of tea. As I said, I suffer from insomnia, so I'm often up at odd hours. When I looked out the window, I recognized you and assumed that, since you are Mr. Larkin's assistant, you were in trouble."

"An apt assumption."

"Would you care for a cup?"

"What?"

"Of tea."

"Oh. No, I'm fine, thank you."

Ms. Langtry got up and made her way to what Trinket guessed was a small stove, though it was hard to tell in the dark. "Tea is one of the only things that can soothe my agitation," Ms. Langtry explained as the sound of pouring water broke the stillness of the room. "I don't know what I would do without it."

Something they had in common. "Is it the spirits?" Trinket asked as Ms. Langtry returned to her stool.

The woman cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brow. "Spirits?"

"The cause of your insomnia."

"Ah, right." She took a sip of tea before continuing. "I must say, Miss Trinket, I have a difficult time understanding you. There are moments when I'm sure you hold the same opinion as Mr. Larkin regarding my profession, but then you go and ask sincere questions like that."

"You seemed to have me all figured out back at the Clocktower."

The woman's face fell slightly. "I am sorry to have upset you then. It wasn't my intention. I was just trying—"

"To con me?"

Ms. Langtry raised an eyebrow, and Trinket raised one in return. "You're very bold to speak in such a way to the woman who could easily turn you into the police chasing after you," Ms. Langtry said.

"I don't think you will."

"Why not? I am a deceitful soothsayer, after all. One who betrays her clients to vicious thugs."

"If that were true, you wouldn't have come to me before handing over the information to Scales. You say I'm difficult to figure out, but you are just as much of a mystery."

Ms. Langtry stared at her for a long moment, drumming her mechanical fingers against her cup, the sound echoing through the dark room. "What did Mr. Larkin tell you about my past, Miss Trinket?"

"That you're the estranged sister of the lord mayor and your communication with the dead caused a rift in the family."

"Lies. All of it."

Trinket's brows drew together. "You made it up?"

"Not the specifics. I merely gave a vague explanation and allowed others to fill in the blanks."

"What did you tell them to lead ]to such a conclusion?"

"Simply that I was estranged from my family due to my gift. I may have insinuated my relatives were of a notable station, but I never actually said 'lord mayor.'"

"Then what is the truth?"

"I was widowed when I was young, left penniless by my well-meaning but financially foolish husband. With no way to support myself, I moved to Tinkerfall where rent is cheap and judgemental eyes are rare." She smiled. "Not as exciting as the story others created for me, is it?"

"And the spirits? Are those another story or do you truly communicate with the dead?"

Ms. Langtry hesitated at this, and for a moment, panic flashed through her eyes. But then she sucked in her lips and let out a short breath. "My talent lies with understanding people. Reading them, if you will."

"Not their palms?"

"I've always been good at knowing what people need to hear. I sit and observe. You know all about observing, don't you, Miss Trinket?"

Trinket's spine went stiff, but she did not respond.

"It's a gift, really, to see what others do not," Ms. Langtry went on. "But there are seldom few who see the value in such an ability. We can't all be employed by Mr. Larkin, unfortunately."

She gave a teasing smile, and somehow it eased the tension in Trinket's chest.

"Perhaps there truly are those who can commune with the dead. But I'm not one of them. And maybe it's wrong to swindle people out of their hard-earned money with lies and deception. However, we all need to survive in this world, and I've had one too many brushes with failure in my attempts to go about things the honest way."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you remind me of myself. And while this life works for me, I fear you may not fare as well."

"Are you saying I'm a liar?"

"I'm saying you are afraid. Just like I was when I first came to this city. When all I had was torn away from me and I was left with nothing but my clever mind."

She released a tired sigh and leaned in closer. As the candlelight threw shadows across her face, it became very apparent how life had aged her. Sitting at that table in the coffeehouse, playing the part of the wise and elegant oracle, she seemed timeless. But in this still, dark room, she was just a weary woman trying to make ends meet in a cruel and heartless world.

"I don't regret the decisions I've made," she continued. "I do what I have to, and if it means I must deceive people I hardly even know, so be it. However, if I had someone in my life I loved, someone I trusted, someone who adored me and cared for me—I would never forgive myself if, in my desperation to survive, I hurt that person or pushed them away with my secrets and lies."

A deep, icy cold settled in Trinket's gut. She squeezed Booker's bag as her heart slammed against her ribs.

Ms. Langtry's eyes softened, and she reached for Trinket's hand. "Miss Trinket, I don't know what has you so frightened. I don't know what happened to you in the past or what secrets you hide. And I don't need to know. No one does. But consider that maybe, if you told someone you trusted and loved, you could start to heal."

"What if some of us have committed deeds so horrendous, we're undeserving of love and forgiveness?" Trinket asked, her voice coming out in a squeaky rasp.

Images of Merrill lying on the bloody kitchen floor came unbidden to her mind. The look on her parents' faces when they found their son mortally wounded and her with the murder weapon at her feet.

How could anyone forgive a sin like that?

"It's my firm belief that no one is beyond love and forgiveness," Ms. Langtry said. "And in your case, the people around you—Mr. Larkin, Grace, your maid friend—don't seem the type to judge all that harshly. I think you need to have more faith in them."

Swallowing hard, Trinket shifted uncomfortably, and Ms. Langtry drew her hand away. "Your talent with people is exceptional," Trinket said, her mouth suddenly dry. "It may even rival your ability with numbers."

Ms. Langtry smiled and sipped her tea. "Well, poor financial sense was prevalent in not just my husband, but most of the men in my family. From a young age, I did what I could to keep the creditors at bay. And after a while, the numbers sort of became friends."

"No wonder Mr. Larkin respects your mind. It can only be a sign of true genius when you refer to numbers as friends."

"Genius or loneliness. But the two often go hand in hand. Lucky for Mr. Larkin, he found you."

She offered another gentle, knowing smile, and this time, Trinket returned it with a shaky one of her own. "I should probably head out," she said, turning her gaze to the closed curtains. "Mr. Larkin will be eager to get his bag back."

Ms. Langtry set her tea down and rose to her feet. "And his lovely assistant, I'm sure," she said, offering Trinket her hand.

Trinket took it, keeping the bag close to her chest. "You won't tell anyone about this, will you?"

"As long as you don't tell anyone about our little discussion."

"Your secret is safe with me."

Ms. Langtry made her way to the door and paused. "With the exception of Mr. Larkin."

Furrowing her brow, Trinket asked, "What do you—"

"You have enough secrets to worry about with regard to him." Ms. Langtry glanced over her shoulder and smiled. "I wouldn't want to add to your burden."

Ms. Langtry led Trinket into the hallway and then poked her head outside to check that there were no lingering authorities. When she was certain the road was clear, she accompanied Trinket to Well Street.

"I'd suggest taking Clark to Gainsborough," she said. "There are more places to hide should they come back."

Nodding, Trinket slowly walked down the road but turned to face the fortune-teller after a few steps. "Thank you, Ms. Langtry."

Ms. Langrty inclined her head. "Of course, Miss Trinket. I was happy to help. And good luck with whatever you choose to do."