The following morning everyone had a terrible hangover. Apart from me, of course. They emerged from their rooms wincing and coloured various shades of green.

Gullen hadnt reappeared since he rushed off the previous night, but Biadet was there to guide us to yet another dining room where we were served breakfast. I ravenously stuffed my face. The others nibbled a little toast.

You should try these sausages. I waved my fork under their noses. Not sure what kind of meat it is, but it tastes great. So juicy and succulent. I stuck it in my mouth and chewed sloppily. Mmm, yum. Look.

Flossie and Maurice both rushed off to the bathroom while Claire refused to look in the direction of my open mouth. Dudley was the only one to match me bite for bite, tucking into his plate loaded with a bit of everything.

Oh, I say. Thats a little bit better.

Either he had a remarkable constitution, or he had abstained from drinking too much to make sure Flossie was okay. I know which Id put my money on.

Eventually, everyone finished eating and/or throwing up. We collected our gear and piled into the carriage. It was a bright, sunny morning with nothing too concerning on the horizon. The perfect time for misfortune to attack.

Biadet, dressed in her top hat and black velvet coat ensemble, drove us back into the city at a relaxed pace, possibly out of sympathy for the fragile condition of the party, or she didnt fancy having to clean out the interior if it was sprayed with puke.

Our first priority was to find some digs to use as a base while we decided how to proceed. I hadnt discussed Gullens offer with the others. He hadnt pressured me into making a decision on the spot, so I probably had a little time before push came to shove. At which point there was a very good chance I would be forced to accept his offer, even though the chances of it actually turning out to be a cushy desk job far from danger were probably slim to none.

No point worrying about it now, though.

Human lives matter